“Slow down you crazy child…”
Billy Joel’s raspy voice breaks into the piano riff.
“When will you realize,” piano riff again, “Vienna waits for you?”
The song has been playing on repeat in my head almost all of January 2026. Billy Joel’s iconic voice and piano hands are catchy. But also, I really like slowing down. Slowing down to think, ponder and wonder. Slowing down to consider truth and consider others. Slowing down to enjoy.
And apparently, I also like being called a crazy child. Because somedays it feels true. I should be the last person to write about slowing down, for the sake of avoiding hypocrisy. My schedule as a nursing major is tight, my answer to “how are you?” is more often “busy” than not, and “no” is the hardest word to articulate so I’m always down to watch a movie when invited, if I can. Maybe you relate, maybe you don’t. But even if you’re not like me, you probably can resonate with the feeling that your phone seems to suck all of your time and energy. Because that’s what screens do.
Today I went to Union University’s pottery art exhibit and the student’s art exhibit in the PAC. I set an alarm for 9:50 a.m. so I could be technology free but make it to chapel in time. The white walls, soft lights and everyday colors of the first exhibit were soothing after my stressful early morning microbiology test. Silence and stillness, no one else in the room. It was serene.
I peered at the pottery shapes and colors: mugs, vases, bowls, plates, cookie jars, orange stripes, green squares, blue stripes, yellow squares, grey glaze and spots of intentionally unglazed pottery. Professionally molded, glazed and painted, these artifacts will probably last much longer than my bones will in the grave.
Taking the still art in, thoughts began to surface, and I jotted down the streams of thought as they came. First, I thought about the Bible story about the little oil in the jug, and God how keeps it from running dry to show that He is God and He is good. Then I began to wonder what kind of coffee and tea will be drunk from the mugs, what kind of flowers I would want to fill the vases with, what kind of cookies would be stored in the cookie jars. Preferably chocolate chip. The art exhibit is titled “Day to Day,” and I begin to see why.
There was a purple pitcher I could imagine in my own home with flowers askew in it.
“What time is it?” I wondered to myself. I could feel my phone in my pocket. Not my alarm, my phone. And I resisted the urge to check my phone for the time, until I realize I can’t remember if my ringer is on. I checked my phone, turned the ringer on and rested easy again.
I walked across the hallway to the student’s art gallery. There’s a white sheep perched on “an organic” pillar, sitting on a yellow shroud. The artist is Reid Pike, and the description said the sheep is face level and exposed but at rest because it’s held. Beside it is a pink dress, pearly and lacey, on a bust, inspired by the artist Raine Fluet’s sister. I wondered what Raine’s sister is like. Does she like pink and pearls and lace?
To the left of the statues, a black and white sketch depicted chaos. The headless angel drew me in, but the mostly eaten apple lying in the foreground keeps my interest. An iris in a vase is chaotically revered by a figure in the background. A depiction of the Fall, it seems, because after three minutes of staring, a light sketch of a dragon becomes clear in the background. And in his wings, the sun shines like a ball of fire. The thrill of discovery filled me with a small piece of satisfaction, but the enigma of remaining questions about the art left me wondering and pondering. Food for thought, perhaps.
Billy Joel’s raspy voice screams its way back into my head.
“Don’t you know only fools are satisfied?”
Still art may not be slapstick comedy, leaving viewers rolling on the floor in laughter. It may not be full screen cinema, visually drawing us into life-like dreams. It’s easy to not let it draw us in. But maybe we’re all fools who need to go venture into Vienna, because it’s waiting for us. The handcrafted pottery took time and skillful hands, and it made me think about how lovely it is to eat and drink together. The sheep drew me into its ease of being held.
Before I left the exhibit today, I wrote a small bucket list out for the month of February.
- Spend at least 45 minutes a week with still art (book, art, etc.)
- Keep a journal
As I join students across campus this month for the Digital Fast with ResLife, it seems like a perfect time to start cutting out time to enjoy art. Maybe the word “no” will be more appealing in my schedule as I learn the joy of seeking to find the beauty in art.
“You got so much to do and only so many hours in a day,” Billy Joel’s song continues to play on the sound system in my head.
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