I don’t photograph art. Partly to ensure that I appreciate and respect the art, and partly because I know a photograph will never do the art justice.
I made this pledge in Quito, Ecuador, at La Capilla del Hombre, the architectural and artistic vision of Oswaldo Guayasamín. His paintings are stirring, and I cherish the time I spent enraptured by them (and having heart-to-hearts with Verónica) rather than photographing them.
But I guess it’s true what they say–that rules are meant to be broken–because I couldn’t resist photographing this pig from a mural at a school I visited last week. I love how art doesn’t follow rules either, how a child’s painting of a pig can go outside the lines of what some people would define as art, and yet still capture my heart.
It reminded me of how I used to watch Saturday morning cartoons and draw. Just me and my imagination. And every day in fifth grade, after taking care of the classroom pets and before the opening school bell rang, my friend and I could be found at the blackboard, drawing Yoshi in chalk again and again.
Before I decided what I wanted to be when I grew up, I just was. Before knowing what I wanted to do, I just did. I wasn’t worried about tomorrow, I was drawing. I wasn’t seeking approval; I was doing what came naturally. I wasn’t checking to see that I was doing what other people expected of me. I was doing what I enjoyed.
Maybe going outside of the lines isn’t out of line after all.
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