Connection: Great Literature to Great Art

The intricate yet confusing pathways of great literature are sometimes difficult to find our way through. There are twists, curves, and plenty of blurred areas to which the reader might be confused. Not everyone sees things the same way; the way we see the lessons shown are always varied from person to person.

Great artwork is similar. We are not always aware, nor do we understand, what is going on. The artist may have one intention, and the gazer might see a totally opposite concept. Art has different meanings. Sometimes we cannot even comprehend what is going on with a piece of work. "What did the author do? How is this art, it looks like garbage!" But, because we do not understand something, does not disallow us from experiencing the artwork.

When I think of the Jackson Pollock paintings, my mind suddenly sees mixed up combinations of brown, green, and grey. Do I understand exactly what is going on in the paintings? No, not really. Do I want to? Yes, I do. But the question is, what does this painting make me feel? What does the artist want me to feel? If I think hard enough, maybe I will find the answers. Was there hatred behind this? Sadness?

I even asked my art teacher what he thought of Pollock. "What is going on with these paintings?" I questioned, looking for an honest answer. He replied, "There is emotion within these paintings. They allude to certain objects, feelings, places even, but the emotion and how they make us feel is the most important thing."

How can we understand literature and art, when there seems to be so many things going on with them? As we learned in our classroom, if you don't read especially careful, you will miss something. A paragraph swiftly skimmed through; a chapter read to get it over with. When looking at art, you have to regard the picture as if it was a book: very carefully. Books are complex. Art is complex. I have learned that the little details are important.

Maybe the main point isn't to be omniscient. Maybe it is flat out awesome that we don't understand everything. Couldn't you say that not understanding something completely bring on a new, individual perspective? The main point is that the little details make up a bigger picture, and the bigger picture makes us feel things. In my opinion, the more we feel, the better the piece of literature or artwork. Are we going to remember the color shirt a character wore and how it symbolized the hatred he felt for someone? Or are we going to remember how we felt when we learned a character died, or we learned an important lesson? How we viewed the scene, how it made us think, is what matters. The more different we think from each other, the further we expand our horizons of perception.

Sure, its nice to read a effortlessly easy book. Or look at a simple, plain painting. But do we learn anything from them? Do they bring on any powerful, exhilerating feelings? We don't need to remember every single minute, diminutive detail to enjoy a piece of work. We just need to experience and learn from what we see.

Best of Week: Nature vs. Nurture

The best observation from class on Friday was about how Assef had very circular, logical thinking. Personally, I view Assef as a bully and a troubled, uncared for child. But, as I learned throughout our class discussions, there are many more ways of looking at Assef.

Normally, I hate over analyzing books. Examining the characters too thoroughly, or picking out every piece of text that has some, most of the time minuscule, interest to it. But, with the characters in The Kite Runner, I believe you have to do this in order to understand the characters and plot line. On Friday, Roman discussed how maybe Assef wasn't exactly a sociopath. He thinks circularly, and his way was the only correct way. Hassan was a low class hazara, and Assef came from a wealthy family. Therefor, Assef thought he could bully Hassan and get away with it, based on these facts. We learned about this last year in English through fallacies. (Petitio principii, or "assuming the initial point.") With Assef, one thing led to another. Maybe he just didn't understand Hassan and his life. He drew conclusions about a culture based on what he had learned from other people/books/culture, not what he had actually experienced.

Was Hassan a bad person? Did he deserve to be beaten up? Of course not.

This idea made me think about my life. Am I similar to Assef? Do I make a conclusions about things I don't understand completely? And then draw even more, false accusations? After consideration, I have realized I do. I meet a new person, and don't really give them a chance. Maybe they dress differently, and so I assume that they are a weird person. This is something I need to work on, making less accusations. Was I raised like this? To judge, judge, and judge some more?

We make false accusations towards each other so often. Maybe we need to be the judges of our own actions, and not others. The more we judge each other, the more we lose sight of who we are as people. If we don't focus on ourselves, and instead on others, how will we ever become better people?

Change of Mind: The Kite Runner

Being open to new things can be difficult. Why change when things are already perfect? With the start of school, new people and teachers, its imperative you allow yourself to look at things openly.


Last year, I was shy and sluggish, not wanting to do anything. Homework would be assigned two days before it was due, I would be up until 1 o'clock the day before sprinting to finish. I was encouraged to talk in class, but the butterflies in my stomach were fluttering a little too fast for me. I wanted to do well in school, I knew I had to. The parents, the teachers, my younger sister and friends, they all looked at me like I was genius. As if I was programmed to do well, computer-like. Automatically expected to succeed. "I think I failed that test," I would say. My friends would reply, "Sam, I'm sure you did fine, you always do. You always study hard."



But the funny thing was, I probably hadn't. The hours that should have been spent studying were on Facebook. With my friends. Or texting. I had no motivation to cross the threshold into the lands of in depth thinking nor immerse myself into my academics. In the past I had gotten nearly perfect grades, been involved in masses of activities, and actually had a social life. Why was freshman year so different?


It took me a whole summer to understand, but I discovered my laziness occurred because it could. I didn't have to be interested in a subject to do well. I read, understood the storyline, and passed. Throughout the short time I have been reading The Kite Runner, I realized I could take two different routes. The first being the quickest. Read, get it over with, and not learn anything. The second road would be a little more challenging, but worth it in the end. Read with care, enjoy it, and understand the authors lessons and learn from them.


I can relate to Robert Frost's poem, The Road Not Taken.


"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;


Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim

Because it was grassy and wanted wear,

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,



And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I marked the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way

I doubted if I should ever come back.


I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference."



I learned from our discussions of The Kite Runner that you have to read carefully and try to understand things, rather than skipping right past them. You can either attempt or not attempt, and as Robert Frost tells us, the harder, less traveled route is the one that benefits us in the end.

I read the two chapters of The Kite Runner as fast as I could, to get through it and move on to other homework. But after discussing it with our class, I saw all the things I missed. Where was my mind while i was reading? Merely floating along the text, being just another piece of driftwood in the river of paragraphs? How did I fail to notice the beautiful symbolism and detailed metaphors Husseini gives? While we talked about it in class, it shocked me how a quick two pages can give off such an impression. If he can do that in two pages, I can't even imagine how much he will do with the rest of the book.

I have decided I don't want to miss out anymore. I want to care, and I want to know. I desire to be part of the light in our classroom, guiding everyone through the dark, unexplored parts of the texts we read.