Dearest autumn,
You’ve arrived once again, although you’ve made me wait an awfully long time this year. You seem content to torture me with thirty-degree weather in October. But the leaves have finally turned a crisp ochre, and with this comes the breaths of cozy inspiration. All around, artists and audiences alike snuggle up with their blankets to descend into the crackling fireplace of imagination and creativity.
A classic fall pastime for coffee lovers involves sipping from warm mugs while rewatching their favourite 2000s sitcoms. The familiar bond between those in their twenties and their 40-minute episode, seven-season TV show is unmistakable. Gilmore Girls is my personal favourite, combining slice-of-life realness with a tinge of whimsy and the wittiest dialogue. Lorelai Gilmore (Lauren Graham) is a sparkling character who epitomizes fall vibes. Watching Rory Gilmore (Alexis Bledel) consistently make poor decisions throughout her early life crisis makes me want to rip out my hair—or hers. But there’s a certain comfort in knowing that no matter how off-kilter my day is going, Rory’s is going worse. This frustration and endearment alongside a steaming teacup is quintessentially autumn.
You, autumn, encourage everyone to slow down. Books are suddenly magical again, and a windy bite at one’s nose incites a desire to hide under the covers with a silly little fantasy novel. My personal recommendation this season is Rebecca Ross’s Divine Rivals. It is not often that I find a story with a plot that feels entirely new, but Ross achieves this, weaving together a perplexing and animated world that I couldn’t escape from. She charts the story of two young journalists competing for the role of columnist. Both share a fiery determination and darkened pasts, kept close and secret. As war rages on, the question emerges: What should we really be commenting on? Connected through magic typewriters, the two form an unlikely bond under precious aliases, becoming each others’ dearest confidants. Ross creates a whirl of warm love, sweet misgivings, and moral conundrum all in one. It’s perfectly paired with the pumpkin spice treat of choice, and the soft patter of rain.
Autumn, despite the wonderful inspiration you are for writers, artists, creators, in addition to the atmosphere you create for art-lovers to immerse themselves in their passions, you are art in and of yourself. Stepping outside on an autumn day holds nearly inexplicable magic, but I shall do my best. It is a sensory exhibit of wonder: The crunch of bright leaves under my soles, the symphony of rustling above me, the slightly sweet, nutty smell in the air. It is art created by no one at all, but shared by everyone. Every leaf is a painting that changes from moment to moment: Sage, to copper, to bursts of sunset and teddy brown. Innocent kids, barely two feet tall, collect them, press them into books; they notice the art, even if growing up will make them forget. The clouds dance with the sun in autumn, light rays slanting through the cottony fluff and painting the world in vivid colours.
Spring and summer may always hold the popular vote. But I will always love the slight inconvenience of a chill seeping through the knit of sweaters, of the wind tousling perfectly placed hair. There is dramatic art in the playful flair of autumn. Autumn flirts with everyone, like they’re the audience of an interactive play. You demand their attention, grasping them out of whatever self-centred haze they may be trapped in. We become a shared audience for autumn, united in the common experience of red-tipped ears and runny noses.
Art and autumn go hand in hand. These months will pass by so quickly with the blur of midterms and travels home. But for a moment, even just a breath, try to find a piece of art this fall, in the blur of your train ride window or the stray leaf dancing across your textbook.
Take a moment and notice it. We’ve worked very hard.
Love,
Art
