Sunday Scribblings ..... Art

This week's prompt from Sunday Scribblings is a little word, and a tall order... gather together and articulate something in writing about art. That's Art. Or is is art? The capital letter makes a difference. Julia Cameron made the point very well in The Artist's Way. When we think of Art with a capital A, it's important, serious, something that Professional or Trained or Talented Artists do. People who are "not like me", in other words. The world is full of people who are utterly convinced that they "can't" draw, paint or make other art, and what they really mean when they say things like that is that they can't do it as well as "Those other people... Real Artists", and what that really, really means (in part) is not that they can't, but that they feel they can't, and because they feel they can't they aren't going to try, because that's pointless, because they can't. There are a multitude of books out there that can help people get over that block, through that thinking, and into making the kind of art they will enjoy, the kind of art that's not meant to be judged against anything else, that is art for its own sake - but that will sometimes turn out surprisingly to be more than you'd expected to be able to produce. I just love the attitude Julia Cameron encourages - one of "gentle exploration", as in, if I just start playing around with these coloured pencils, and enjoy doodling with them, and let myself not have expectations as to outcome, what might happen?...

I will always suggest The Artist's Way first to anyone who has the urge towards making art, but I recognise that it doesn't suit everyone. Well, then, there's Eric Maisel's many books. I was fascinated by what happened when I started following Betty Edward's "Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain". The exercises there had me drawing in ways I never had before. Not perfectly, by anyone's standards, but joyously, happily. There's a website here called Everyone Can Draw.

Sunday Scribblings is a strange thing. I didn't intend to write in that vein at all when I began. I just wandered into it. I intended to write a bit about what other people's art does for me. And maybe I didn't go in that direction because so often I find myself speechless and filled with responses for which there are no words when I meet art. - "Real" art, as in galleries and museums. I have been so lucky, so blessed in being able to meet the work of artists that touch me deeply, that delight me or move me, and I'm not sure how to fit it all in here. So I'll just stay with the most recent things that have touched me.

In Buenos Aires, during my Christmas visit to my son, coming into the Museo de Belles Artes, the first object to catch my eye was Rodin's The Kiss. Familiar from pictures, and yet a whole new experience to come upon it "in the flesh".

I loved that museum. There were European artists a-plenty there, modern and classical. Rich bounty of art. And then, the South American artists, many of whom I'd never encountered before. This one took my breath away, in part because the image echoed a dream I'd had around the time of my mother's death - the black egg: This is by Leonor Fini.

Close by, I encountered this:

The artist is called Varo, and it's entitled "Feeding Stars to the Moon" or Celestial Pablum. I laughed aloud. The idea!

I'm sorry.... These are snippets, mere glances, of a few hours of abundance, riches, beyond anything I can really describe. I wasn't very good at recording names and dates. (OK... I wasn't good at all... I didn't do it). I came away with impressions, memories... full, sated. Aaaah!



And then... within a few days of that experience, I found myself doing two things I'd long wished for... Visiting MOMA in New York, and seeing an exhibition of some of Van Gogh's major paintings, including two Starry Nights. It just happened. My layover on the way home was long enough for a trip into the city, and I got in a taxi and asked to be taken to the Museum of Modern Art. That's the only place I visited. I just got so lucky that the Van Gogh exhibit, Van Gogh and the Colors of the Night, was still running. It was closing 3 days later. I just walked through there soaking those paintings up. That was where I missed having someone with me, someone to share the experience, so I just enthused to whatever stranger happened to be nearby instead. Well... I'd have burst if I didn't! All around me, I could hear people making their comments, and there were plenty of really well-trained eyes there, obviously. Parents educated their children about the technicalities of the techniques he used, urged them to observe the effect of this or that. I just loved hearing all the intakes of breath, the murmurs of "amazing..."



I needed air, space, a little quiet time to bring myself back from that place, and readiness to go back onto the street, back into traffic and "reality", and the perfect bridge was a turn around MOMA's sculpture garden. A wonder in itself, containing wonders. [You can see how inarticulate I get in the face of art, can't you?!]

I came home with a sense of having been blessed in so many ways. Blessed with good fortune.

This post has become way, way too long. I was going to write about and post some photos of what local primary-school children did as an installation in celebration of the sweets (candy) made at a local factory, but I've discovered that there's a lovely description on one of the school's websites HERE... The Sweet Fantastic. Enjoy!
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This post is in celebration of Art as prompted by Sunday Scribblings. Go HERE to see what others have offered!
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Also, I'm participating in One World, One Heart again this year. Here's the post with my giveaway, if you'd like to take part. There's still time... Any comments up to midnight (GMT) 11th February will be included.