Think
of it, were they (the writer, producer and director
of
such things) to make a movie of my life, of the two or
three
hour variety in length, the editors would step up and
have
a heyday slicing and cutting
away
all the boring and mundane scenes which amounted
to
nothing of interest to anyone who may be curious in
viewing
such a thing. No, I think perhaps a black and white,
artsy
docudrama, a silent film of 15-minutes or so, the
type
with an unsteady camera flashing still shots in a
series
of me looking into the camera and progressing in
age
from two-years old to my current age of 73. The
music
bed would be playing, perhaps William Barber’s
Adagio
for Strings, a haunting but stirring piece. No
narrative
portion would be needed, the pictures and
musical
score would carry the theme. The audience may
note
that I never smiled in all those drab and unimposing
scenes.
How sad, he seemed to take life so seriously.
You
think of yourself, all those pictures taken, birthdays,
holidays,
celebrations, vacations, momentous occasions,
and
some drunken dodo with a camera tells everyone to
say
“cheese.” Those are the infrequent highlights in life,
dear
viewer. Who but the consummate artist would
pose
for the unaccountable and uninteresting remainder
of
it? Where are the lighthearted poses of joy and jubila-
tion
in Rembrandt's portfolio? Why, even da Vinci’s
Mona
Lisa is barely amused.
-30-
Chris
Hanch 5-30-2020
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