What is art?
The earth is full of beauty. It is bursting at its seams. It is crying to be seen. Why do you think there are so many Instagram posts of sunsets, babies, a cup of coffee or a stray leaf?
Just one scene has so many facets of beauty, it would be impossible to capture them all. The dying leaves off my back porch are brilliantly yellow as the sun catches them this fall afternoon. This morning, they were shrouded in mist, which obscured the distant hills, and this evening they will turn warm as everything is kissed during the golden hour. And that’s just what I see with one tree, on one day. I did not even mention the birds that make that tree their home, or my tiny daughter nursing and grunting as I look out my window. I did not mention the countless other things that call for my attention, begging to be captured, to be portrayed as art.
So how do we decide what will be captured on paper? Or on a camera roll? Or in our memories only? What is art?
Recently, I have been enamored by the journey of motherhood. As my little one breathes against me in sleep, and my toddler naps in the other room, as I type, this is my stage of life. Of course I see beauty here. I have explored this journey in recent paintings – capturing kisses, embraces, and rest. But what about the “other?” The pain of pregnancy, the heartbreak of loss, the ache of worry (and the hard choice of trust), and the tiredness and dirtiness of daily life. Is that not beauty as well? Are those moments as worthy of portraying as the moments of peace?
If contrast makes a composition pop, then dark is as important as light. I have a friend who writes horror novels. I do not enjoy being afraid or imagining dark things, so I have not read his work. However, he sees incredible beauty and redemption here, and horror brings him to a place of wonder. I do not pretend to understand this, but it is a true form of art. I honestly do not remember the storyline of Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls, (I read it in high school), but I remember darkness and beauty interwoven together as with all classics. The best movies have a bit of pain as well as joy. So, how to depict all of this in an image, on a flat piece of paper? And what if I'm truly in a happy season of life?
What SHOULD be created? When something takes my breath away with the truest beauty, I simultaneously want to share it with the world, and to hide it away in my heart alone. My husband’s love for me has wrecked my heart and mind lately. There are moments I want to paint to show the beauty of unity, the healing power of a kind man, and the power of trust. But it that appropriate?
These are questions I am honestly chewing on. I do not have a neat answer at the end of this post. I do know that a few of my favorite pieces were painted either in a place of grief, or choosing to hope in GOOD in hard situations. See "Seed," "Forever Friends," and "Out of that Domain."
Welcome to my journey. I'd love to hear yours.
"Seed." 2015. Watercolor on paper