An Art Musing – Fine Art & Custom Framing & A Little Boy Posed Between
Behold a photo taken of an alert yet cautious young boy in a stroller, evaluating and attempting to understand to the best of his ability a stop on the walk, a pause in being pushed through the mid-morning still uncrowded sidewalks of a familiar route through town, on a very pleasant yet slightly cool windless day.
Simple photo. Random? Perhaps. Posed on the spot? Probably. And the little boy? Well, apparently not totally sure about the stop. Perhaps also now not totally sure about the photographer, once one of those pushing the stroller, now standing at a distance. Intelligent child. Inquisitive, and perhaps wary. The photographer, who loves the orange of the little boy’s shoelaces, is reflected on the glass over the child’s head.
The boy in the stroller, the subject of the photo, yes, sets the tone of this picture by his response of questioning eyes and face. He asks, in his own way, further questions, but not of the photo, this art piece – or whatever this would be to him – for honestly, those do not even exist as realities for the boy. For the questions he asks are not about form and structure, artistic or otherwise, but about the persons he sees, their actions, their nearness or distance from him, the expressions upon their faces and tone of voice, their intentions, and his own role within the moment, and the potential impact of everything upon him. And all that, is not art – other than in the acquisition of survival skills, which is always an art.
And regardless of how many howevers, and whatevers, and additional shifting thoughts, and ideas we may posit – the question of artistic intent essentially becomes, at least here, inane as if anyone truly controls art. For the lack of total control over art is what makes art innately alive and real, especially photos of persons, especially photos with children, for in this photo, the boy’s small face – occupying less than 1% of the surface of the photo – dominates the photo, and is the photo, and his unvoiced questions and thoughts have nothing to do with art – and that is the innate focus of the photo.
So, was there an intended goal and theme of the photo? Well … what do we see? A little boy in a stroller unsure about the stop, considering and wondering about someone, or some others, now in the distance. And the intent of the photographer, the artist? And the art of the photo? Well, as stated in the title of this posting, it is fine art and custom framing and a little boy posed between. For a child is always fine art, and the boy is actually posed between the two upper signs. So, the theme comes brilliantly across to the thoughtful eye … and yet …
The photographer, of course, did have choices of which photo within the photo series to use. That is true. And some photos were “more perfect” with the little boy looking straight ahead – a classic tabloid – perfect and static then as if created with marble statues. That photo, if used, then becoming a perfect easy capture, with the artistic implication – the boy viewed as fine art perfectly framed within the front of the shop – and perfectly framed, in the view of the artist, within a “custom frame” recognized by his finely attuned artistic sense. A beautiful and easily recognized theme, a statement and sentiment readily accessible to many. A perfect moment, and a masterly display by a subtle creative artist in producing another artistic gem. Yes! … But really?
However, the “perfect” photo was not chosen from among the eight or so taken. Why? For if classic perfection was the goal, doesn’t the boy in his turning to cast a wary look towards the photographer destroy the classic tabloid sense? Hasn’t he effectively shattered the sense of “perfection” the photographer set out to achieve? Does his expression bless the subtle expression of art the photographer intended, or does his face just call into question everything about the photo – all the efforts and supposed themes and subtleties of “artistic” expression? Aren’t his eyes full of cautions and suspicions about this whole contrived rigamarole – reducing this production of “great” art by his child’s estimation that it is just some inexplicable adult activity not to be completely trusted, or quickly to become part of, concluding rather that all of it is just something to keep a cautious, wary, open eye carefully upon.
The statement the child really makes is that all this is just messy and suspect at best, and that statement of fact … is what has raised this photo from schmaltzy to art. For life, all life, is messy, and he rightly questions anything posed and any thoughts of it as perfection, for he is real, and his face, his eyes, even at his young age, make the final statement of what art is and what is just insipid and stupid.
You can never improve children’s art. Truth. And here, with this photo, it is the expression of this child that elevates this photo from being boring trash – done that, saw that – to something real and appealing. Something the artist could never have obtained through manipulation of the scene, or the boy, or the child’s evaluation of what was really going on.
This boy is my grandson. I love my grandson. Even though his face occupies less than 1% of the photo, he occupies way more than 100% of my heart, as do all my grandchildren. He is now at least four years older than when I took this photo. Many times, he thinks I am boring, or at least he says so. I’m sure he is right … at least some of the time. And this periodic evaluation of my being is a personal messy reality I usually flounder in accepting, but … the real and messy is always better than the false and trite. Just ask any child and listen to what they say, even if they speak only with their eyes.
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Interesting perspective. I never took my kids to an art museum. I knew they would be bored. My husband enjoyed them and I went along with it. I am too hyperactive to enjoy them. Your little grandson must have been bored to death. But your piece is an interesting point of view. I wonder what your little grandson was thinking? That would be interesting to ponder.