Godly Leisure
I gaze across the universe, searching for life in the void. Life is where the art is, where I need to be. A flash of bright blue planet catches my interest. I focus my attention and am delighted to find sentience. The creatures that have evolved here are soft and tiny with few legs and little hair. My interest in the evolution of such a weak creature is peaked, but I did not come here to work. I concentrate on the planet. Earth, they call it. I arrive when there are roughly 7.53 billion beings, self-named humans, living on a dying planet still vibrant with life. But this number will fluctuate as I travel the timeline.
Shrinking down, invisible to all but myself, I browse the creations of my creations. I don’t plan to explore long, just a century, maybe two.
First, I find the greats. I gaze at a star filled sky as Vincent Van Gogh contemplates a night in France. I applause alongside Queen Elizabeth I during the first showing of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I soak up Freddie Mercury’s energy as he belts his soul at Live Aid. I dance in the crowd at Woodstock, enveloped by the crowd, the music, and the buzz of human experience. The 25th anniversary performance of Les Misérables, the filming of Dead Poets Society, the years it took to paint the Sistine Chapel, I explore every renown artists in Earth’s history. Then I go further.
I discover the talents who never found fame, uncover works lost to humanity. I experience heartbreaking performances, most of which are too close to the artists heart to share with the world. I find discarded masterpieces, trashed for being too eccentric for the public’s appreciation. I laugh in delight as I watch children paint unicorns, rainbows, cupcakes and elephants. The spirit in their mistakes inspire me. Art classes, school concerts, run down galleries, small town shows, I am there for it all, filled with pride by the purity of each human’s attempt to bring more beauty and meaning to life.
All artistic works that have and ever will exist, all the different definitions of art and forms of expression, I am there for their creation. I watch while they are performed. I laugh, cry, and brim with rage as the art intuitively requests. I see it all. I feel it all. And when I finally reach the end of my explorations, I am exhausted and changed.
It has been said by many beings, humans included, that there is an infinite feeling that accompanies art; this indescribable understanding that art is powerful, ethereal, forever. This feeling is me in the art, experiencing a completely different form of creation, hand in hand with the creators. My energy becomes intrinsic to it, my presence forever tied to its existence.
I’d like to claim selflessness, generosity, but I gain as much from art as it does from me.
Satisfied, I give Earth one last glance then retreat. Having found plenty of inspiration, I get back to work.