Art, Art, Everywhere
I have a friend with multiple degrees in art. Years ago, as I remember, he told me his theoretical and working definition of art is that it must be composed of line drawing – be that the entire composition, or a major part of the work, or just some portion with line drawing, I’m not entirely sure – but whatever this definition of art actually encompassed, he seemed very adamant that it was correct.
And I, with only one undergraduate year of art history, was gentle, but just as adamant in asserting that art, as a creation of the individual mind and soul with its endless multiplicity of forms, themes, and functions, cannot arbitrarily be defined or delimited by one factor or dimension. I also further asserted at the time, that art is an innate yet developed drive and appreciation, and an ever-residing desire for beauty and deeper understandings within the human mind, spirit, and soul – our short discussion based on my understanding of my friend’s theory – or equally possible, my incomplete understanding or complete misunderstanding of what he actually meant – thus, our dialogue, in my mind, an example of degrees in art and the desire to define, running up against enthusiasm, exuberance, and joy, without effect.
I don’t think our conversation proceeded much further, but I have many times gone back in my mind to this short exchange. Upon reflection, I realized that on my part, this dialogue was just part of the beginning of a conscious inner dialogue on art. For in time, through my ensuing thoughts and experiences with art, my cache of knowledge became broad and deep enough for me to at least begin upon the path of a more profound understanding and appreciation of art within me. And I do know now that there cannot be, and will not be, or even needs to be, a cohesive, all-inclusive, and eternally fixed definition and understanding of art. That will never happen. That’s the power and beauty of art within the human mind and soul.
And even just a discussion of art – a breathing together with others of the intricacies and beauties and joys and traumas of life – is in itself a precious art form, invaluable to all. For to approach art otherwise, is truly a shriveled and futile attempt to understand and define art – basically an attempt to restrict and control the breath of life, the beating heart, and the depths of the mind and soul of every human, now living, or once alive.
Let us now consider the art of the photo of this post – oh, probably already driving my poor friend crazy! Captured in the photo, is obviously some line drawing in the portion of the public mural painted on the wall of this small business establishment. Also, there is color – which will always capture my eye and interest my mind and soul. I do not “understand” the purpose or theme of this portion of the mural, nor did I attempt to view or capture in a photo or make sense of the entire mural, but the life and flow of this portion immediately resonated within me. And I – now the artist of the photo – purposely included the overflowing industrial dumpster in the photo as a juxtaposition to the more “ordered” flow of the mural. To me, this further highlighted the contrast within the mural itself between the objects in color and the grey and white fields – all objects in both, alive in many unique ways – and the directional intensity of the mural, reminding me of the wildness of the flowing river of human life.
And this flowing life is not trash, as is the reality of the treatment of the contents of the dumpster, but rather this joyfully tumbling flotsam and jetsam gushes forth from the springs of our own vibrant and colorful shared human existence and being. This is not life swept away into oblivion, as this flowing river – not destructive, but life-giving and affirming – is constant, eternal even, carrying all on to some other venue, to some other place, to an ocean perhaps, where it does not sink as inert sediment, but prospers, propagates, and thrives as a swirling living continuum and community of human life – not trash, but art – our life.
And considering the dumpster itself, it is not static, but one scrawled boldly with a graffiti incomprehensible to me, except as a very human attempt to declare one’s presence, one’s life, itself an appeal to the beholding eye. And the dumpster’s contents, a colorful jumbled witness to the messy and transitory nature of human life, but, with a spot of recognition – I love it – for somehow a Starbucks cup sits upright and proud, as if the hand that held the cup to their lips, did not so much see the cup itself just as trash to be discarded, but gave the cup, and therefore the experience, whatever the Starbucks coffee represented in their life, a carefully placed dignified spot on the dumpster – the coffee finished, the person perhaps then hurrying off to work or school or a late morning rendezvous – endless thoughts possible here.
And I, the photographer, included the tree and its trunk and branches to soften and frame the scene, bringing nature into view, the natural world of a tree growing, and thriving in leaf during the summer, planted along the way of the sidewalk – a blessing to those traversing city streets. Yet even with the tree, the human hand is evident. Branches have been cut and pruned away, which in my eyes, enhances the beauty of the tree within the photo, for it is now the human touch upon nature which frames with growth and life, all of the ebb and flow of everything else within the photo. A random city scene elevated, in my mind, to art because of its image of human existence – its vitality, strength, beauty, dignity even, and innate impulse to communicate and be heard – an art piece in my mind, defined not by strict, limited, or meaningless rules, but by the beholding human mind and soul.
Well I guess it is art but I do not think anyone would hang it on their wall. As far as Alex Pollock from a previous article, his stuff is never hanging on my wall! It looks like a ten year old threw a tantrum and just threw paint at a canvas. Sorry, Give me Monet etc. It soothes the soul.