Boatbuilding on the Aspetuck: an artist’s thoughts about art, aging, and anxiety.

For the readers of this learned journal, please note: I’m not a practicing psychologist; I don’t have a degree in psychiatry; and I’m not an expert in gerontology; but having been up the creek without a paddle a few times, I can draw some conclusions about art, aging, anxiety, and how the Aspetuck figures into this mélange. Let’s start at the start, as my Aunt Minnie used to say. The Aspetuck River wends its way south through Fairfield County in Connecticut. Although it isn’t a mighty river in its own right—the reputations of the Mississippi and the Amazon are hardly at risk—it is a stream with some significance for local residents and for me in particular. I doubt if there was ever any serious ship or even boatbuilding efforts on the Aspetuck itself but, when it joins the Saugatuck River in Westport, the combined waters marked the scene of very active river commerce during the 19th century. So much for the facts. Occasionally the Aspetuck overflows its banks, like some small child acting out. In general, however, it simply goes about its mission, minding its own business and steadily working its way to the sea. It always operates in the present moment, and best of all, it’s inventive: it accepts obstacles on its way downstream, works around them when it can, has the innate wisdom to understand the difference, and just keeps on keeping on. In short, it’s a good example of growing older with grace and dignity—an art form we can all practice and learn from. Art does not reproduce what we see; rather, it makes us see. —Paul Klee