The Accidental Masterpiece

On the first day of school, we were assigned the introduction of The Accidental Masterpiece: the Art of Life and Vice Versa by Michael Kimmelman to read by Friday. I automatically groaned in my head. It's not that I thought it would be bad, as most of the other reading assignments I've been given in STAC have managed to grasp my interest. I was still in that summer funk that having no work to do gives me. Naturally, I put off the reading until two periods before STAC on Friday. I decided early on to underline the things that I found intriguing or compelling, but quickly realized that this was impossible, as almost everything on those six-or-so pages was both intriguing and compelling. I found myself underlining entire paragraphs and even occasionally annotating (yes, annotating!). It was so well written that it was impossible to find a single dull sentence.
By reading, I learned of a great artist who became so captivated with a woman that she was the focus of all of his pieces. I also learned of a dentist whose infatuation with light bulbs led him to leave patients during procedures, just to give tours of his little museum. What I took from these stories is something that I think of every time I look around the STAC room: you can't choose your obsession. Nor can you choose when or how it takes hold of you. People can choose to paint or act or write, but no matter how much you try, you cannot make yourself love it. It simply happens or it doesn't. People might want to be obsessed with art, but nobody in their right mind would choose a fixation on light bulbs. That's why I think that careers in the arts are so noble. An accountant might like math, but it will never dominate his thoughts and feelings the way that writing does for authors. People in the arts don't settle for anything less than what captivates them, while others may wuss out and take the road that they are told they should take. Artists make their own decisions based on their inherent love for art.