Long ago and far away, I dated a man from the Dominican Republic. He was a dancer and we spent most of our evenings watching either hockey or ballet. I was, I must admit, quite infatuated with the idea of dating someone from a ballet company. It is often the ideas of things we have a crush on, isn't it? The reality of our relationship is a little fuzzy, since my concept of it was so vastly off base. It turns out the real lives of Princes Charming are not made of organza and tulle, nor populated by wandering minstrels. I never truly accepted this discrepancy.
This is what I remember most about him: He said "There is enough ugly in life. Art should be beautiful." He said this because I tended toward the edgey, spikey, thinky kinds of art. I still do. But his statement resonated with me.
Here's what I wonder: If people end up looking like their dogs, do they also end up acting like their art?
Both of these make me nervous. I kind of wanted a pug (although Sugarplum nixed that when we read about eyes popping out). I think we do end up acting like our art. I, for one, get snippy if I listen to too many hours of old school British punk. I do not currently have much artwork that's the equivalent of old school British punk, but I used to. I wonder if it was his comment that weaseled its way into my tastes?
Like my dancer prince, I want life to be made of organza and tulle - I just want it to be smart organza and opinionated tulle. I want it to make the world better and smarter and edgier. I want it to be beautiful and honest and faithful to itself. I want it to lift things up, not cover them up.
It's a fine line, and I want to make sure I'm not going the route of rose-colored glasses.
It's also possible he just didn't want to go to art openings with me any more. Right after the art comment, he may have said "I don't especially like your friends and I don't understand their art and I think there's a game on." I just heard the bit about beauty.
It's the kind of things pretend princes say.