How One Piece of Art Gave Me Hope For Better Days Ahead

I knew then that our life becomes how we choose to see it.

The aim of art is not to represent the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance — Aristotle

The colors might be the first thing you see at a glance at this piece. Art should stand out.

But take a moment to look, see, think and feel.

What draws you in?

What speaks to you?

There is a story behind every artist's creation.

This piece was inspired by a conversation with my son one day while I dropped off groceries at his apartment during the lockdown.

As risky as it was, my motherly instinct kicked in, and I chose to do the grocery shopping during a raging pandemic. Safety was a high priority; I felt I would do a better job of it on the outside.

It was also my excuse to see my son and his girlfriend when socialization was limited.

I needed the connection with them more than anything.

My visits were usually short. It was necessary to exercise safety and move on.

But on one of my visits, I couldn't contain what weighed heavily on my mind. I stood by the doorway as I engaged my son in a conversation.

I expressed the hopelessness I felt in no uncertain way — The world seemed at a standstill. The smell of death permuted the air. A once busy NYC street felt like a ghost town.

The hopelessness was weighing me down.

I ensured my personal paperwork was in order the best way I could; I felt it was just a matter of time; I, too, could become a statistic.

It was like preparing him for the unexpected.

My son would later interpret my feelings by creating this masterpiece.

He wanted to give me hope for better days ahead — days when the sun would shine again and we no longer feel imprisoned by a pandemic.

We’re getting there.

Here's a brief introduction for those of you who may not have the pleasure of meeting my son.

My son works a corporate job in advertising, but he’s a multiplicity artist who is skilled in various fields of the arts; digital and canvas painting happens to be among them.

My son told me in a recent conversation —

“Making Art never feels like work.Thats where I turn to relax and calm my nerves when the need arises. Art, not only benefits the artist who creates them. Art has proven benefits to the onlookers too”.He continued…

“Art has helped me and others I know get through some of the most difficult times in life”. Its no wonder art collectors invest big money in the fine art that often left onlookers in awe”. These collectors know the benefits of a great creation that others are yet to see and feel for themselves”.He said.

My son is always creating something. But during the lockdown, his need to create intensified. It was contagious too as his girlfriend, a medical student then, now a resident doctor, sat beside him on the floor of their NYC apartment in her own creative world — Paintbrush, canvas, and her stock of colors.

But among his numerous creations, this one stands out for more reasons than one — It was specially made for me.

It is my masterpiece and hung dominant on the wall of my NYC apartment.

It is not just eye-candy decor that grabs your attention the moment you walk in. It is a story that holds significant, and special memories etched in my heart for a lifetime — one that an onlooker will never quite understand the way my son and I do.

Today, I look at art with a deeper meaning. I may not understand it the exact way its creator does, but as I look, see, think and embrace what I feel, I am always mindful that the power is within me to envision my life the way I choose to see it.

Envision the life you want to live. You may not stroke your paintbrush the way my son does to create a beautiful masterpiece for the world to see. But the picture you make in your mind is by far the most crucial piece of art you’ll ever create.

Your life becomes how you choose to see it.

Create the life you want to live.

This article is in response to May’s Coffee Times Life prompt collaboration with Yana Bostongirl and David Perlmutter

I invite you to view some of my other collections created during the pandemic by my son, Nicholas Anglin.