Friday, April 16, 2010
Carrots and Willow Trees
As a little experiment yesterday morning, I tried singing while I drew. I sang three songs and made three drawings. Then the telephone rang. I didn’t answer it, of course. I rarely do. As handy as they are, I don’t like telephones. I far prefer carrots. Then I did a fourth drawing: it was of a carrot, but not the usual kind — this carrot had its eyes closed, and was deep in thought. Because I’d been interrupted by the telephone, I forgot to sing while I drew it. To make up for it, I sang to it after it was done. The carrot’s eyes stayed closed, but I knew it was listening. And then, to celebrate, I wrote a little carrot poem:
O, to be a carrot in a garden,
surrounded by other carrots that are silent
because it’s been so long — so long
they’ve finally forgotten
what it means to be human.
Or maybe they do remember.
Yes, on the other hand,
maybe they do.
After which, I ruined my carrot drawing by adding a hairy core down the middle, effectively splitting its face and slicing its melancholy nose. Upside down, though, the carrot looks like a counter top cup holder.
The first song I sang was “Vincent.” Paint your palette blue and gray, look out on a summer day, and so on. I ended up with a drawing of the trunks of two trees that had grown together:
After that, I switched to a sad song in Armenian, about a river and a willow tree:
And then I sang a song my mother used to like, and which I still do: “Once Upon a Time.” Do you know it? Once upon a time, we sat beneath the willow tree, counting all the stars, waiting for the dawn. But that was once upon a time, and now the tree is gone.
All pretty silly, I guess. But, do you know what? If I were a carrot, it wouldn’t be.
In the Forum: bathing in streams and public fountains.