Lines

There is a picture hanging in my bedroom on my side of the bed. I'm not sure if it's a print, or a re-print, but Josh has always maintained that it's fairly valuable...so it must be at least a print. In any case...I have always seen this piece of artwork as drab, gray and sad. I've never liked it, but truthfully, I've never really cared enough about it either way to lobby to remove or keep it in it's place above the bed. These last two rounds however have left me with a lot of time laying in bed where sleep won't bless me and take me away...and so I've been looking at this piece of work.

It's a drawing of a man, who's facing outwards. And of a woman who's back is to us as she is held by him. He's bald...and although he has eyes, nose, mouth, he's really featureless in that he's completely neutral and passive...they both are as a matter of fact. Just two bald heads that are not particularly full of emotion in themselves because in fact the heads don't lean toward each other, they're very upright. Her arms are even to her side. She doesn't return his protective embrace, more just allows it. And, he is not squeezing her, rather protecting her in a circle that allows her stance.

The method of creation of this work is line drawing. Millions and millions of lines. Some areas are thick to darken or shade, and others are thin for lighter 'color'. And the piece is large, so it must've taken a long time to create. Surely longer than I have lain awake staring. The tiny lines make up a greater, more comprehensive whole. The man has his left hand in the forefront and it's grander, larger than the rest, somehow out of proportion. Indeed, it's giant. She, her back to us, hand to her side, seems strong, yet vulnerable too....I can see something here that I never did before and it moves me to tears. Throughout all of this nightmare, my husband Josh has more than 'stood by my side'. That phrase dwarfs his incredible ability to be all things to everyone in this house. Father, mother, husband, friend...defender. Josh has always been these things, but during this journey he has become everything for all, and that is hard to do. He allows me to stand, in my own space, while supporting me. His arms and hands are there, large or small, whatever I need. He'll allow me to stand on my own, or be supported by his strength if need be.

Suddenly this grey and white art has real color to me...it's subtle, but it's there. And it doesn't shout out anything...it's quiet but insistent. It's amazing.

Thank you honey...I could not have come from this being me without you.