Do remember the moment when you first fell in love with art?
I do.
I would have been around eight years old and my parents took me to the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C.
My Mom had to finally pull me away from the paintings of Claude Monet as I was truly mesmerized, having never seen something that spoke so clearly to my young romantic self. The one who would hide in her oak panelled closet to read for hours, believe in ghosts and create imaginary worlds.
I was still unformed and uninformed.
What I liked was because…well, just that. Chords were struck, simple internal music.
Slowly, I taught myself about painting and sculpture but with it came the pressure of snobbery. “Oh, I can’t possibly enjoy *fill in the blank*.” I would waiver, then abandon. Monet, Erté and Maxfield Parrish to name a few, all deemed entirely too commercial by the New York Citified version of me.
And yet the other evening, it was Mr. Parrish that came to mind as I strolled outside of Les Baux with Remi and Ben. His colors entirely lit the hills on fire without the slightest hint of menace. Or getting burnt. And so his sweet stories of possibility wrapped around me. I let them.
How grateful I am to have doubled back in some way, almost to where I started. To see, to appreciate, to wonder without caring why.
Do you remember your first brush with art? What did it give you?
Wishing you all a very fine weekend…
Loved this, Maywyn. No difference or seperation between you and art.
Oh dear, that must be quite a shock to the system, please stay warm–bundle up in that fluffy looking duvet of yours!
And yes, that absolutely makes sense to me–this opening via art to share–just as we look at the books in someone's apartment to pick up clues as to who they are the first time we visit. The response to this post has truly surprised me to no end nonetheless and has rendered it one of my most treasured. To think that I wasn't going to post it at all because I thought that the photos weren't quite up to snuff. I am so glad that I did.
My memory is terrible so I tend to not give credit enough to all of those pieces of the puzzle. So many have been let go or swallowed up by the ether. I feel as if I have had a nudge here to cherish a bit more. Thank you for that.
Merci, Nat! Hopping over to read it now, hooray!!
My first brush of art actually came in the form of music which I always found strange because I'm such a visual person. Shamefully, I don't have a romantic Monet or art gallery story, mine is the first time I heard the B-52's 'Rock Lobster' at the thrift store Love Saves the Day when I was 6 that I knew I wanted to live a creative adult life. Pop culture is one of my passions and to some it wouldn't be considered art (and I can respect that), but to me it is.
I hope you enjoy a happy, happy new year! I'm sure whatever you and your family have planned for tonight will be lovely and cozy. I do hope you share with us. : )
I've made a special post for you Heather about one of them http://jewelyettofind.blogspot.ca
Dearest heather
Just re-reading all the vibrant responses to your wonderful original post and realizing why so many felt compelled to read and write…….you told us a little more about who you are and in return we shared an intense revelation or two as well. Books and art are easier ways to reveal oneself and talk about identity (and love and regret and inspiration and……all the bits that make a Life) than personal details or persons, come to that…..
Back in nyc! 29decrees. Eek.
My first brush with art gave me time with my grandfather. He had a little studio off the bedroom he shared with my grandmother, and to this day, the smell of oil paints recreates images of that room with its beautiful dark wood furniture, a mexican blanket that I used to take a nap under and still own (sadly, it's full of holes) and just the best man in my life until I met my husband.
So first there was the aroma of paint, and then there was the time he gave me, sitting at our kitchen table where we sketched together. I still have some of his paintings. He died when I was only 11, but he has been a big influence on my interest in art and people who make art. Here's a link to a few artists I have profiled, including our co-commenter, David Terry. http://talkingwriting.com/category/column/talking-art/
Oh, that is amazing!!! Jackie, I am sure that you and Veronique would get along–and have MUCH to chat about! That just makes me so thrilled to hear. And I am so grateful for everyone that leaves messages here or sends emails. I agree they all have their unique character–glad to know that I am not the only one that looks forward to hearing from all of you!!!
That is one of the lovelier compliments I have ever had, Debra. Thank you with all of my heart.
xoxox!
You know, it breaks my heart to think of all of the squished, broken-hearted aspiring artists out there. Those that weren't able to believe that inner voice and to say "well, I am going to do it anyway." Dancers, singers, sculpters, painters, writers, musicians…I could go on. Because who hasn't been told "Oh, you can't *fill in the blank*" at some point or another? The most naturally talented person I have ever met became a fire-fighter like the rest of his family because ballet was something that girls did.