Every artist makes himself born. It is very much harder than the other time, and longer. Your mother did not bring anything into the world to play piano. That you must bring into the world yourself.
Nothing is far and nothing is near, if one desires. The world is little, people are little, human life is little. There is only one big thing – desire. And before it, when it is big, all is little. It brought Columbus across the sea in a little boat, und so weiter.
Wunsch, Thea Kronberg’s music teacher in “Song of the Lark”.
Thea was surprised that she did not feel a deeper sense of loss at leaving her old life behind her. It seemed, on the contrary, as she looked out at the yellow desert speeding by, that she had left very little. Everything that was essential seemed to be right there in the car with her. She lacked nothing. She even felt more compact and confident than usual. She was all there, and something else was there, too – in her heart, was it, or under her cheek? Anyhow, it was about her somewhere, that warm sureness, that sturdy little companion with whom she shared a secret.
When Doctor Archie came in from the smoker, she was sitting still, looking intently out of the window and smiling, her lips a little parted, her hair in a blaze of sunshine. The doctor thought she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen, and very funny, with her telescope and big handbag. She made him feel jolly, and a little mournful, too. He knew that the splendid things of life are few, after all, and so very easy to miss.
Friends of Childhood Chapter XVIII “Song of the Lark” by Willa Cather
One July night, when the moon was full, Doctor Archie was coming up from the depot, restless and discontented, wishing there were something to do. He carried his straw hat in his hand, and kept brushing his hair back from his forehead with a purposeless, unsatisfied gesture. After he passed Uncle Billy Beemer’s cottonwood grove, the sidewalk ran out of the shadow into the white moonlight and crossed the sand gully on high posts, like a bridge. As the doctor approached this trestle, he saw a white figure, and recognized Thea Kronberg. He quickened his pace and she came to meet him.
‘What are you doing out so late, my girl?’ He asked as he took her hand.
The weekend is already coming upon us. How time flies! Been on this planet longer than I like to know. I kind a like it here, though, and hope to stay awhile. Yesterday was a bucolic day, running around here and there, on country roads, with my friend. She loves photography as much as I do, and gets lost in the moment. Swept up with the surrounding visual wonder. What a delight! It’s those little journeys that help you to forget about everything, all the unessential worries that occupy the mind.
Jeffrey Jones offered these very touching words upon the death of my mom. She was an art teacher at New Richmond High School. Her popularity among students, even those who never had her as a teacher, gained her the name Mart, for Ma’ Art.
After my graduation, Mart came up to me and said she wished I would have taken an art class, I laughed and told her “I’m not an artist” And I wasn’t, lol. She told me, When you can see, instead of looking, when you can feel, instead of touching, when you can listen, instead of hearing, you’ll find that artist. Never forgot that. Made sense when I had children. She taught, more than she thought, lol. No one is ever gone, as long as there is someone left who remembers. Mart will be with us, a very long time.
Mart passed away at 90 years, 3 months and 6 days, July 13 2015.
On Tiffany Creek 