Will Libraries be Obsolete in 2020 and beyond?

"An Open Book" acrylic on canvas SOLD (prints available)

I haven’t checked out a library book since I purchased my Kindle a few years back. I must say, my experience was a refreshing change. I’m more at home in a library than anywhere else in the world next to a paint store or an Office Depot.

I love the smell of books, the excitement of having the world at your fingertips, and the thrall of people with the same sense of drama. Today was no exception. Our library is adjacent to the local high school, and is home to a poor but diverse community.

"Broken" mixed media on canvas SOLD (Prints available)

On this Saturday, every computer, every chair, every table was filled with students and adults reading magazines or searching for books, and parents helping their children find books for themselves. Movies were being checked out in abundance. Non-fiction books seemed more popular than fiction.

I was struck by how vital a library is to a community; especially one with few resources. I sensed that this weekly or monthly trip to the library was an exciting part of each family’s agenda. Eager smiling faces added to the vibrancy that filled the building.

I waited in line with my books: two on pastel techniques, and two on general basics; my way of taking a refresher course in between regular painting sessions and classes. A woman next to me said, “Oh, you’re an artist, too!” Then she proceeded to tell me all about the class she was taking and how she picked up some books to reinforce what she was learning.

"Victims of War" mixed media on canvas

I hope the public library will always be with us. It meant so much to me as a child. I’d walk a few streets on my own and spend the whole afternoon in its warm embrace reading books, sniffing their wonderful pages, and settling into an imaginative world that took me from my small town roots into an adventure with other worlds and cultures.

In some regions, they are already phasing out the library as we know it. Books are being replaced by computers and digital books. You can download books and never have to return them. It seems to be catching on.

I’m sad for the children who will never experience what it feels like to curl up with a real book and smell the wonder of its pages. As a child, I’d sneak a flashlight into bed. After my mother left the room, I’d read under cover for as long as I could. When she discovered my secret, the magic ended, but not my love for books.

"Fish Market" acrylic on canvas; Uganda

That day in the library, I was happy to see parents and children who still had the excitement of books written on their faces. They renewed my hope in America and in the world. Hunger and thirst for knowledge is a good thing. I hope we never lose it!

The freedom to ask questions and search for answers is what keeps us alive and thriving. Without it, we would become puppets of the state and emotional zombies unable to appreciate a world of wonder and beauty.

"A Joyful Heart" 9 x 12 pastel on Bristol; man from Uganda

Strike a Match, Burn a Candle, Light up the World

"Moonshines" 18x24 mixed media on canvas

Ideas are fragile. They come and go. If you don’t lock them down, they can disappear forever.

I used to keep a small notebook in my car for jotting down ideas driving to and from work. The only problem was, I could only write while I was sitting at a stoplight. So I thought I’d get a recorder and verbalize my thoughts, only I’m not a verbal person. I have to digest ideas and chew on them before writing them down in order to give them expression.

Fleeting thoughts are sometimes incoherent, nonsensical gibberish; but the gems within may grow and multiply, whereas the losers fester for awhile and then dead-end into Never Never Land.

"First Daffodil" 16x20 acrylic on canvas

When I lived alone, I burned candles in the bath, in my bedroom, and anywhere else I needed a glimmer of hope and light. Even with dinner, I’d fix myself something special and light a candle to make the dining experience last. 

Then one day, I became dangerous. I struck a match in the bathroom and the tip of it broke off landing on my nightgown. The flames were frightening. Luckily the sink was near enough to douse myself with water and put the flames out.

I decided either I was getting flighty or the matches were being manufactured differently from before. A few days later, I struck a match in the bedroom to light my bedtime candle, and again the match tip broke off landing on my dresser scarf. The flames ignited instantly, swallowing up everything in sight before I could smother it with a wet towel.

From that point on, I eliminated candles and matches from my bath and boudoir routine. Whether it was the cheapness of the match sticks or my own clumsiness made no difference. I couldn’t afford to burn myself up over anything as silly as a candle.

That experience has come back to haunt me again and again. How fragile and unpredictable that tiny light became once it was ignited. Ideas are like that. They shine but for a moment and then like gossamer wings they fly away unless we kindle the flames that brought them in the first place.

Where do my ideas come from? Some are inspired by past experiences. Others by books I’ve read or movies I’ve seen, or simply by the way light shines on a certain object in a new way.

Nature also inspires me. When a roseate spoonbill comes in for a landing, it looks like it's almost sitting. I couldn't resist the humor of putting one in harness in a parasail; hence, "parasailing spoonbill!"

I have a vivid imagination and always think I see something different in my ordinary surroundings: an ugly face created by the scar of a cut limb or the bark of a tree, a small bush that looks like a huge spider; I’m weird, I know. Artists do see things differently. We see in shapes and color and because of this, the ordinary turns into the grotesque, the scary, or the fantastic in a blink.

Some of my ideas are so clear I can see them come to life in my mind. Others are mere hints or suggestions that require coaxing and fuel to keep them going. Like the end of a lighted match, I never know where my ideas will end up.