Most people consider ambiguity as one of the simplest causes of stress.
And I'm one of them.
But there are times when ambiguity goes away and its absence doesn't generate the satisfaction one expected.
When I was a teenager (more than a few years ago) a print hanging in our doctor's waiting room always captured my attention on treatment visits.
It wasn't a large print - maybe 12" tall by about 10" wide, in a dark brown frame.
It hung a little higher than would have been best for me, but the more I went to see the doctor the more it stirred my soul.
I would dream about it when I got home, wondering, wondering..
..
The painting was called "A Fallen Idol" by the Honorable John Collier 1850 - 1934.
It shows a woman on her knees resting with her head down on the foreleg of (presumably) her husband who is sitting at his desk with a somewhat vacant look on his face.
I loved the ambiguity of this picture, the title being so evocative.
And the brilliance of the artist to keep his own feelings neutral and innocent.
ButI kept wondering...
Who is the fallen idol? Did the husband stray or embezzle his business so that his wife is weeping in dismay at his revelation, or has she broken down and confessed to an affair or some other sin? If one interprets the man's look as stunned or disbelieving, one suspects the woman has 'fallen'.
If one interprets the man's look as 'matter of fact' one suspects he has fallen.
And maybe any viewer's interpretation depends on that viewer's own guilt feelings or experience in life episodes.
Over the years my assessment waned to and fro.
The man had just told his wife he'd been fired from his job.
She was sobbing in disbelief knowing how hard it would be to find another one.
Next visit it was she instead who told him she had loaned her sister a large amount of money from their bank account and just learned it was never to be seen again.
He was staring into vacant space not knowing what to say.
Anger was checked by incomprehension of his wife's behavior.
At each visit my mind would try to conjure up a new imaginative reason 'explaining' who had 'fallen' and why.
Eventually we moved away, and the doctor, who had become a family friend, gave me the picture as a farewell gift.
Unfortunately somewhere along life's ways it and I parted company, but over time my view eventually stabilized and held that the probability was 95% that the husband was the fallen idol, not the wife.
The picture showed him thunderstruck at his undoing and unable to know what more to say.
He had failed himself and his wife and couldn't even comfort her.
Years and years later with the advent of the Internet I found that the original 5'6" x 4'6" painting now hangs in the Auckland Art Gallery.
And with a little more research I actually learned the artist's personal view of his work.
When the original painting was on show at the Royal Academy Exhibition in London, many attendees also wondered just which person was the fallen idol.
On 29 July 1913, The Times published a letter sent by the artist which read: 'Dear Sir: - The weeping woman is the fallen idol.
It is a young wife confessing to her middle-aged husband.
The husband is evidently a studious man, and has possibly neglected her.
At any rate, the first thought that occurs to him is "Was it my fault?" I imagine he will forgive his wife.
- Yours faithfully, JOHN COLLIER'.
Immediately I read that letter I wished I hadn't.
Not because I was wrong in my supposition, but because I suddenly realized that what I really liked about the painting was its innocence and ambiguity.
Unfortunately now, forever ruined..
..
No more dreams, imagination stifled, no more wondering.
The lesson I learned? Some days one simply gets too much information.