A Far Reach Brought Close

It was one of those rare afternoons where my husband and I had the opportunity to visit a local art museum. I appreciate various forms of art, but as soon as the admission was paid and we were given the “enjoy the tour” smile from the cashier, my mind curiosity immediately made a beeline for the section that showcased its latest photography and their creators.

But for the sake of "slowing down and enjoying each piece of art, I did manage to muster enough patience to slowly pace through the floors of this museum and soak in paintings, colorful glass sculptures, and video art without anxiously tugging at my husband’s hand towards the floor that I knew would house the display of camera work by talented photographers.

As soon as we entered that section of the museum, I felt myself immediately giving in to the temptation to just stare, examine, and ogle like a nerd at each of the photos prominently displayed on the museum’s white walls. I’m not sure what it is, but the photography section of an art museum just makes me want to plant myself onto one of those benches that allow for the artistic and intellectual to ponder the work in front of them.

You know, those cushioned benches that face directly in front of some painting or sculpture where you can just sit and well, stare? Or at times throw in an occasional word of observation type-conversation to shape the silence between you and the person sitting next to you?

Yes. Those benches.

Anyway, as I slowly made my way past each photo, I realized that my eyes couldn’t seem to drink in enough of the color, the details, the shadows and shades that smiled at me from each photo. There were various artists showcasing their work , with stories to tell through their pictures. The stories these photos told were of various subjects, from the poverty in Ghana, to the complication and art of dating, to snapshots of various people in America.

As I stared into the eyes of the child in Ghana, as I followed the shadows and patterns that seem to intensify the story in black and white photo, the more I felt the renewal of inspiration taking over, washing over, pulling me into a wonderful vortex, in a moment I like to think is God sitting right next to me, looking at what I'm looking at, saying, "it's nice, isn't it?"

It's amazing.

Many people say over and over again that pictures tell a story and everything in me agrees with that, more than I can explain. Photos can bring you to places around the world you've never seen before. They can take you into moments of time and history that happened long before your own birth, into the hearts and experiences of people you have never met. They can bring these things that seemed so far and out of reach, up close and truly personal.

I'm glad I didn't bring my camera on that trip to the museum with my husband. Why? Well, I'm slowly learning that there are times when a when a camera will just get in the way of a good dose of inspiration that's trying to make it's way into your heart.

And God knows, I love me some inspiration.