Artwork discussion.

Capable wrote:

I'm not much into Picasso but this one struck my eye.
I don't know what it is called but perhaps the figure is meditating.
He/she can perhaps also be mourning or filled with remorse and/or trying to decide what to do next.
Or it could simply be a moment of sheer and utter silence - the kind of silence which can be quite deafening...if listened to... instead of simply flowing through/experiencing it in the moment.

I think part of the beauty of a painting is as it is in poetry. One ponders and contemplates it for his/her self and then waits to see what develops. The negative coming to the foreground of our consciousness through any kind of art is just as important as the positive...could be even more so since that is what we, in "reality" need to look at.

I find this to be very poignant and peaceful. Ah, the blue...
I would like to sit with him and ask what he is thinking in that moment.

...and is he reaching out for the pitcher to find it or is it that within its touch his thoughts bring him into a memory which freezes him - holds him - within a time and place he doesn't want to let go of. Shhhh...don't breathe.




The Blind Man's Meal

Vincent van Gogh
Shoes

Some might look at the image of these shoes and not be moved at all by it. Beauty is, after all, in the eyes of the beholder. But how sad is it that we do not seek and see beauty in deeper and more distant and faraway waters than that which we see at an instant glance.

But when we begin to look, really look, at the image of these shoes, and open ourselves to them, and listen to what they have to tell us, or might possibly show us, then they might then begin to speak to us and possibly paint a picture or write a story - on the canvas of our minds.

They will come alive for us and help us to imagine and to enter into the journey of the one who wore them.

Who wore these shoes? What kind of a man was he? How did he experience life? Did he love life or did he hate life? Was life cruel to him? We somehow might imagine life as being cruel to this soul by the appearance of his shoes. But we might be wrong if we allowed appearances to end our journey of exploration here - for this might have been a man who so enjoyed and utterly lived his miles after miles after miles with such gusto and unrestraint, both existentially and geographically.

We might begin to thoroughly entertain enriching thoughts and fantasies, upon reflection, of the man who wore these shoes; and, in that, he might become important to us, become more real to us, or at the very least, we might begin or continue, to question his existence, his own journey through life. He becomes a kind of mystery unfolding. And isn't this the place to which art ought to take us, a meaningful place of such qualia, such personal experience, a place where mystery and possibility and creativity and thinking unfolds.

Where did these shoes take this man? How far did he have to walk, to trudge daily? Was it a cold, cold experience for him or was it a warming one, with the sun basking on his back or toward his heart? Did he gaze up at the still predawn sky holding the stars, experiencing his world in total wonderment, allowing those stars to sink, to descend, into his being, ever transforming him, as he walked onward?

Was he alone in the world or did he have family? Was he a loving man whose family meant everything to him - a man who saw no sacrifice in the work to keep his family together - but only the deepest, deepest pleasure and gift to have them near?

Did he awaken very early in the morning and quietly go about his business of getting ready for another part of his journey? I can imagine him, but without the luxury of much time, sitting in front of the warm fireplace, hugging his tin cup, drinking his coffee, preparing himself for the cold and the long trek to work.

Did he love his aloneness or did he hate it? Did he love the quiet or did he hate it? Did he love his simple abode? Was it a simple abode? Was he the kind of human being who lived in complete harmony with his own nature and with the nature which surrounded him? Did he love the trees and the sounds of the water and the animals? Did he stand in awe of the mountains around him? Was he the kind of man who never missed a thing before him? Did he lay in his bed at times and listen to the owl who hoots - with a smile on his face and such an easy contentment within? Was he the kind of man who layed curled up with his wife - always - with a protective arm around her - ever mindful in his waking hours, of her breathing and her presence - even within his slumber?

Was he young or was he older? Was he religious - did he believe in a god - did he kneel in prayer to a god or was his spirituality simply grounded to the earth and set in place among the stars - more meaningfully and sacredly touched and felt from deeply within.

As I look at these shoes, I wonder - would the man who wore these shoes be one who could have become so alive to me that I would have wanted to know him?

Yes!


One may have a blazing hearth in one's soul and yet no one ever came to sit by it. Passers-by see only a wisp of smoke from the chimney and continue on their way.”
― Vincent van Gogh

"


I never really thought much of Pollock's work - I wasn't so exposed to it. I'm also not much of an observer or judge of art. I only knew the usual squiggly line kind which I felt appealed more to the extreme rational type, like the mathematican. But much of his work is not simply lines and a splattering of paint and blotches and I daresay that there is reason, logic and intention behind them. At least I can now intuit this even if I cannot decipher it.  But some of it is, like the one above, also so much more and is really quite beautiful and capable of instilling a serene sense yet at the same time a desire to explore, to go moving through all of that, not simply to discover and discern it, but to see what is on the other side of it. I never would have thought that I could say this, but I could possibly hang this in my living room - that is, if I had any more open space for it.

The colors are so harmonious and beautifully blended and there are the squiggly lines and the blotches and the light and what looks like nature unfolding and some things which you might imagine as you peer into his painting. It draws you right in. At first glance, I can see an animal and a dancer and a woman kneeling and a man hanging upside down and a girl playing a musical instrument ...among other things which will remain anonymous and call on your own imagination...if you chose to take that exciting journey into Pollock.

It will either be viewed within its totality or seen as the sum total of many parts...if I expressed that correctly. Either way, for me, it is a beautiful work of art.

The more I look at this painting, the more appealing it becomes to me ~ the more i sense its beauty.
This painting could be a child's delight I think - children have a different sense of wonder at first glance and a withholding of quick judgment. But evidently, it can also be an adult's delight ~ like a walk in an unfamiliar woods or a gazing up at the stars ~ with such a thrilling sense of expectancy.

!MIRE!