About every other weekend, I find myself in the passenger seat of my car, spending a lot of time looking out the window, as I listen to the radio or talk to my boyfriend, Jake (who generously offers to drive the five hour trip!). I have always enjoyed looking out of the window at everything racing past me since I was little. Since I have moved to Iowa, I have made the same long trip home and back countless times—about an average of every other weekend. I have noticed how familiar I have become with a number of landmarks that I will spot over and over: the ugly horse figurine in front of an old farmhouse, the giant hill with cars and trucks lined down the length of it, the Amish furniture store, the creepy, weather beaten buffalo sculptures, the Welcome to Missouri sign.
This most recent trip home, I realized that I might be becoming bored and mentally annoyed with seeing the same old landmarks. I wonder if I were to take photos of everything that normally catches my eye on this trip, would the photos be the same if Jake did the same thing? So on the ride back, I tried to look for something I hadn’t noticed before, and I surprised myself with what had gone unseen until now: tiny, worn-out homes, an interesting old truck out in a field, a trailer home still decked out in Christmas decorations, small town shops. I started asking myself questions about these new finds: “How many different people have lived in this house? What kind of life must they lead? What inspired someone to create this little shop? Do they keep their Christmas lights up all year around?”
Those questions led to a bigger question: “Do I look at art in the same manner?” Every Tuesday and Thursday, I walk into a building on campus, towards the stairway, up the stairs, and into the lecture hall. Part of the routine is my eye landing on a sculpture next to the stairway. This sculpture is a part of my life at least four times a week, and astonishingly enough, the only attention I give to it is letting my eyeballs go where they please and rest on this artwork for a few seconds. I am looking, but not seeing. Once I began to slow down and spend some real time with this particular sculpture, titled Bond, I began asking myself questions- much like I did on the trip home from Missouri. “What was the artist thinking about when he named this piece Bond? Are these abstract hands grasping something? Is this an abstraction of something of very small scale? Why does this sculpture make me begin to think about roses and springtime? If these are hands, could they be holding a piece of rolled up paper- or possibly a looking device? Why did the artist choose nickel and silver on monel?” I took the time to stop and walk around the entire piece. I made some sketches of it, and wrote down how I responded to it.
So are you looking or seeing the Art on Campus all around you? Do you let your eyes go where they please, or do you take control? It is important to find out why your eye is drawn to what it is. Don’t let your eyes be lazy! If they see the same thing every day on your walk to class, set your mind to see something new. Seeing is active, looking is passive. To see is to look past the obvious and expected and to take the time to pay attention. These works of Art on Campus are giving you a gift. If you take the time to actually see them, they will give you the gift of awareness, the ability to experience your surroundings, and keep us in the present moment! Don’t pass them up on that gift.
Celinda Stamy
