The Avon Echo

by Avalynn Bullerdick

The first time I saw the painting, my world froze. Gathering Storm. Such an ominous title. I wonder what compelled Ivan Ayvazovsky to create such a masterpiece. Is that how he saw his life? A gathering storm? Not yet erupting but living on the brink of a hurricane? I feel that’s a sad way to live. To always have a feeling of eventual downpour. His life must’ve been something grand yet heartbreaking for someone to be as talented and honest as he was in his work. I pity him in a way. I know nothing about his life except for the piece that opened my heart. It caved its way into my brain. He could’ve lived a delightful and content life for all I know. It could’ve been his brain that encouraged his storm. Or he could’ve been foreshadowing his storm. It may not even be HIS storm. I hope it wasn’t his storm. I could easily discover what his piece was about. What provoked him to create such a beautiful thing. But I won’t. I enjoy not knowing. At least with this piece. Perhaps that guilts me in a way. To show such a lack of interest in something so meaningful. I wonder if that upsets him. To only be acknowledged for his work. It would upset me I believe. Would that be his storm? Getting lost in in the future? Becoming unknown? Perhaps I’m contributing to his gathering. Perhaps I’m contributing to the downpour. I should regret contributing to such a tragedy I believe. I pity him. That’s not the way to live. Unknown. Only known by a painting. Would Ivan care? Would he be upset for people refusing to understand? Would I be upsetting him? For ignoring the true meaning for my own. This piece is obviously significant to him. Should it be for us? I pity him. For pouring his heart onto a canvas just for others to ignore his heart. His mind. We just admire. We admire its looks and formulate different meanings in our head for what we think fits. Is that in itself a sad way to live? To ignore the true meanings that help us understand the world and its inhabitants? To be blinded by our own thoughts. That guilts me too.