APPRECIATING TALENT

JUNE 14, 2021 – Until recently, I’ve slogged through life with a load of envy. Whenever I encountered some highly talented musician or artist, I’d say to self, “Gee, I wish I could play like that!” or “Wow! I sure wish I could paint!”

Possessing neither the talent nor discipline to emulate an artist—musical or visual—I yielded to unproductive frustration. Inevitably, I realized that to achieve even rank mediocrity would require more than the meagre resources at my disposal.

But then my wife’s long-time friend Sue joined us this weekend at the Red Cabin. Sue’s a perceptive observer, an intrepid birder and naturalist, a funny and insightful writer, and . . . a talented watercolorist. We’d seen samples of her work before and were duly impressed, but during her visit she revealed the contents of her sketchbook. I was struck not only by Sue’s discerning eye and technical proficiency but by her voice of unique clarity expressed in the elements of visual art.

As I turned the pages slowly and pondered her work, I arrived at a wonderful realization: I was enjoying someone’s talent, entirely free from the desire to emulate it. Moreover, I wasn’t viewing art in some famous museum or gallery. I stood in a corner of our cabin, paging through an artist’s sketchbook. Simply put, I was appreciating talent where and when it presented itself.

With her characteristic humility, Sue described her artistic efforts; how she works at it, day by day, and joins a group of artists that meet at a given landmark or another to practice their talent. “There are some really outstanding artists among them,” she said, “and I learn from them.”  I smiled when she later pointed out a sketch that to her amusement had snagged attention. Sue’s modesty obscured from her own discerning view that she herself is one of the “really outstanding artists.”

As she closed the sketchbook, I remarked about my newfound discovery—appreciating talent without the distraction of envy.  Sue understood exactly.

A few minutes later, while sitting out on the dock, a lake acquaintance who likes toys that go fast and has ample funds to acquire them, pulled up on his late model, souped-up PWC. I like the guy because his toy collection includes a ski-track groomer. Though not a skier, he loves the toy, and therefore, he himself—a self-identified Republican—is loved by all the Democrat skiers on the lake (a starting place, perhaps for national reconciliation?). Sitting upon a high-powered toy, he’s an engaging soul. I asked about underwater boulders to avoid with our (slow) pontoon. “Oh yeah,” he laughed. “I go through at least a prop a year.” I then solicited his ski-tracking “services” for our “back 40” next winter. He was happy to volunteer, and I gushed with gratitude.

As the toymeister rode off across the blue, Sue showed me what she’d been sketching furtively. She’d captured the man and his toy, and there in the sunshine of life, I again found myself . . . appreciating talent.

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© 2021 by Eric Nilsson