Why Zucchini is Green

I love that we call ourselves The Master's Artist. We're writers, yes, but we approach the page as painter to canvas, musician to instrument, dancer to stage. Words are our colors, our notes, the wings on our feet. They're more than mere meaning. They rise and fall like waves, inviting hearts to beat in time with the story they tell. Words matter. Immensely.

How do I know this? Just look at zucchini.

What's the purpose of food? To nourish people, right? So, why all the variety?

Why the colors?


The shapes?

The textures?

Why did God make it look and taste wonderful, when He could have just made it nutritious?

Because God is an artist. And He loves to delight us.

We, however, are busy and preoccupied. When we shop, we keep our eyes on prices. When we cook, we want shortcuts. We become so accustomed to fast food that we eat without tasting--our minds already focused on whatever happens next. We forget the aroma of fresh rosemary or roasted garlic, the flavor of caramelized onions or sautéed mushrooms. And if we're not careful, the same attitude homogenizes our writing. It becomes formulaic. French-fried. Our taste buds adjust, and we convince ourselves that we're satisfied. Then one day we flip open a book and discover a feast. An exquisite metaphor or a perfectly turned phrase invites us to slow down and savor every bite. Like a fine wine, we roll the words over our tongue and feel ourselves physically relax.

Art informs art. Sometimes the best thing we can do for our writing is to push away from the table and go work up a good appetite. You may not be a painter, musician, or dancer, but you can grab your camera and head to the nearest grocery store. Or stroll down a city street and capture the nuanced tones of copper patina and old brick. Suddenly you'll find yourself noticing the reflection of a street lamp on rain-soaked pavement, or the way one red umbrella shines with a joy that a sea of black ones cannot extinguish. You'll delight over the curve of a bell pepper's stem or the cobbled rind of a cantaloupe. Choose to view the ordinary with new eyes. Spend a little time with color and texture, light and line. Chances are you'll see much more than you're looking for.

When I pulled out my camera in Kroger and started snapping shots of red-leaf lettuce, the produce manager walked over and asked if he could help me with anything. I told him why I wanted the pictures, and he not only gave his blessing, he said he was honored I'd chosen his department. He offered to straighten the displays, but I said that wouldn't be necessary. "When I walk into the produce section, I feel like I'm entering an art gallery," I explained.

His smile said much more than his quiet "thank you," and I realized I'd never made the connection before. The arrangement of bins, the explosion of color, the mirrors and angles--all by design. I'd been so enamored with the art, I'd forgotten there must be an artist. Or an under-artist, maybe? I mean, God made the fruit. The manager took what he'd been given and created beauty.

And isn't that the job of any artist? Everything we have is a gift from God--our intellect, talents, resources, ideas. The beauty we create is our gift to Him.

I've heard writers say, if the writing is too beautiful, it distracts from the story. I will never understand that sentiment. If the writing isn't beautiful, I don't have time for the story. Life is short and its moments meant to be fully lived. I don't want to waste my calories or my reading hours. 

Fifteen focused minutes in the produce section freshened my perspective in more ways than I imagined. May we develop a palate for beauty, and the culinary skills needed to create it--whether we're arranging words on a page, or zucchini on a plate.

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For more photographs of the Kroger Art Gallery, click here.

Jeanne Damoff participates in the arts with glee. If she's not writing, she may be creating choreography for musicals, playing piano and singing in her church praise band, snapping photographs, or sketching a portrait. She also loves to laugh. (Points, people! Earn them.) You can find her here at The Master's Artist on alternating Thursdays or at her website, personal blog, or photo blog. (You know you want to.)

Comments

[michael snyder]

Amazing, Jeanne.

You, our artistic God, the fruits and veggies, your words, the colors and shapes and sizes, all of it. And I don't even like zucchini all that much.

Still...tomorrow I plan to spend a few minutes (sans camera) in a nearby produce section.

[Mary E. DeMuth]

You wrote: I've heard writers say, if the writing is too beautiful, it distracts from the story. I will never understand that sentiment. If the writing isn't beautiful, I don't have time for the story. Life is short and its moments meant to be fully lived. I don't want to waste my calories or my reading hours.

So true. Which adds to my glee that the latest Leif Enger book releases April 22nd. Oh the beauty of his words. I can't wait.

[Michelle Pendergrass]

I love the way you think!

And I want your camera.

[Madison Richards]

I read somewhere (and maybe George can confirm this) that under an electron microscope, all vitamins have certain color patterns that don't necessarily relate to the color of the actual vegetable or fruit that is full of that vitamin. Anyway, the bright, fresh, vibrant colors of the fruits and veggies entice us, but what if our bodies actually are craving the colors of the vitamins themselves?

And what if words really gave off colors, and we were drawn to combinations of words because they fed and nourished us on a spirit level?

Sorry, I'm on medication... ;)

[Madison Richards]

Ok, so check this out...(any of you who'd like to join me on medication)

I found electron microscope pics of different vitamins. Pollock and Picasso ain't got nothin' on God!

Dennis Kunkel Microscopy:

http://www.denniskunkel.com/advanced_search_result.php?keyword=Vitamin&x=21&y=4&search_in_description=1

[Nathan Knapp]

Jeanne! What a beautiful post! Thank you. :)

[Jeanne Damoff]

Thanks so much, everyone, for your kinds words!

I'm also looking forward to Enger's book, Mary. I not only love his writing, I applaud the way he ignores conventional wisdom that insists the public will forget about you if you don't crank out two or three books a year. A true literary hero.

Beautiful shots of vitamins, Madison! :)

[laurie of liquid paper]

Great post (and photos) Jeanne. I love the part about the produce manager -- I'll bet those people don't get a lot of recognition for the artistry of their work. It makes me want to lug my camera along the next time I got to the grocery store.

[Heather Goodman]

I had some good conversations this week at the conference about food and cooking as art and about its need for redemption. Frozen dinners are not the same. They never will be.
I believe this, yes I do, but at the same time, I need to work toward it little by little. I've fallen into the trap of easy-schmeesy meals lately in order to spend time on writing.
I've also started gardening, including a veggie/herb/fruit garden. It delights me to see my strawberries developing each day like an image forming on the canvas brush stroke by brush stroke.

[Donna J. Shepherd]

The post AND the pictures - beautiful. Thanks so much for a delightful read.