I struggle with the word special. What makes something or someone more special than another? It is a basic question that underpins just about every creative endeavor and relationship I engage with. Even in the body of my own artwork I feel some things are more special than others and I am feeling like a sleuth lately, watching and waiting for where ‘it’ appears, what ‘it’ triggers and what ‘it’ means.  My experience is that holding onto ‘special’ can be a very quick path to suffering….

Like the photo that I downloaded from my camera yesterday.office window

After cropping and framing it just so, I was mesmerized, it felt so special for some reason, something I could sell as art, something precious, something to covet. Ah, there it was. The aspect of special that can be so confusing was moving in. Where on the one hand I immediately wanted to share the joy of this fascinating photo with the world, I also felt the reluctance to let it go.   And it wasn’t that I just wanted ‘it’ to be mine. There was the value I was attaching to it that I wanted to be mine and that I was feeling entitled to as the artist. What a conundrum!

I consider some other photos from the past few days that have also presented as ‘special’, the colorful imperfections of a hand-made ceramic mug,


a day lily at the edge of water


and mist at sunrise…


They all seem to highlight some one thing against a backdrop. Noticing this is of course quickly followed by the realization that the essence of what is highlighted could not be seen as such without the feeling and beauty of the out of focus but very very present essences of what the light is surrounded by. It’s that simple.

Special is just a moment really, light making a point. Special is making the commitment to see this light and notice where it lives in every moment.

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