Art and About – Archive

I have a set of 50 Franklin Library Collectors Edition books that my parents gave me as a book-of-the-month club gift about 20 years ago. Tolstoy, Dickens, Brontë, Poe and other greats of western literature are all represented. I’ve read a handful of the titles over the years, but the only Franklin spine I’ve ever cracked is the collection of Poe short stories.

The books are beautiful, and they have added decorative class to domicile after domicile. But they also fill me with tremendous guilt. Several of the titles intrigue me, but not enough to actually open the book to chapter one.

There is a common belief that all writers are avid readers. Not only is this a pervasive cultural myth, but it haunts me personally and professionally. Quite regularly, when I tell people I’m a writer, they assume I’m up on the New York Times Bestseller List, and they ask for advice on something to read. Feeling too embarrassed to give away my secret, I often reach back several months, if not years, to recommend the last book I’ve read. You may be surprised to know that the question “What are you currently reading” is a common job interview query. I’m prepared for it, though, and come ready with an answer. I don’t have to lie. I am usually in the middle of a book — I just haven’t made any progress in the last, say, six months. The Harry Potter books excepted.

I used to be a reader. While growing up, I loved to walk the library aisles carefully selecting the next imaginary adventure. But college quickly killed my desire to read. As a liberal arts major, so many words crossed my eyes every day via required reading that the last placed I turned to for escapist entertainment was the written word. During my seven years of higher education, I eventually became a non-reader. I’m not proud of it — it just happened. I have done some self analysis and determined that because I am an auditory person, I must have burned out the circuits that take in visual information. I know, bad amateur psychology.

Then I interviewed a highly educated UC Berkeley professor and architect for a story I was writing about his new book and he confided that he was also a non-reader. I don’t know how we got on that topic. I certainly didn’t bring it up. But this extremely intelligent, articulate, creative man (I won’t blow his cover by divulging his identity) corroborated my burn-out theory from his college days. I know, bad amateur psychology validation.

Back to my Franklin Library. I always figured that I might fill the holes in my literary repertoire when my kids were assigned the books in school. I would read along with them as a way of enticing myself to get the classics under my belt.

Ironically, my collegiate alma mater lured me back to reading. Last December, Stanford launched a community reading project called Discovering Dickens. This spring, I have been reading weekly installments of Dickens’ “Great Expectations.” The project produced “Great Expectations” in its original, serialized format and sent it to eager readers every Friday for 18 weeks. This was intended to recreate the great expectations of 1860s Londoners who waited impatiently from week to week for their dose of Dickens.

The experiment worked completely. My father-in-law ordered the series, would read the weekly chapters and then start passing them around the family. I read the issues during the 2 a.m. feeding for my newborn and, I kid you not, I actually looked forward to her waking up so I could continue with the story. Each week I anxiously anticipated receiving the new chapters. The baby began sleeping through the night when I was within two riveting chapters of the end. I agonized whether to finish during daylight, but I got two more interrupted nights of sleep shortly thereafter and was glad to have my Dickensian companions.

My interest in reading has been jump started. With literary rejuvenation, I have pulled “David Copperfield” off the shelf, and organized a pecking order of the Franklin Library books. The baby still gets up in the middle of the night every once in awhile, and reading a classic is a welcome alternative to the drivel on late-night television. Maybe this time when I finish the new Harry Potter book, I’ll turn around and find out what “Mutiny on the Bounty” is really all about.

I can’t help myself. I’ve tried to suppress this column for months, but it needs to bubble forth. There is so little positive energy being generated by the media these days, that I am compelled to use this space to share how one person in my life uses a blend of creativity and technology to send joyful, peaceful and positive vibes to me on a regular basis.

The subject of this column did not want me to write about him, so I am not going to. Instead, I’m going to write about what he does. I’ll call him Dan for our purposes.
Dan is an artist and an email acquaintance of mine for about a year now. He contacted me after reading some of my stories in the Sun. Dan does stunning nature photography and after he and I corresponded through a few text exchanges, he put me on one of his mass emailing lists to send me information about his photographic pursuits. I admit, when I first realized I was included on his mailing list, I groaned. I’m one of those people who despises being impersonally copied on emailed jokes, pleas from “good causes,” stuff about “women’s issues,” or whatever else I didn’t ask to be sent.

But being on Dan’s list actually is a gift. Most Mondays, and often once or twice throughout the rest of the week, I check my morning email and there is a message of hope and inspiration from Dan cued up first among the unread messages. His emails usually contain a scene from nature he photographed within the last 48 hours, accompanied by a spiritual and uplifting quote. The quotes are taken from cultures around the world, while the photos are often the topography and flora we see in our Contra Costa backyards every day. I have seen pictures of Mt. Diablo this year through Dan’s lens that are unlike any other interpretations. Dan usually includes only a brief message describing where and when he took the photo, and wishing us all blessings and peace. Getting one of these messages is quite an invigorating way to start the day.

Using the wonders of modern technology, Dan has found a very personal way to touch my life with his art. I don’t know very much about Dan other than the fragments of his soul which he has revealed through his photography. I do know that he is the only person in my life with whom I have regular spirit-to-spirit communication exclusively via artwork.

It seems to me that Dan has hit upon a way to share humanity — and art is uniquely human— through computer technology which often gets knocked for being cold, impersonal and isolating. In the global aftermath of war and the realities of economic depression, we need more human-to-human contact to keep the world from falling apart, even if it’s just our little corner of the world. Many of us sit down at a computer every day. A lot of us snap pictures all the time of the people, places and objects we find inspiring. Try testing how fast your Internet connection can transport your heart into cyberspace.