Me

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Yes, this is me. For those of you who have never seen me, you probably wouldn’t realize this is me unless you can somehow morph my writing into an image of me. If you can, this is what you will see. For those of you who have seen me, either in person or by way of photo, you must recognize me in this work of art.

I always wanted to see how an artist would represent me in a portrait. I realized, of course, that a thousand artists would create a thousand very different portraits. Some would look exactly like me and would be akin to photographs. Some would look something like me but would have some distortion as a means of interpretation. You know, my chin would be longer or wider to better show my strong character. Or my ears would be larger than they really are and my mouth would be smaller to show that I am a listener, not a talker. Some of the portraits would look nothing like me. They might look something like this

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and most observers wouldn’t be able to guess that it represents a human being.

Then there would be a few images like the first one above. They are not abstract and are not photo-like. They are something not classifiable. They are created by the hands and minds of true artists, and are haunting in their accuracy and their creativity. Viewing them, you are struck by the originality and the viewpoint of the creators, and understand that no other human could have conceived a work just like them. There is no doubt that the artists put their hearts and their creative souls into the works, and that they will withstand the test of time. They will never be passé or obsolete. They are, in a word, art.

The artist? My granddaughter, Emma Weaver.

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