Written by Maeve

Saturday afternoon, we walked into the campus art museum.

Michael is visiting town from back home. Having him in Radford feels like being back in Henry County, he reminds me of home. We enter this exhibit out of pure obligation. We look at the first several pieces, and we discuss the symbolism and the meaning behind the pieces. Art begins to remind me of poetry. We bond over a dislike of normalcy but a similar distaste for intense abstraction. My mind is clouded with emotion from my personal life. Anxiety, resentment, excitement, unease, admiration.

We are still in Radford, until we are not.

I look at this painting. Her brush strokes are filled with passion. You can tell by looking at this piece that she loved painting it. Contrast between the delicate limbs at the top of the picture compared to the larger strokes at the bottom. Consistency with the colors used. Different perspectives on this painting open different doors to different aspects of the painting. Further back, it looks multi-dimensional. One is able to see the sweeping valley with the creek rushing through the center. With a lean back and a squint of my eyes, I am taken to the valley in Graysontown VA. 

I feel the breeze on my skin and hear the babble of the creek. I am on a hike through this valley, holding hands with my loved one. I am swimming and splashing in the creek, laughing with my best friend. I am stopping by my favorite view in the state to take a picture so I can sit down and encapsulate the memory of this precious location onto a canvas. 

Up close, one is able to notice what was painted first and the artistic decisions she made when finishing the painting. Every stroke of this piece feels so deliberate and purposeful. No matter where one looks, there is a seemingly dainty tree that is clear. I am forever jealous of this tree, as it is in this world all of the time. Frozen in a world that I will never know. 

I have to leave this exhibit, turning away from this world that will never truly be mine. I am filled with solace when I return to the grays and mute colors of my real world. I then look at Michael and am reminded of the beauty of our world. 

This painting is the definition of beauty, but my true life is filled with love. We sit and reflect on our experience with this exhibit while we look out onto the campus. I’m reminded of the autumn breeze on my skin as I walk to class, the sound of the water fountain babbling that must serve as the background music for scenes from millions of moments of people I will never know but will understand their beauty by association. 

I hear the flirtation between two students at the front desk, and I am brought back to the reason for art itself. The purpose of poetry and paintings and pondering of art on a Saturday afternoon: love. 

Saturday afternoon, we walked into the campus art museum. Michael is visiting town from back home. Having him in Radford feels like being back in Henry County, he reminds me of home. We enter this exhibit out of pure obligation. We look at the first several pieces, and we discuss the symbolism and the meaning behind the pieces. Art begins to remind me of poetry. We bond over a dislike of normalcy but a similar distaste for intense abstraction.

We are still in Radford, until we are not.

You are still in Radford, until you are not.