Consistent and Persistent Writing
I’m not going anywhere.
Yesterday I went on a solo trip to the Art Institute of Chicago.
In my many, many years of living in a Chicago suburb and many, many trips to the Art Institute, this is the first time I’ve gone alone.
I could have taken my family. The kids don’t have school today and my husband doesn’t have work in observation of Good Friday. In fact, the kids/husband wanted to go. But I had my heart set on roaming through the giant halls of the museum alone. So that’s what I did.
Every time I go to the Art Insitute, I visit my favorites. Monet and the Impressionists. The Chagall Windows. Magritte and Picasso. I was wandering through the art of the Americas, and wedged between some artists unknown to me was Diego Rivera. I saw a brand new exhibition by current artist Gio Swaby that was fabulous. And there is a stunning Salvador Dalí exhibit right now.
I stand in front of masterpieces and I’m humbled. I’ll stand in front of a Van Gogh and realize that people travel the world to see this painting. And realize how many people have gazed upon it.
When I graduated from college, I gave up my dream of being a writer. It wasn’t practical, I told myself. I wanted a house and a family. I was a voracious reader, mostly literary fiction, and…
