Annie Dillard wrote in her essay, “Seeing”, “If we are blinded by darkness, then we are also blinded by light. When too much light falls on everything, a special terror results.”

Reading Dillard’s essay made me think back to an art class I took more than twenty years ago. What I learned in that class still lives in my daily thinking. The instructor was adamant about retraining his students to see what we truly saw before us as opposed to what we thought we saw before us.

For example, when drawing a bowl of mixed fruit, one may be fairly certain what a typical apple’s shape is; but, maybe the apple in that particular bowl of fruit does not look like the average apple. Take a longer look at what is in the light and draw what is truly there, like blemishes or absolute perfection. When a focused effort is made on a subject–analogous to Dillard’s “light,” the reality—like Dillard’s “special terror”—of what is in front of one’s eyes can be exceptionally revealing, even frightful.

That notion was true when it came to sketching what was in plain sight. As an assignment, the class was told to draw what was directly in front of us in the classroom. I saw the back of a “skater boy’s” head. He had a dark mullet for a hairstyle and acne on the back of his neck. That drawing turned out realistic, detailed, and accurate. Drawing one little piece of his head at a time produced a much clearer portrait, down to the correct direction his cowlicks grew and the thin, wavering line of a small scar. Viewing the scar made me wonder how he had cut his head. It made me think deeper into his existence, like if he had been a victim of an act of violence, or “special terror.”

I never talked to that boy, but I still have that drawing stashed away in my box of keepsakes. It serves as a reminder of how to look at what is in front of me with an eye for the small, exposing details.

At the end of the semester, we had a final exam. The class expected a culmination of all that the instructor had hoped to instill in his students. At each pupil’s desk, he placed a black piece of construction paper and a small circle of white lace on top of it. Instead of being asked to draw the lace, the class was asked to draw the black colored pattern behind the lace. I painstakingly drew the black spaces and not the glaring white lace on top. It was amazing to see how accurate the drawing of the lace turned out–or how the cluster of black shapes looked–depending on one’s point of view.

Dillard’s essay is about seeing what is beyond the surface and deeper into what is hidden in the details, much like my art final. I made a “96” on that exam. Yes, I remember the numerical grade all these years later. This teacher graded with high standards and I knew that he did not thoughtlessly hand out “A’s.” I am still proud that I was able to see beyond the overlay of lace and draw the alternative shapes that hid underneath. In art and in everyday living, one can retrain their eyes to not gloss over what they think is apparent, but to instead look deeper into the reality of what is beneath the glaring lace on the surface.