08/15/05

5-7-2007

I was thinking about the nature of art and why we as humans beings and more particularly why I as a human choose to adorn my dwelling with such contrivances. I can speak for mankind only as it relates to my own humanity, but there must be some commonality.

What does art add to life I wonder? It does not supply food for my body nor store or preserve the sustenance that my body needs. It does not shelter me, provide a roof to keep me dry, or warm me when I am cold. It fails to protect me from the wind or heat or snow. It does not assist in acquiring pleasures of the body from mating rituals (the "come up and see my erotic etching" line rarely works in and of itself).

I remember coming home from work after a particular grueling and stressful day. When I crossed the threshold and entered the hallway colors and form caught the corner my eye.

I turned and stared at the painting hanging on the wall. For a moment I became absorbed by the picture. The cares of the day fell away. And I saw what the artist saw. Or more specifically what the artist was sharing with me.

He was saying to me that there is more to life than the everyday struggles. There is beauty, and joy, and goodness in the world. Do not forget these things! I understood even though we had not communicated except through images.

At that moment my wife came in "Oh hello - another hard day?"

"Yes, but it is better now."

RJG