The BOLD (Hopper at the VMFA)
This past weekend, the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts completed an exhibit entitled Edward Hopper and the American Hotel. Hopper is the artist responsible for the painting Nighthawks.
I completed my third visit on Friday with yet another companion. I enjoy going to art exhibits with different people because the art is the same, but the conversation is very different. With my son, the topics are related to history, culture and the broader context of the artist’s time. With my friend Rhiannon, the focus was art—color, line, composition, craft and, vision. With Emilie on Friday, it was a light conversation sparked by the images that meandered through numerous interesting tangents.
On all three visits, I was drawn to a letter that was displayed with other correspondence between the artist and the museum. It contained a beautiful turn of phrase that inspired me to think about boundaries.
The quality of our life and our interactions is determined by the boundaries that we set. The quality of our relationships is determined by how we set and communicate those boundaries.
The Whisper (The Nice No)
A Virginia Museum of Fine Arts recent exhibition, Edward Hopper and the American Hotel, explored the themes of travel and hospitality spaces that appear in Hopper’s work. Numerous paintings offered blue-green glimpses into hotel and boarding house windows where mid-century travelers adapted to the changes automobiles and mobility wrought on culture.
In one room, a low case exhibited numerous letters and program bills. The correspondence highlighted the ongoing relationship between curators at the museum and the artist. The museum had shown his work on several occasions and purchased at least one painting for its collection.
In amongst the other letters was one dated December 21, 1937, addressed to Mr. Thomas Colt. In his elegant scrawl, Hopper wrote the following:
I shall be glad to serve on the jury of the First Biennial Exhibition of the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. If you think I would make a good chairman of the jury, I am willing to try it, but I assure you I have no executive ability whatsoever, and if the chairman’s duties require anything more than counting votes, I will not shine brightly’
I will not shine brightly. Indeed.
Hopper knew the limits of his skills and talents. He knew that his contributions were better made in strokes of the brush than in raps of the gavel.
He also knew that while, as Annie Lamont said, no is a complete sentence, a carefully delivered no has the power to smooth communication and buffer disappointment. His answer was self-aware, elegant and kind.
Wouldn’t you want to avoid the disastrous results of placing someone in a position where they were unlikely to shine brightly? I hope that Mr. Thomas Colt appreciated the gentle, almost playful warning.
Edward Hopper’s letter reveals a three-step process for setting and communicating boundaries:
- Know yourself really well. What work do you love to do and what work would you prefer to avoid? What have you learned about yourself that may apply to new offers and opportunities? How are your skills and abilities best applied?
- Set boundaries. Use your self-knowledge to decide how you want to engage with the world. Know what you will and won’t do. Make a commitment to yourself and to the world to spend as much time as possible in your zone. Then, commit to releasing other work opportunities so that someone else can shine brightly.
- Communicate the mutual benefit of honoring the boundary. Setting and honoring boundaries is not a solo activity. It helps those with whom you interact learn how to treat you, understand how to benefit from what you have to offer and receive the best from you.
What if…
Imagine that difficult conversations could become joyful. Ok, maybe not every difficult conversation. What if, though, you began to consider the best interest and the comfort of others and honored them by only offering the best of you?
What will happen if you follow the example of the artist’s letter?
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