Grass Bubbles

I was stopped at a red light while on my way to grandpas about 7 years ago (when i was about 16), and i looked to my right noticing on the edge of a golf course, by the road, there was a hill of grass different then all the others. it was tall, abnormally tall, disproportionate to how small it was at the base. A man, maybe a golfer, was walking near it or maybe on it, and suddenly (here's where imagination begins) the hill started rising higher and higher out of the ground, bubbling up and off its original surface, like the stuff in a lava lamp, and into the air. the grass, though out of its expected nature, just cooperated with these unnatural, law defying movements in the soil. the man seemed at peace atop that rising bubble of grass and even rested there as though he were in for a long and high ride through the sky to the place he desired far far away, where, when reached, the bubble would lightly settle again into the ground and mix with its surroundings as a drop of water would after falling into a lake...




The light turned green again i noticed (after a while), and as i proceeded to drive i looked out over the golf course, spacious and hilly, and in one beautiful moment every hill began to rise-transporting men to the place they desired. this event remained with me and i could not get it out of my mind for the life of me! while at grandpas i asked him if i could borrow his camera, i not owning one, so i could take pictures of the hills at sunset. he consented, i took the pictures, and a few days later he developed them for me. I sketched out the idea how i saw it in my mind and set out to draw the actual piece. i became discouraged because my depiction of this strange world did not seem to be developing accurately. I felt defeated and left it behind other-more prized pieces of mine on the easel in my high school art room.
winter break came and left, and the weeks passed. while sorting through my art i noticed the long lost piece. within the paper whereon it was drawn, and behind months of collected dust, the world it would be seemed to beg me to create it. I felt it, so i created it. it was successful, and a favorite among many friends of mine.
My interpretation of this piece arises directly from its manner of creation-or the process by which it came into being. The very fact that this piece came alive reminds me that there are an infinite amount of possible histories in our existence. i could have never went to grandpas that day. or the light could have been green disallowing a persisted observance, or even the noticing of the abnormally tall hill. or i could have driven by those hills flat minded and uninspired, never seeing the world of The Grass Bubbles. Or i could have never ventured to draw it, just too busy maybe. Or i could have never decided to look back at the drawing and listen to it telling me to finish. Heck i could have died and that world would have left with me. But no, no all of these facts remained, and so did i, therefore the way was paved for me to create this world i so dreamed, or even to choose not to. But, as my history goes, i chose to-and now it exists, now it lives. with every possible history waiting to happen, that would (because they could) take us into every possible direction, why then would we not choose the one we want-the world WE see? Many of them (possible histories) are laid at our feet, many just happen because history has to happen one way or the other, but to those we have control over let us choose wisely, let us choose how we really want to, for that is how this world, and all of us in it came into being.