IT'S BEAUTIFUL

We’ve been fortunate to have three exhibitions of impressionist art works here in central Florida in the last few months. I’ve been fortunate to visit all of them. The first was  “Renoir to Chagall: Paris and the Allure of Color” at the Tampa Museum of Art. They didn’t have a catalog for the exhibition so I find myself rather vague about which paintings were there. I believe all of them were from Dixon Gallery and Gardens of Memphis. I had not seen any of these so it was worth going there. 

The second was “Monet to Matisse on the French Coast.” at the Museum of Fine Arts, St. Petersburg. This was the most disappointing exhibit. There was one Monet, “The Customs House at Varengeville,” but I had seen that many time at the Art Institute of Chicago. There were two Renoirs that I had not seen before except in books. The third exhibit was “Monet and American Impressionism” at the Harn Museum of Art in Gainesville. There were lots of interesting works by American artist. This exposed me to quite a number of new paintings and prints. For a lover of impressionism, this has been a good season.

I became interested in impressionism when my father took me to the Art Institute and showed me Seurat’s “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte.” Dad called it the “dot painting” because it is mad of tinny dots of paint laid next to one another. What you see isn’t exactly what’s on the canvas. From a distance (and you need to be at a distance because it is a huge painting) the separate colors merge. It produces a sort of shimmering effect–just what you might have on a warm summer day.

I find the impressionist paintings pleasant to look at. It’s a combination of the subject matter and the technique and the color. I suppose people who teach art appreciation or aesthetics would look down their noses at me for having such unsophisticated reasons for liking something. I just know it makes me feel good to look at these works. Is that such a bad reason for liking them?


I own two contemporary paintings in impressionistic style. (Before anyone sets out to burgle my place, the most I paid for one was $125.) I like to have these pleasing things in my home. There is so much ugliness (both physical and moral) in the world that I value an escape. I go to places where there are beautiful things. I walk in a park almost every morning. I look at building when I walk down streets hoping to find an interesting architectural turn. I read some things just because the language is entrancing. I go to concerts, especially those featuring sacred choir music because they are inspiring in the literal sense of the word–spirit filled. Those things don’t consume all of my life (though I hope to devote a bit more time to them in retirement), but I value them.

Does it make me less a good citizen that I don’t spend all my energy trying to improve life for others? Does it make me a lesser Christian because I don’t spend every waking moment trying to save souls? I don’t think so. Martin Luther played the lute and sang. Albert Schweitzer played the organ. Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote poetry. Madeline L’Engle wrote books for young people.  I don’t see that any of them were lesser persons for pursing what is beautiful. To the contrary, they were better people, maybe better Christians, because of these pursuits. 

I can’t paint or draw. My art teacher said I was a waste of paint. But I can look at what is beautiful. I’ll keep along this path as long as I can.

May the Lord bless you on your journey and greet you on your arrival.

Wayne


Top picture: “La Toilette” by Richard Emil Miller
Center picture:   “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte” by Georges Seurat

ARTLESS

One of my great regrets in life is that I have absolutely no artistic ability. None whatsoever. Zilch. That mess of color above represents my one attempt at oils about 35 years ago. One of my friends looked at the painting and very kindly remarked, "It's hard to paint water." Tell me about it. Needless to say, I gave away my brushes, tubes of paint, etc. The young man I gave them too, Scott, became an artist. Here's a sample of one of his murals.



I was disappointed that some hidden talent didn't emerge from my exploration in oil because I thought it might make a nice hobby in retirement. I recall President Eisenhower did some painting after he left the White House and Winston Churchill did quite a bit when he finished being Prime Minister for the last time. Ha! Who am I to compare myself to Eisenhower and Churchill?

I've never had artistic ability. I think it's a combination of not being able to see things the way an artist does and not having the hand-eye coordination to turn an imagine in my mind into a physical representation. It's doesn't matter what medium I used. I can't draw right with pencils, ink or charcoal. My clay work always came out looking like lumps of dinosaur droppings. Even my pop-sickle stick art in Vacation Bible School was a fright.

I did have one success in fourth grade with tempera on wet paper. I did a pretty nifty vase of flowers. When the teacher looked at it she gave me some advice about adding some yellow on one side, which I did a couple of times. She was quite busy helping other students, so when I brought the painting to her for the third time, she said, "Very nice. Hang it on the wall." This was the first time that ever happened to me. After art class was over, she looked at the paintings on the wall and came to my flowers. "Who did this one?" she asked. I raised my hand. "You!" she exclaimed utterly astonished.

That was my first and last successful bit of art. By eighth grade the art teacher declared I was "a waste of paint" and assigned me to clean up the art supplies after class in return for a passing grade. I wish I could have worked out a deal like that with the mechanical drawing teacher in high school. I passed by the skin of my teeth.

It's a shame that I lack any artistic talent because I enjoy looking at art so much. I have dozens of books, especially on the impressionists, that I pour over. I go to museums and galleries for exhibitions. I even own several original oil paintings and one water color. But creating something myself? No, that is never to be. I don't think about it very much, except a few weeks ago when the newspaper had drawings of school children on the back page. That's when I saw this one by a first-grader, Tianna.



Great, isn't it? I wonder if she would give me lessons? Probably not. Anyway, I'd be afraid to ask. She might tell me I'm a waste of crayons.

May the Lord bless you on your way and greet you on your arrival.

Wayne

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