What constitutes art? Porridge to one is poison for the other. A picture – sculpture - photo – building - living trees: Anything, everything, and nothing, a black hole can be looked upon as art.
Art is subjective, and of value purely in according to the taste of the individual, and of course, where that person is as he travels along his individual journey through life. We are a part, a very small part, in the art of nature and often we just walk past without stopping to look and listen.
For me, I like walking, especially in a natural forest where I feel close to nature, that is the best kind of art, nature’s dynamic art, moving, changing, creating a myriad of shapes in numerous colours: twisted branches, rough, smooth, round: square shaped stones poking out of the ground.
The sound of the wind as it rushes though the trees: animal sounds. The sun as it hits the trees and dances with the leaves to create beams of light filled with minute airborne particles, most of which are seeds, alive, looking for that special bit of earth into which to land and find life.
Water, the sound of a river as it flows towards the sea, the bubbling, babbling, burping, gibbering sounds: every molecule alive and bursting with energy. Sometimes, there is silence where the waters runs deep, and yet, there is still sound, the sound of no sound, a rustle of leaves, a fish jumps – splash - a ring moves towards the shore and it is gone as if by magic back from whence it came.
All these things I see as art, a living vibrant art ever changing, never still, showing us the colour of its emotions in many differing forms every minute of every day as it dances to it own orchestrated sounds and colours. Growing more pronounced as the seasons change, but ever there is change, nothing staying the same. The now second is not the same as the second preceding, or the one which follows.
Art is subjective, and of value purely in according to the taste of the individual, and of course, where that person is as he travels along his individual journey through life. We are a part, a very small part, in the art of nature and often we just walk past without stopping to look and listen.
For me, I like walking, especially in a natural forest where I feel close to nature, that is the best kind of art, nature’s dynamic art, moving, changing, creating a myriad of shapes in numerous colours: twisted branches, rough, smooth, round: square shaped stones poking out of the ground.
The sound of the wind as it rushes though the trees: animal sounds. The sun as it hits the trees and dances with the leaves to create beams of light filled with minute airborne particles, most of which are seeds, alive, looking for that special bit of earth into which to land and find life.
Water, the sound of a river as it flows towards the sea, the bubbling, babbling, burping, gibbering sounds: every molecule alive and bursting with energy. Sometimes, there is silence where the waters runs deep, and yet, there is still sound, the sound of no sound, a rustle of leaves, a fish jumps – splash - a ring moves towards the shore and it is gone as if by magic back from whence it came.
All these things I see as art, a living vibrant art ever changing, never still, showing us the colour of its emotions in many differing forms every minute of every day as it dances to it own orchestrated sounds and colours. Growing more pronounced as the seasons change, but ever there is change, nothing staying the same. The now second is not the same as the second preceding, or the one which follows.
There is a difference and we should stop, take stock, see, smell, feel nature's message, because it speaks to us every second of every day, and if you listen, I mean really listen, your life will be enriched and your mind will be at peace. That is where the real beauty of art lies, so take your porridge, enjoy, but leave the poison behind, and remember the poem Desiderata.
Please, I would like to hear what art is to you - let me know!
Last night I heard Michael Jackson had died of a heart attack, and I will be shortly writing a blog: a reflection on his sad life.
Art in some ways is like love, it is in the eye of the beholder. Trash to one, is beauty to another.
ReplyDeleteStill, geniuses - like Michaelangelo's, will always shine through. There can be little doubt that this is true art. It is only on the 'fringe' that there may be room for debate.
Anonymous, what you say is so true, art, like love, is very much so, and it is in the eye of the beholder. True love, I suppose is like art, the holder of that love sees only beauty in the object of that that love.
ReplyDeleteThat is where it lies, deep within our minds, it would be nice to know who you are, you talk a lot of sense, and there is a warmth in your words.
Thank you for following my blog. Please if you have time look at my article on a hanging, by George Orwell, and write a response.
Alas, what you say is not strictly true. True love. whilst wishing that person always the best, neverthless is NOT blind. (when blind it is more correctly termed infatuation) True love sees everything only to clearly, and love is not altered as a result for love is unconditional regardless of personal cost.
ReplyDeleteIt makes the beloved almost transparent to the other. In art, one can disslike it, even hate it. In love there can be no hate for the opposite of love is not hate, but plain indifference.
When two peices of art are displayed together the result can be pleasure. When two people who truly love come together, both are usualy transformed.
Art & love have parallels, but also are manifestly different.
This is a brill bit of writing.
ReplyDeleteAzer.