Oddments

In search of story

Vagaries in Gestation: On Being Linear, Part lll, March 15.17

6 Comments

©M. O’Hern

 

There may be no lines in Nature, but there are lines in Geometry, where I learned that a line is an infinite series of dots, that we see only a segment of it as it stretches into infinity. That hurt my head.

Can’t a line be just a line? Must Geometry ruin more than an hour of the school day? Must it contaminate every sketch wherein a line suggests a form, a gesture?

These lines tell of a hand, our first tool and our last. If the lines stretch into infinity, how fitting that they take with them this transient tool. This hand, no longer useful, waits. My pencil reaches out, as does my heart, to that waiting, transcribing it to something see-able. Something tangible. Some way to show what I feel. Some way to keep my dad.

When I sketched this, I didn’t know he would die in two days. I only knew that I was seeing things that no one else saw. I was alone at his bedside, as usual. I am sure that, as it sketched, my hand was also reaching out. Would anyone ever know what this was like for the solitary daughter? Yes. Now you know.

If the line we see is only a segment of its infinite self, what does that tell us about everything else we see?

It flows then like the line that the simplicity of a sketch is not simple at all.

 

 

 

Vagaries in Gestation

 

 

6 thoughts on “Vagaries in Gestation: On Being Linear, Part lll, March 15.17

  1. Strong memories based around a sincere loss.

    • Indeed the memories are very strong. Some memories are, as I’m sure you know. I’m very glad to hear from you! Is everything all right at your home?

  2. The lines that flow from your drawing and words reach out on so many levels, and continue to extend far beyond the time and space of that seemingly simple sketch. An appropriate ending to your profound musings on art and lines, Maureen.

  3. It can be good to let blogging take us where it wants – a bit like you hear some writers say they do not control their characters. I’m sorry you lost your dad in a temporal way, but we never really lose people if we’re lucky enough to have known them at all well. They stay with us.

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