Whom do we follow?

Holding onto what we think we know can sometimes find us on unsure footing. Terry, a long-haired Vietnam Veteran from West Virginia was the sharpest shrimp peeler in the West, sometimes peeling 10 at a time with his eyes closed. Every day he wore an old, brown leather belt with “John” carved in it, formerly belonging to his wife’s ex.

Some folks thought Terry deserved his own belt, and just in time for Christmas, they chipped in and bought him the best hand-carved one money could buy with his name handsomely inscribed. Christmas came and went as did the subsequent seasons, and Terry never wore the belt.

The lesson for me was said best by John Lennon, “The more I see, the less I know for sure.” While it seemed that Terry was in need, he liked John’s worn-in and comfortable belt.

I sometimes see similar misunderstandings in the perception of my preferred art style. Abstract Expressionism is a post-World War II art movement in American painting developed in New York in the 1940s as the New York School. It put New York City at the center of the Western art world.

Many purveyors and consumers alike have rejected the nonrepresentational markings and gestural lines. But some have found them exciting and worthwhile. Opening up to something new is refreshing and a formidable endeavor, especially in a world where we consume a lot of what is fed.

The late Robert Motherwell was one of the founders and principal advocates of Abstract Expressionism and was among the artists working in Manhattan. He is credited for coining the term New York School. “I almost never start with an image. I start with a painting idea, an impulse, usually derived from my own world,” he said.

His black and white photo is taped to my handmade easel thoughtfully crafted by my brother about 30 years ago. And when I am stuck in my creating process, I lean into Motherwell’s face as he casually smokes a cigarette and say something like, “Come on, help an old girl out. What should I do here?”

Some other Abstract Expressionists include Motherwell’s wife, Helen Frankenthaler, Jackson Pollock and his wife Lee Krasner, William Baziotes, Grace Hartigan, and one of my favorites — painter and sculptor David Smith who bent metal into wild strands taking us beyond our wildest imaginings.

And while viewers may not recognize anything, they almost always bring something new to the exchange, describing what they see or feel. That guidance and those ideas are what I value the most, even if they are negative.

What we think is valuable can change on a dime. I once put a lot of power in people’s perceptions of me. Seeing a stack of vividly colored vintage suitcases featured in a local thrift store window reminded me of those days.

One Monday morning just after walking through the double doors of my high school, which spilled into a main hallway where everyone gathered, I was jerked into a bad day by my brother who was a popular eleventh-grader. Merely a freshman and trying hard to blend, I had arrived early because I was carrying an ugly flowered suitcase to return to my friend in private.

My brother plotted and schemed and greeted me with “Look at my sister everyone and her flowered suitcase!” Responding quickly, I ran back out and slid on the shiny tiles into a side door only to find that he awaited with the same glaring announcement.

While it was horrible, in hindsight, I thank him for that rite of passage from which came a “who cares” attitude, because nobody really did. When we find our minds are guided and influenced by others, it is helpful to ask “why.” Things aren’t always as they seem and sometimes deserve a closer look.

Working on discovery; and that is all.

Published in “The Herald.”