HOPE


 
 

Some years ago I was introduced to a painting by a man named Watt.

The painting is entitled Hope. Hope shows a woman playing a harp while seated on top of the world. Her posture would appear at first glance to be all right. What more enviable position could any of us ever hope to be in than being on top of the world with everything and everybody dancing to our music.

Look closer, however, and there you will see the illusion of power gives way to the reality of pain. The world on which this woman sits, our world, is torn by war, destroyed by hate, decimated by despair, and devastated by distrust.

By any artistic evaluation, the painting shows a world on the brink of destruction and, at the same time he titled the painting, Hope. Look closer still for the harpist is sitting in rags, her clothes tattered as though she herself had been a victim of some great war.

When you look closely, you see a bandage on her head with blood beginning to seep through. Scars and cuts are visible on her face, arms and legs, and the harp on which she is playing has all but one of its strings torn, ripped out and dangling down.

Even her instrument has been damaged by what she has been through and she is more the classic example of quiet despair than anything else and yet, at the same time, the artist dared to entitle this painting, Hope.

If, however, when you look at this painting, all you see is despair and desperation, it is because you have only seen the horizontal dimensions and relationships, only how the woman was hooked up with the world on which she sat. Look more closely still and you will see that there is also a vertical relationship. When you look at this painting you will see the war, the hunger, and the distrust but don’t forget to look just above her head.

There above the head of the woman will be some small notes of music moving playfully and joyfully toward heaven. The meaning here is that in spite of being involved in a world devastated by destruction and decimated by disease, in spite of being in a world where famine and greed are uneasy bed partners, in spite of being in a world where nuclear nightmare draws closer with every second; in spite of being on a ticking time bomb with her clothes in rags, her body scared, bruised and bleeding, and her harp all but destroyed except for that one string that was left, the woman still had the ability to hope. (Words of Wisdom from Dr. H. Beecher Hicks) Thank you, Mr. President for HOPE. – C. MeGill Brown


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.