The ‘Goldfish in a Plastic Bag’ Story
In grade 5, our class had a fish tank and a small school of goldfish. At the end of the year, the teacher held a raffle and sent a fish home with each winner. Driving home on the bus, I had the silly notion to hold the poor fish up to the window to look outside and realized the fish had no idea what was going on. This lead to a rush of existential thoughts, like ‘maybe I’m just a fish in a bag in the hand of some bigger more complicated being’, ‘maybe we are all just fish in a bag, only understanding a small fraction of what was really going on around us’. Then, realizing nobody else on the bus knew I was having this profound brainstorm, I remember recognizing just how separate we were from each other. Understanding that nobody could ever truly know what I was thinking or feeling and that I could never know what anybody else was thinking either. This is the first time I remember bumping into the absolute weirdness of the human condition.
This was kind of a big moment for me. I remember where the bus was, where I was sitting on the bus, and the quality of the light on the nearby trees. The irony, of course, is that the separateness that I discovered that day is the same reason that I don’t know if you are nodding your head in understanding or being utterly confused. In addition to the separateness, is a yearning to overcome it, to reach across the gap and connect with others. This second part is, I think, a major part of what motivates me as an artist. Painting is a way for me to make a tangible record of my experience. ‘I experienced this and it moved me.’
Sometimes, I think that was the most important thing I learned in the entire 5th grade. Other times, I wonder if my teacher asked any of us kids if we had fish tanks before she sent those poor fish home with us.
~JW
