A Garden Rock and the Importance of the Artist

Last Saturday morning, I spent quiet time on the patio in the company of my cats, my cup of coffee and my sketchbook; and I put those idle moments to some kind of use by drawing a portrait of this rock.
...During that brief sitting I came to know that this rock is a rock like no other rock. See how he sits so unpretentiously in the small plot of dirt that is his domain! See how his friends-- also rocks-- gather around, drawn to him by the natural feelings of admiration that a rock such as he may inspire.
... How often do characters worthy of mention go unmentioned? This is the importance of the artist. Without the eye, without the sensitivity, without the heightened perceptive abilities cultivated by the artist, so many things pass without celebration; so many things pass without notice.
...This rock, despite his sturdy significance in the small community of which he is-- well, the rock-- he might simply have gone on, silently, receiving no recognition for his calm, for his dignity. This is the first time, I am sure, he is praised in so public a forum. This is the first time, I am sure, his portrait has been drawn.
...I take pride in my part in this. Now, his likeness and his story are presented in this age's arena of stories and images, the internet. Judging by recent traffic, perhaps as many as ten people will know of this rock; they will see his portrait and learn of his dignity. Perhaps these visitors will be compelled to seek and to find, in their garden, a rock of such character. Perhaps they will take a moment to appreciate and to praise something of seeming commonness which they can, with an unwieldy aesthetic construct, elevate to a proper state of grandness.
...(It took me all day to write this. Much longer than it took to draw the stupid rock.)
...Pencil sketch, colored in photoshop.

The End.
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