I Believe ...
Welcome to that last gallery of the museum. In what ways do you now see the American experience? What lens do you look through? On your way out of the museum, we encourage you to write what you believe about the American experience on our survey offered at the front desk. For those who dont know where to begin, the museum as provided an example and how we see the American experience.
The American Visionary Art Museum believes that the right to choose how we see the world is vital to the American Experience. Although we are constantly changing through conflict with ourselves and society, we have the right to chose how we perceive the American Experience. It can be something beautiful, enduring, and beyond all challenge and ruin, or stagnant, tragic, and phony. One can chose to embrace the “new” as wonderful or sour, yet one must change their lens in order to continue forward.
I believe in hotdog soup. I don’t mean thick tomato with a drooping meat poll in it. I mean the stuff my mom made for me when I was little: green split lentils with bits of roasted hotdog and vegetable. She would even sprinkle cheese on it, and surprisingly, it was the best part. To many, hotdog, lentil, and cheese sound like a disgusting combination. Sure it’s different, strange, and unique, but is that an acceptable excuse to push away the plate?
Why can’t being “weird” be good?
Whenever I brought the leftovers to school for lunch, I would get strange looks from the other students, as the soup only confirmed I was a “weirdo.” My curly hair, loud voice, and my sharp tongue didn’t help, and like many other Americans, I was lost in self-doubt. I tried for three years to stop being “weird”, but I could never conform to the morals and thoughts of my peers. I thought “weird” must be bad, refusing to acknowledge that like my mother’s soup, I was good on the inside. But why can’t being a “weird” be good?
For those who have seen the contraption, it looks fairly unappealing. Only the one’s willing to taste it know how delicious it is. Just because it is different, the soup is often reserved for my family members and is rarely ever given to guests of friends. But why can’t being “weird” be good?
On the playground, I spent my recess walking alone around the jungle gym. I had already been labeled “different” by my peers, and in a society of 3rd graders, “different” was flat out wrong. As I grew older my role as a social outcast never changed, yet the way I saw the world around me did. Instead of asking myself “why am I weird?” , I asked “why can’t they realize weird is good?”
I always thought my taste was sour because no one bothered to take a bite, but like hotdog soup, I am reserved for those who love me for my weird insides. You cannot change judgment, but you can change the way you judge yourself. The way someone perceives the soup will determine whether or not they will take the next step and try it. For those who change their lens and step towards the future, life is delicious. After all, it’s those who are different that add excitement, mystery, and adventure into life’s meal. This I believe.
This belief is exemlified through the sample below