I have to wear glasses these days. I have a pair for reading and a pair for, well, everything else. And I’m not too thrilled about it. Up until just a few years ago, I had perfect vision, which made me the ideal co-pilot on a trip or partner on a shopping expedition. Want me to check your receipt? Got it. Read a map or a menu, spot a sale sign? Sure! Fine print? No problem. Others would struggle with their bifocals or their contact lenses, but not I. Don’t you see that sunset over there, that amazing blue? What do you mean, no? My God, don’t you know what you’re missing?

Now I’m the one struggling. I recently changed the appearance of type on my computer screen to a larger, more legible font. I got a new cell phone with a nice big display. My keys to the house and car are color coded and labels on everything in the house are nice and big and easy to read. But with all else, I need new equipment to navigate what has become complicated: paying bills, checking the ingredients in a recipe, making sure I have the right credit card, reading the directions on a new acrylic medium or even last week’s handwritten studio notes. I now have to be careful I’m taking my vitamins and not my husband’s Lipitor. I even have to check myself twice when picking up a greeting card. One of the most embarrassing incidents involved my sending a Confirmation instead of a First Communion card to my young niece a couple of years ago. My sister in law and I had a long scary moment where we were both afraid I was becoming my mother.

I have never taken my eyesight for granted, mind you, even as a kid I’d known what a gift it is to see. This was what made me an artist in the first place. In early childhood I was this curious little girl who would stare at the pattern in the couch fabric, run my hands over and over a crewel work pillow, caress a lawn statue or look up at the stained glass in church. I might have been reprimanded for dawdling too long, not listening when being spoken to. On some level I was trying to understand what I was seeing and feeling. And as soon as I could pick up a pencil or pen I began to draw. And yes, I sometimes got in trouble for that, too. But I couldn’t stop the creative urge. Everything in my world was eye candy and I had to taste it.

My eyes are the means with which I absorb and filter my experiences that ultimately find their way into my work. They also are how I self edit. Seeing well enables me to look critically at a canvas or a drawing, to spot the place that needs more definition, more of a certain color or extra shading. I instantly knew where an etching plate needed a deeper bite and I always recognized where a print was out of register. I could spot an incorrectly cut mat a mile away. I was so good that when hanging anything on the wall at home, my husband relied more on my eye than his laser level. I was that precise and confident. Not so now.

I really hate this fumbling, this not being so sure anymore. It aggravates me that I have to have several pairs of reading glasses all over the house and that of course when I need one of those pairs, I’m often in the wrong room. I make a lot more mistakes. I often buy the wrong type of coffee, the wrong dog food. Yet there are gifts in this too. For one, I don’t notice the dust on the bookshelves or the unwashed windows because I just don’t see them. My yard, my world, it all seems much more orderly than it ever has before. I’m actually relieved of perfection, of my long held belief that I ever held such power. I’ve begun to truly appreciate what I can’t control and to enjoy the missteps. Experimentation in my work comes a lot easier, too, and I judge far less than I used to. Eyes that used to be so critically precise have become gentle and accepting.

And as a result, my art-making is changing. It’s been a while now since I abandoned realism and turned towards an expressive representation. I rely on intuition and a feel rather than what I expect my work to look like. I refer very rarely to sketches or studies so there isn’t as much to guide me. And maybe this makes the results more genuine, more sincere. It’s a much harder process now yet the work is exciting and incredibly rewarding like never before, in a way I could never have expected. However, I still wouldn’t give up my eyesight if told in exchange I’d be a greater artist. Sure I can appreciate the upside. But I’m a reluctant Four Eyes and I always will be.

It’s not the glasses themselves that bother me. I don’t look so bad in glasses. If anything, they make me look like I’m always paying attention, more awake even if I didn’t sleep the night before. I think they make me appear smarter, wiser, less the silly romantic, impulsive and impractical person I really am. I’m fine with them as a bit of camouflage or as a fashion accessory. I mean, they don’t hurt and they come in handy when it’s windy outside. So it’s not for vanity that I whine now. No, I’m just crazy terrified of one day not seeing at all, when glasses are the least of my problems. But I am working on the self pity and doing my best to focus instead on my blessings. And there are many. At least with those, I merely think of them and I become happy. I don’t need to see everything.

Copyright 2009 Ann Haaland