“Everything has its beauty, but not everyone sees it.” — Andy Warhol
“He who seeks beauty will find it.” — Bill Cunningham
I went to university as a history and art history major. And although I know way too much for anyone to want to talk to me at a cocktail party about ancient Chinese artifacts, the floor plans of some obscure basilica or the difference between Ionic and Doric columns (to say nothing of Corinthian), what I love best is public art. Street art. Galleries in coffee shops. Art on the walls of bookstores. Sculptures by the roadside. Unexpected masterpieces in gardens, on feed barns, in abandoned phone booths and, yes, at the local post office.
More than 10 years ago, we won permission from the postmasters and landlords of the Inverness and Point Reyes Post Offices to use their wall space. I remember standing on a windowsill, kneeling on a mailbox, to string the twine across the windowpanes. Our official goal was to showcase art from the local schools. My personal goal was to let students feel the pleasure of seeing their artwork on display.
In my fourth grade, we drew daffodils on black paper with happy yellow chalk. Our teacher “framed” our work with colorful paper borders. The pieces were displayed in the multipurpose room decked out to look like an art gallery. Parents walked around, admired and observed. We felt like—and we were—artists.
I still remember.
Art makes you slow down and see that life isn’t all about medical bills, deadlines or who cut you off in traffic. Art plucks at your heartstrings. It opens windows you might have accidentally sealed shut. Take the time to drink in the pictures next time you collect your mail.
Because art is for everyone.