A few days ago I went to J. Kirk Richards’ open house. The show featured forty miniature, unfinished portraits of Christ.
I went by myself, which enabled me to look at each face as long as I wanted. The diversity astounded me, especially given the limited constraints of space and subject. The images were all facing forward—there was no variety even in angle or posture—yet each had a unique mood and feel.
It got me wondering if I could do something similar in my own medium of writing. Each artistic field is weighted differently, and I wasn’t sure if the concept of playing with color, light, and line could really translate to language. For instance, there’s no direct linguistic equivalent to the feeling of blue. But writing has the advantage of being able to employ multiple senses, even if indirectly—temperature, texture, taste, sound, smell.
Would it be possible for me to take one subject, something even as simple as a tree or rock, and find forty ways to write about it? How could I convey the warmth of amber or the energy of impasto with my words? How would my writing change if I wrote about something I loved—my family or my faith?
One of my favorite writing exercises at the Segullah retreat was reaching into a bag (with eyes closed), feeling various random objects, choosing one, and working through a series of questions about how we might write about the object. What did it feel like? What color might it be? What memories and places do you associate with it? What other perspectives might you view this object from (what does it look like from the sky, from the ground)? What might this object symbolize in your life? It made me begin to realize the depth of simple things once we apply our own experience to them and the power of being willing to plumb those depths.
As I wandered among the many faces of Christ, almost featureless yet distinct, I wondered about the various ways we communicate, the potential of a single word to have multiple layers, the feelings of color and light.
I wondered about how to write like a painter.
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