Wednesday, December 06, 2006
What It's Worth
When I was on vacation at my folks' place back in August, my mom handed me a sheet of paper that my brother had drawn on a few months ago. To me, it resembles something that Jackson Pollock would have done as an elementary schoolchild, except Pollock's would probably have been done in acrylic on canvas and be about 15 times as big. To me, the drawing really demonstrates the singularity of focus in my younger sibling's congenitally damaged brain. To him, its meditation and soothing expression in one of the only ways he knows how to speak. So, when you can't communicate to the outside world in a way they can understand, how do you express yourself? When your physical limitations prevent you from doing virtually all that you love except picking up a purple crayon, I think you'd use that as your instrument. To anyone else, it might be that the sheet of paper is meaningless, but to me it belongs at the Guggenheim.