<p>I belong to a strange group on Facebook that I did not seek to join. It features replicas of birds and animals, exquisitely carved in various materials. Beside each sculpture stands its creator, and the caption is always the same. “He is feeling sad because no one appreciate his work.” </p>.<p>While it should be appreciates, not appreciate, this grammatical error is not the reason that I find these posts peculiar. In their photographs, these artists seem anything but ‘sad.’ On the contrary, they beam with pride and joy. I regularly remark on this discrepancy, but there is strong support for the “absolutely amazing”<br />craftsmen. We are probably so eager for appreciation ourselves that we sympathise with those who lack it. “Don’t be sad,” a lady comments kindly. The youngster to whom these words are addressed does not need this advice. Seated astride a recumbent ice horse, he looks remarkably cheerful as he smilingly poses for the camera. </p>.<p>There is nothing wrong with wanting and welcoming appreciation. My fellow writers and contributors to newspapers will agree that we are happy to hear from readers who like what we write. Whenever I congratulate a friend on one of her articles, she exclaims, “Thanks, you made my day!” I am pleased when my pieces are praised. </p>.<p>I wonder how it would be for us, in our different spheres, if nobody ever had a good word to say about anything worthwhile we do. Through the centuries, immensely gifted individuals have experienced such cold neglect.</p>.<p>In fact, many were both disregarded and disparaged. John Keats was pained by harsh reviews of his poetry. Terminally ill at the age of twenty-five, he believed that not only would he never enjoy fame but that he <br />would be forgotten after his death. “Here lies one whose name was writ in water” was the epitaph he coined for himself, to be engraved on his tombstone.</p>.<p>Today, over two hundred years later, Keats’s simple resting place in Rome draws literary pilgrims from around the world. While it would have been wonderful if that great poet had received recognition in his lifetime, we can perhaps learn a lesson from his calm acceptance of the absence of appreciation.</p>
<p>I belong to a strange group on Facebook that I did not seek to join. It features replicas of birds and animals, exquisitely carved in various materials. Beside each sculpture stands its creator, and the caption is always the same. “He is feeling sad because no one appreciate his work.” </p>.<p>While it should be appreciates, not appreciate, this grammatical error is not the reason that I find these posts peculiar. In their photographs, these artists seem anything but ‘sad.’ On the contrary, they beam with pride and joy. I regularly remark on this discrepancy, but there is strong support for the “absolutely amazing”<br />craftsmen. We are probably so eager for appreciation ourselves that we sympathise with those who lack it. “Don’t be sad,” a lady comments kindly. The youngster to whom these words are addressed does not need this advice. Seated astride a recumbent ice horse, he looks remarkably cheerful as he smilingly poses for the camera. </p>.<p>There is nothing wrong with wanting and welcoming appreciation. My fellow writers and contributors to newspapers will agree that we are happy to hear from readers who like what we write. Whenever I congratulate a friend on one of her articles, she exclaims, “Thanks, you made my day!” I am pleased when my pieces are praised. </p>.<p>I wonder how it would be for us, in our different spheres, if nobody ever had a good word to say about anything worthwhile we do. Through the centuries, immensely gifted individuals have experienced such cold neglect.</p>.<p>In fact, many were both disregarded and disparaged. John Keats was pained by harsh reviews of his poetry. Terminally ill at the age of twenty-five, he believed that not only would he never enjoy fame but that he <br />would be forgotten after his death. “Here lies one whose name was writ in water” was the epitaph he coined for himself, to be engraved on his tombstone.</p>.<p>Today, over two hundred years later, Keats’s simple resting place in Rome draws literary pilgrims from around the world. While it would have been wonderful if that great poet had received recognition in his lifetime, we can perhaps learn a lesson from his calm acceptance of the absence of appreciation.</p>