What do you think about when everything is hidden from you?
Learning about silence in a crowded world from Rothko
Art is an adventure into an unknown world, which can be explored only by those willing to take the risks. ~ Mark Rothko
When I was a freshman in college, I was quick to dismiss Mark Rothko’s color field paintings as nothing more than an elaborate ruse to make something out of rectangular blocks of color. But recently after staring at them at the National Gallery of Art, I couldn’t help but sink into my own feelings, my own silence. I don’t know if it was the color absorbing me, or my mood being the decider. I thought about the question: “What do I think about when everything is hidden from me?”
Rothko gives the viewer a sense of power, letting us sink into whatever state we’re in, giving us some validity to exist without the bombardment of ready-made definitions, structured ideas, or false words. “His work doesn’t have identifiers, so it leaves us to decide what to take away,” my sister mentioned. “He’s not someone I admire, but I still consider his art important.”
His work moved to mythological themes and Surrealism after World War II, as a way to explore tragedy, and later with pure colors he chose to emphasize color in the absence of recognizable subjects. Perhaps in this raw form, we could begin to understand human tragedy in a world that is numb to violence.
After staring at Rothko's Canvas (1969–70), I realized I could paint heavy, thick brush strokes over the images of my life, so I stopped posting, and being active on instagram. I realize not every one of my whims has to be out there. Sometimes more can be said with silence. I sometimes feel most of my relationships are not connected to this platform in meaningful ways. Often the friends I have through social media are ephemeral, existing in passing as moonlight. The less I post, the more I sink into the corners of my life, focusing on teaching, writing poems, and bird watching.
I’m going to be a mom soon. I don’t feel like it yet, because the baby is “still in the making.” But there are signs out there, like these soft flutters that signal something will arrive soon. I feel it more when I find silence. I don’t know the sex yet— a personal choice. I want it to be a surprise. My parents have taken guesses based on dreams. My partner knows but won’t tell anyone.
When I think about posting updates or photos, it fills me with drudgery, because it seems attention seeking for personal reasons rather than a benefit for all. The Gaza/Palestine posts and ongoing university protests against US’ continued support for genocidal Israel, are the only ones that seem necessary right now. Everything else feels empty, even my own joy.
Maybe that’s not all the way true. Creating something in your own corner of the universe—whether art, music, writing, life— brings joy and respite from the cruelness of the world.
I’ve taken a momentary break from fiction, and diving more into poetry. I’ve published two poems so far this year. There’s a time when I want to read my poems to an audience and other days, I just want to investigate its limits on my own. Sometimes we want to put something out there, to get feedback, to share in the moment, and that’s a lovely thing especially for beginner writers, but it’s also pleasant to let time and editing unravel knots. I’ve read my poems in a few readings this year. In the last couple of months my teaching schedule has conflicted with weeknight readings. I miss my writing groups— their stories, and the motivation and feedback you receive. But sometimes you have to venture on your own. Hearing so many voices and opinions at once, can produce a stagnant effect, where the process doesn’t feel spontaneous anymore. It doesn’t truly feel yours. A rule book can be nice, other times, you want to get lost, because the getting lost allows you to find the unexpected.
I never knew how much I enjoyed teaching until I started teaching adult ESOL/ESL last year. I’ve taught after school before, but having your own class and being able to create lesson plans is an illuminating experience. There’s urgency and excitement to learn the language, because many students are new immigrants who are getting adjusted to living in the states. Through life skill lessons, activities, and games, I’m teaching not just parts of speech and grammar, but also practical lessons on everyday situations like going to the doctor, being a tenant, eating healthy, and other subjects. I’m so lucky to be able to do this; to be able to have an impact on people’s life even if small in the grand scheme.
One aspect of teaching that has surprised me is how teachers help each other out with recommendations to make class more interesting and effective, while also sharing their past mistakes. There’s a sense of camaraderie that is generous and honest. I’m always curious about how other teachers create. Just the other day I observed a BASIC English class, and surprisingly, there were several activities I could adapt for an intermediate class.
That’s all for now. Until next time,
Cynthia
