mygreenblanket: from town to country

August 9th, 2007.
I spent the summer studying in London.

My group was at the National Gallery, venturing however we wanted through the museum. I was contemplative and moody and bothered and curious so I left my friends and wandered by myself. Room to room I took notes, as I always do in museums when I travel, which is always overwhelming because I can never record it all in the time frame allotted, and makes me irksome I can't retain everything in the glass cases. Leather book in hand, was meandering, and literally diverted into a straight path to "this" painting. "What's happening?!", I thought. I couldn't stop my legs from dragging me as my Jack Russel does-pulling me to see closer. What is this an advertisement for a bad horror film? Keep reading. I was literally drawn to this picture (pun intended). There were hundreds of people at the gallery on this day, and more hundreds of magnificent paintings bordering "this" one. But I couldn't take my eyes off it, and walked as if hypnotized until I was standing a foot from it.

For some unknown reason, not a single person in the hallway was looking at this painting. I had it all to myself for minutes which dragged on for hours in my enchantment. Lets be honest here, it made me cry, and I have no idea why. I am NOT that emotional of a person. On the defense, I read and watch tons of emotional/thoughtful/suspenseful/sad what have you movies, books, art, and it takes a good line or scene to trigger me. Yet, the chills were withstanding while I gaped and forgot my chin abilities like a child in front of Willy Wonka's shop. What I finally came to realize was that this picture, with a frame shining like the light at the end of the tunnel, which I promise you you'll see in a moment, gave me a thirty-second connection with my father. The rainbow. The rainbow stood out in the picture as if I had never seen one before. Like a baby experiencing the feeling of sand under their toes for the first time, or a teenagers first heart-break, or a sunset with a new lover. The awe was something unexplainable, and the moment ended as soon as people disturbed the string between the picture and I. Maybe they saw a young American girl loitering a tad too long, not too sure, but I could promise you there was no glitter or glam about this. Just a random calling, which i succumbed to. Lingering in my thoughts and then brought to reality, I scampered in my head, "Not enough time!" I needed to be alone with it longer. I yearned to be Constable in that moment. The poetic nature of the photo wasn't something I'd normally be attracted too. Not modern in the least, nor representative of grungy poetry like Ginsberg. It was classic, and I thought of Wordsworth and Blake. I guess London was getting to me.

I should probably reveal the painting to you, but I only wrote it down once the moment passed, so I'm trying to retell this chronologically. John Constable's, "Salisbury Cathedral from the Meadow", 1831. The coolest part is, a week later my family and I were scheduled to go to Salisbury to see Stonehenge. Of course I manically noted to visit Salisbury Cathedral, hopefully from the meadow, and get this EXACT view Constable drew.

Forward to ten days later, we did see it. I say we, because I practically begged my family to come with me, and proclaimed my own self-righteous need to "connect" with the artist. "I AM an artist, mom". Although I came to find Salisbury Cathedral in fact is quite popular for tourists in Salisbury, probably because it's the biggest looming church in the quaint English town. Although, it is stunning...and a little eerie. I tried to ford the river (more like a small stream) and searched for a meadow surrounding the outskirts of town. I must've circled the site three times, counter and clock wise. Nada. Took me a little too long to admit to myself that things had to (or were forced) to change since 1831. Hellooooo I was standing next to a gift shop, and had 10 options on how I wanted to scale a picture. Key chain or 3D frame M'am? My dream would have come true if a rainbow decided to pop up that day, August 19th, 2007 (the day after my birthday). It didn't. And that's okay. I realized, what you see in a museum from the greats is something portrayed from their eyes and hands. You can see what they saw, but have a completely different experience. Also, not many people have the opportunity to be in a city where a painting was inspired, and actually search out a very, very specific locale. Though, Constable's reality is questioning, especially after you study the comparisons of the artist's portrayal and my own photography "skills" below. The colors of the sky, blurred edges of reds and oranges of the rainbow, and the possible accuracy of the forlorn drifters almost annoyingly made me wonder if a day like this ever happened. I would surely hope so because I love fairy tales, and to me Disney could base a wonderful scene in far far away with this photo. Casting the perfect princess and villain lurking behind the shadows of the Douglass Firs. Ultimately, the picturesque town brought me closer to an epiphany-Esq emotion I have ever felt in my life.