|Sunblind (M.A. Reilly)|
All the desks of my life have faced windows and except for an overwrought two-year period in the late 1980s when I worked on a word processor, I have always spent most of my time staring out the window, noting what is there, daydreaming, or brooding. - Joyce Carol Oates, pp. 137-138
I always seemed to find a window seat throughout my schooling--be it in elementary school or high school or even later, college. I was lucky that way, given as I am to distraction. Place a camera in my hands or an unlined notebook and a chunky piece of charcoal and I can focus rather intently for hours. I'm a keen observer--thanks to years at school and the many ways I learned to amuse myself.
I see in image.
Rearranging bits of landscape into frames of my making.
In the mornings when we drive to work--Rob at the wheel, me sitting shot gun--I'm watching the landscape slowly reveal itself as we make our way down the steep hill that secludes us from the rest of NJ. It's like being in a David Hockney painting--the soft roll of hills, the steeper inclines. Imagine his Garrowby Hill with a single line of cars making their way down, down, down to the mess of highways that typifies this corner of New Jersey. And then its 60 to 70 mph and its all impressionistic until we hit traffic and in northern Jersey it's all traffic all day and the world slows, slows, slows down into a garish version of Juan Gris's The Sunblind.
And I think, we are all elbows that do not move well.
All of us are sunblind.
Oates, Joyce Carol (2009). The Faith of a Writer. New York: HarperCollins.