I love the fine arts, truly. Left to my own devices in a museum I will find a painting that compels me, and I'll simply stare at it for what seems an eternity. Paintings are eternity really.. a moment, in life or fantasy, caught by the eye of the beholder. It's unbelievable really. The truly remarkable works of art aren't just the ones that look pretty, or realistic or even true to life. Some include these, but a really beautiful painting holds more beneath, the best part being that each person who views it will see something different. I mean, it must be a pretty deep question, held in the painting.. 'what should I eat after I leave the museum' isn't exactly the sort of question the painter was probably trying to provoke in you. Or maybe he was.. how am I to know, really.
I decided to find a few examples of paintings, in very different styles, to give a glimpse of what I think about when looking at art. The first painting is 'The Piano Lesson' by Matisse (1916.) Any good art connoisseur will tell you that none of your views on the 'deeper meaning' of a painting can be 'wrong.' Therefore, don't go looking up what the artist was trying to convey in these particular paintings and laugh at me when my view is wrong! That would be just, well, lame. So anyway, to me, this isn't just a young boy practicing the piano. That's too simple. Look closely at the music rack, if you read it backwards it says 'player.' Is this boy playing a player piano? A player piano is, in sorts, a self-playing instrument. Perhaps it was just a brand of piano at the time of the painting, but the way I interpret it is that this boy is merely imitating the playing of a piano, he isn't truly playing. Why is this relevant to me and my life? Well, isn't all art just an imitation of life? While the boy has half a face, the woman in the background has none. Is this woman lost in the world of imitation and art wholly, while the boy is only still learning to immerse himself? The statue and ornate railing seem to show the woman's interest in beauty and art, so perhaps she overlooks happily while her young boy learns to create art himself, despite merely imitating it. This next painting, Donna Con Testa di Rose by Dali' Salvador (1935), makes me think heavily of auditions.
The woman in red, so elegant, and dare I saw almost perfect, with clipboard in hand looking over the woman with pieced garb. It is so real-life to see a person, not as a face and body, but as a collection of very different parts. A black glove, a red pant leg, a loose white garment hanging... all the while she is being grasped by her own fears and inhibitions, personified, as they wear white gloves. Let's not forget the floral bouquet the woman has atop her shoulders. It's beautiful. Without seeing her face, we see she is a beautiful woman, yet we're trapped in the moment of indecision.. what will the woman in red decide for her? Is the woman in red looking for a woman with a black glove, a wider knee, or perhaps a bouquet with less yellow..? We'll never know, just as the floral woman will never. In the distance is a blank figure, waiting. Perhaps he has already seen the woman in red, or perhaps he is next to. Perhaps he is both. Then the chair beside the woman in red.. it is only an illusion. Is the woman in red then also? What of the red matter wrapped around her waist, could it be she has fears herself, but of a different shape? Despite all of the possibilities, one thing is for sure; the floral woman is not the first, nor the last to be seen by the woman in red. There are always others, and always will be. The last painting I've posted is Narciso by Caravaggio (1599.) Is this man truly only narcistic, or is it something else? Somehow, I don't think so. Look at his face. I see awe, curiosity, fear.. Look closely at his reflection. It's not of his youthful face, but instead, one much older. But if the boy were simply repulsed by this reflection, he would not be caught staring into it for all eternity. Even though he can never move from this position on the ground, it doesn't seem as if he ever will.
I think he looks into his reflection so deeply not out of vanity, but out of the eternal quest to know oneself. Who is that he sees staring back at him. It seems to me that this boy is staring at his future. Will he know who and what he is to become, even if it is staring him in the face? Perhaps, But I don't think he does. I don't think he ever will. He will however, immortalized on cavas, stare at his future self for all eternity, yet he will never know what he is to become. I don't believe any of us do. Maybe that's a scary thought, but I try to see it as less menacing. What would we do if we knew what was to become of ourselves? What would make life exciting? How would we look toward tomorrow? What would become of passion?
I decided to find a few examples of paintings, in very different styles, to give a glimpse of what I think about when looking at art. The first painting is 'The Piano Lesson' by Matisse (1916.) Any good art connoisseur will tell you that none of your views on the 'deeper meaning' of a painting can be 'wrong.' Therefore, don't go looking up what the artist was trying to convey in these particular paintings and laugh at me when my view is wrong! That would be just, well, lame. So anyway, to me, this isn't just a young boy practicing the piano. That's too simple. Look closely at the music rack, if you read it backwards it says 'player.' Is this boy playing a player piano? A player piano is, in sorts, a self-playing instrument. Perhaps it was just a brand of piano at the time of the painting, but the way I interpret it is that this boy is merely imitating the playing of a piano, he isn't truly playing. Why is this relevant to me and my life? Well, isn't all art just an imitation of life? While the boy has half a face, the woman in the background has none. Is this woman lost in the world of imitation and art wholly, while the boy is only still learning to immerse himself? The statue and ornate railing seem to show the woman's interest in beauty and art, so perhaps she overlooks happily while her young boy learns to create art himself, despite merely imitating it. This next painting, Donna Con Testa di Rose by Dali' Salvador (1935), makes me think heavily of auditions.
The woman in red, so elegant, and dare I saw almost perfect, with clipboard in hand looking over the woman with pieced garb. It is so real-life to see a person, not as a face and body, but as a collection of very different parts. A black glove, a red pant leg, a loose white garment hanging... all the while she is being grasped by her own fears and inhibitions, personified, as they wear white gloves. Let's not forget the floral bouquet the woman has atop her shoulders. It's beautiful. Without seeing her face, we see she is a beautiful woman, yet we're trapped in the moment of indecision.. what will the woman in red decide for her? Is the woman in red looking for a woman with a black glove, a wider knee, or perhaps a bouquet with less yellow..? We'll never know, just as the floral woman will never. In the distance is a blank figure, waiting. Perhaps he has already seen the woman in red, or perhaps he is next to. Perhaps he is both. Then the chair beside the woman in red.. it is only an illusion. Is the woman in red then also? What of the red matter wrapped around her waist, could it be she has fears herself, but of a different shape? Despite all of the possibilities, one thing is for sure; the floral woman is not the first, nor the last to be seen by the woman in red. There are always others, and always will be. The last painting I've posted is Narciso by Caravaggio (1599.) Is this man truly only narcistic, or is it something else? Somehow, I don't think so. Look at his face. I see awe, curiosity, fear.. Look closely at his reflection. It's not of his youthful face, but instead, one much older. But if the boy were simply repulsed by this reflection, he would not be caught staring into it for all eternity. Even though he can never move from this position on the ground, it doesn't seem as if he ever will.
I think he looks into his reflection so deeply not out of vanity, but out of the eternal quest to know oneself. Who is that he sees staring back at him. It seems to me that this boy is staring at his future. Will he know who and what he is to become, even if it is staring him in the face? Perhaps, But I don't think he does. I don't think he ever will. He will however, immortalized on cavas, stare at his future self for all eternity, yet he will never know what he is to become. I don't believe any of us do. Maybe that's a scary thought, but I try to see it as less menacing. What would we do if we knew what was to become of ourselves? What would make life exciting? How would we look toward tomorrow? What would become of passion?
1 comment:
and you yell at me for not blogging....
tisk tisk.
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