Sunday, November 16, 2014

worth more than

I got to thinking about the Lady of Shalott this morning.
She couldn't stop weaving.
And she was all alone in a tower.
Some people think Tennyson wanted to say something about the creative process.
How those who paint or write are isolated.
And compelled.
That although life surrounds them, are separated by the very task set before them.
It has made me ponder the message of all art.
The personal message of the artist.
Seeing life only from a distance as the Lady of Shalott did, as a reflection in a mirror seems a terrible fate.
And it was for her.
Sir Lancelot for all of his bling and jingle jangle really wasn't worth floating down a river over either.

I think when the mirror cracked from side to side, she should have jumped up and cried, "Hooray, I'm off to the market," instead of seeing 'curse' written over her in black letters.
I guess that is part of my personal message.
The color of everyday life is worth more than a tower full of woven magic or a fleet of glittering knights.

No comments: