The Art of White Space

August 1, 2017

 

A blank white canvas hangs alongside the

Picassos, Monets, Chagalls, and Warhols.

Intentionally unfilled,

a blank white canvas hangs as a radical statement of brazen independence against the system, they say.

 

A blank white canvas hangs in

charmingly silent defiance as gawkers snap

photo after photo of its pristine plainness, all the while completely ignoring the Picassos, Monets, Chagalls, and Warhols juxtapositioned mere feet away. Crowds taking pictures of pictures. Art imitates life, they say.

 

Indeed, how the art of white space is so wonderfully untainted, immaculate, peaceful. Perhaps my own life demands just a little less white noise and a little more

 

white space.

 

How nice it would be to quiet all incoming thoughts of i-gotta-gotta-gotta, pull a Henry David Thoreau,

and just live off-grid for just a day, or maybe just for

 

forever.

 

Alongside the Picassos, Monets, Chagalls, and Warhols,

I contemplate Life, Art, Myself – intentionally unfilled, with potential so untapped, yet so trapped

by tiring dependence on the system,

the grind, the hustle, the internal noise.

As gawkers snap selfie after selfie, I just wish

to be swallowed straight up into the blank white canvas

where there is surely no evil, no ego, no pressure for the dreamily Facetuned Tweet, no pressure to obey – nothing but untainted, immaculate, bottomless peace.

I guess I just crave a life with a little more

 

space.

 

A space

 

in the crowd finally opens. I now stand directly in front of this

minimalist conception of emptiness.

Worth $10.5 million, they say.

The blank white canvas represents society’s radical, brazen independence against the system, they say.

I find myself staring back at a canvas filled with deafening silence, staring back at colorful emptiness –

 

staring back at myself.

 

I am here, in this very moment, the only place I ever really need to be.

 

That stupid thing my sister said last Tuesday, the email lists I still need to unsubscribe to, my third miscarriage, today’s grim CNN headlines, I don’t really need those shoes, I should really call my mom, my deathward spiral of a career, my husband’s accidental overdose, gosh I really want a puppy, how many likes Kim Kardashian’s Instagram post, I need to shave my legs, buy the damn shoes, – noise, noise, noise, noise, noise.

 

Alongside the company of the Picassos, Monets, Chagalls, Warhols,

and the blank white canvas, I declare to myself

 

that for today and all the days of my life I will fully embrace the art of

 

white space.

 

I let my mind empty and connect to the power of breath, today and for all of my days.

 

Painting my thoughts with nothing but the sparkling energy of white.

 

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