The Drawings

Once, when I was six years old, I saw a wonderful picture in a book about the natural world. It was a picture of a boa constrictor swallowing an animal. In the book it said: "Boa constrictors swallow their prey whole, without chewing it. After that they cannot move, and they sleep for six months while they digest their food."

I thought deeply about the adventures of the jungle. Then I made my first drawing — Drawing Number One. It looked like a hat.

I showed it to the grown-ups and asked if it frightened them. They answered: "Frighten? Why should anyone be frightened by a hat?"

My drawing was not a hat. It was a boa constrictor that had swallowed an elephant. But since the grown-ups could not understand it, I made another drawing: I drew the inside of the boa constrictor, so the grown-ups could see it clearly. They always need to have things explained.

The grown-ups told me to put aside my drawings of boa constrictors and study geography, history, arithmetic, and grammar instead. So at the age of six I gave up what might have been a wonderful career as a painter.

I chose another profession and learned to fly planes. Whenever I met someone who seemed intelligent, I showed them Drawing Number One. I wanted to find out if they were a person of true understanding. But every time, they said: "That is a hat." Then I would not talk to them about boa constrictors or forests or stars. I would bring myself down to their level and talk about golf, and politics, and neckties. And the grown-up would be very pleased to have met such a sensible man.