How have I changed? and what it art to me now?
I have always felt as though I could persevere though almost anything. Being through summer camps I was aware of the interpersonal relationships that would develop, but never had I thought that they would affect me this much. We had all been tossed into a sea of unfamiliarity, but I think that drew several of us together. We leaned on each other for support, guidance, and laughter.
I gained self-respect for not allowing the nuisances to become a bother at really important outings. I realize that the moment is all we have, and if some people want to ruin any of those moments their place is not in my moment. That it’s almost worse, for me, to sit by and allow these people to ruin what precious few moments we do have time after time. So I stood up for the moment, and how great it is. Like any self-respecting artist would have, maybe I’ll be one eventually.
I lost the dismal world view I had obtained from constant barrage of terrorist threats from the television set. Living without a television has been bliss. I haven’t even missed it, not that I live for television back home. There are so many interesting museums, pubs, and landmarks, a lifetime wouldn’t be long enough to learn all the history, and visit all of the sites.
I gained a huge appreciation for art’s beginnings. This trip made the experience much more important than just knowing. Having done, seen with my own two eyes, touched in some cases, and spoken with in others is ineffable. I had on an intellectual level, full of knowledge about each one of the artist’s lives, and why they did what when. That changed with the visit to the Tate Modern. So many of those artist’s lives I’d studied. We know so much about them that it got in the way of the experience from the classroom. There’s no way to discuss one’s experience, it just happens.
I gained the knowledge that I can leave the country. I can allow other cultures to exist without wanting to change them, but wanting to understand them.
I lost the narrow view that it’s the artist’s life that is more important than the art. The experience of interacting with the work itself is the most significant characteristic, to spend time with the work. When it’s the art that comes first and the artist’s life reacts accordingly.
Art was a personal expression of the unspeakable. It was something that could be a vocabulary for the mind rather than the mouth. That hasn’t been dismissed over this month, but rather it’s broadened. Accepting all that has happened throughout history of what art is has made me realize that it’s always been undeniably truth of reverence. Weather it’s the relationship of viewer to artist, or religious story telling, or memories before the invention of the camera. The search of some consistent truth seems to be at the core of all artists. Trying to discover what makes our surroundings, what reality really is, what a moment, a line, or a thought brings life to the world. What makes humanity alive? I thought art was something to be understood, learned, disseminated, and discussed. I’ve realized that art is none of those things. It’s meant to be experienced. Like human beings experience a moment in time. It’s not a philosophy, it’s not a text book, it’s not a history, it’s not religion. It’s the combination of all these things, which can only hope to guide us to the experience.
The exhibits I’ve seen over this month are nothing less than experiences. Captivating me from the moment I stepped foot in the door. I was aware of the personality of each artist. Their strokes on the canvas, tool marks on the stone, or hammer indents in the metal all left an impression of their personality. The Raphael room at the V and A overwhelmed me. Was that the art? Is it the work that’s left over, or the impression that is made? Lasting through the years because of the impact of the life of the artist seems to be pretty universal. Weather it’s Frieda or Van Gogh or Pollock the artist’s life seems to be just as important as the art that’s created.
This confuses me more than ever. It’s more than paint on a canvas, capturing that smile, or moment when the waves crash into the rock. It is the conversation between the artist and viewer. It is the moment of reflection. It is a record of history. It is a discussion of philosophy. It is a record of religion. It is whatever we want it to be. Art holds no boundary, it creates. The beautiful works engage, create, wonder, and move through out time.
