The Painting of the Fish

A Story by S4MFrost

When was the last time you visited a museum?

Art isn’t made to convey a message. A painting of a fish isn’t there to teach you some intimate lesson about being yourself or doing what’s right no matter what. The sentiments behind the painting don’t matter. People are too caught up in their own philosophies and beliefs to be influenced by a piece of canvas. What matters is that you’re looking at it right now, so all parties responsible for getting that art where it is have accomplished their missions. The artist sold it to the museum, the museum charged you admission and maybe you’ll buy a postcard in the gift shop on your way out. The money’s in their pockets.

And then there’s you.

What have you gained from this? You might feel intellectually stimulated by the masterpiece. That fish swimming in a pond had a special meaning to you, perhaps. It’s a statement about overfishing, and you’re certain of it. The fish is all alone. It’s going to swim in circles in that puddle until it dies without a mate because people won’t give up their tuna salad and grilled halibut. It’s both terrible and beautiful, you think.

It’s stupid. You think it’s about overfishing and the environment because you were thinking about overfishing. You were already thinking it. The guy who just walked past, talking on his cell phone, just glanced at it and kept walking. You saw him. His dumb cowboy hat and chaps almost made you laugh, but you’re too polite, bless your soul. Do you think he, in that distracted split-second, understood a message about preserving the fish population? You bet he didn’t.

You may think you’re a connoisseur. A patron of the arts, in fact. You saw the meaning of the painting because you recognized the swirling brushstrokes that make the water look like it’s rippling as you watch it. You have a higher appreciation for the artist’s internal emotional tempest that allowed this piece of work to be created. If everyone had the same fine taste as you, the world would be a better place and artists would get the proper respect and wars would cease and hunger would cease and everyone would be happy.

On second thought, you think, this painting must be a social commentary about the evils of big industry. You can see the reflections of churning smokestacks on the surface of the pond, and there’s ash in the grass surrounding the pond. You thought it was frost before, but now it all makes sense. The artist thought that nature was being pushed off of the planet by a burgeoning capitalist society and spoke out.
You think you’re a hotshot. How could you know what the artist was thinking? Did you ask him? Were you there when he poured his soul onto the canvas, one stroke at a time? You are one self-centered “patron-of-the-arts.” You were already thinking it. All the other visitors in the museum didn’t see what you saw. They might have interpreted it as an ad campaign for a pizza parlor, for all it matters. You will make the painting mean whatever you want it to mean.

Besides, it’s not up to you to figure out what the painting means. It’s your job to pay the museum that paid the artist, trick yourself into thinking you’re a better person for it and move on. You’re probably holding up gallery traffic, just staring and dissecting this one piece like you own it. What's the point? You're no critic.

You could just continue walking and examine the painting of a basketball with a rainbow wig and a red rubber nose. I’m sure you’ll analyze the poor thing to shreds just like you did to the fish in the pond. That fish that keeps swimming, the moonlight reflecting off of its scales like it’s become a part of the pond itself. Judging by the color of the reflected sky, you estimate the time to be about four-thirty in the morning. The sun is just about to rise.
It dawns on you that the painting takes all those things into account; the overfishing, nature’s dwindling, pollution and government. Despite all of those things, the fish keeps swimming by itself in the pond and the sun rises anyway. All this time, you thought the artist was a depressed cynic, but now you realize he was implying something entirely different. Yes, there's pollution and overfishing and countless horrible things, but the artist knew that life goes on anyway.
No, you think. We went over this. The painting is just a tool for a poor, attention-hungry man to earn a little cash and feed his ego. The fish in the painting is just a fish. No, less than that. It’s some pigments spread on a canvas in the shape of a fish. The fish and the chimneys and the breaking dawn don’t exist at all. The painting didn’t teach you about the messed up world or the fact that life will continue unhindered.
You were already thinking it.