Many people hurried off to the barn to snap pictures of the cows and architecture. I considered it, but the idea didn't hold me. Instead, I marched off toward the nearby creek on my own. I was glad - relieved to be alone where no one could disturb the delicate beauty of the moment. It felt refreshing to be in my own space on my own path. I was curious to see what I would find ahead.
Along the way, the ground grew more and more swampy. I couldn't find any more dry land to set my foot on. I considered going back, but I had already walked quite a distance. I continued on and was very pleased when I saw the view at the creekside. This was the right spot. I basked in the scenery for a while, then took a few pictures, one of which I used for my final art project:
The drawing turned out to be very difficult for me because the wet leaves did not have clear edges. I love the concept of "line" in art, but the lines in this photo were not well-defined. I stared and stared at the photo, straining my eyes to distinguish the forms of the individual plants at the water's edge. My professor advised me to draw in a less precise manner, as the image was imprecise. That sounded easy, but it proved to be a struggle for me. I left the classroom day after day with black hands from drawing and smearing, erasing and drawing, smearing and rubbing. I must have looked like a coal miner! And for me, I did feel like I was trying to dig up a treasure.
That was ten years ago. Looking back, I see something new in the picture. I see myself. I see my Asperger's Syndrome.