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Attraction, Gravitational Pull, Love, Allure. We have all had ah-hah experiences and intense feelings. And, from these experiences we figure out what kinds of people, activities, and culture thrill us. Our conclusions make life easier. As we grow older, I think filtering becomes essential. But there are also downsides to creating categories and labels for our preferences: first, we may miss out on surprises and, secondly, we may become less reflective.
One’s commitment to specific preferences may obliterate other possibilities. I have come to realize that if I only listen to jazz, I overlook the joys…or sorrows… of country music. I have recently increased the presets on my car radio. A small effort in the right direction, I think. Through my book group, I am reading books suggested by others…often I enjoy them! I try not to race through the museum’s Renaissance Room on my way to the Expressionist Exhibit. And, of course, as I expose myself to new cultural delights, I am not always delighted.
Which brings me to my second point…Since I am aware of my biases, I don’t always feel the necessity to give them thought. It’s a lot of work. Why ponder something that is a forgone conclusion? Yet, I do know that a profound reaction becomes more meaningful when the feeling is followed by thought. Back to the book group… Imagine that I love the selected book and can’t put it down. At our meeting I proffer that the book was wonderful. And that’s it. Hopefully, others will rescue me by digging deep and providing engaging insights.
In order to better understand my artistic predilections, I will dig deep and seek insight. I am looking at the fifty-five images of paintings and drawings on my Art Appreciation Pinterest Board (samples above). I pin images to my board with much feeling and little thought. Now is the time to think. I first notice a lot of color, although not all of the paintings are bright. I can see that I am excited by expressive strokes, gestures, and markings. I realize that I am drawn to non-representational subjects, along with abstracted figures, still lifes, and landscapes. As a fairly realistic painter, I am struck by the fact that I am strongly attracted to non-realistic paintings. Wow. Perhaps I should consider a more abstract approach to painting. Something to think about.
My pondering provided new meaning without disabling labels. Perhaps I’m on to something.
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Facing My Past. I think of all the faces I have drawn. Most were not in art making environments. While other folks doodled and made those twirly girly lines, I drew whatever or whoever was in front of me.
I still remember my first real portrait. My sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Stoebe, read aloud to us after each lunch recess. We were allowed to rest, doodle, or listen attentively. One afternoon I drew her face…short curly black hair, round face, huge glasses with no eyes. I gave it to her and she said she would keep it always.
My portraits in class continued throughout my academic career. There is hardly a teacher or professor who has not appeared among my class notes with thin turquoise lines tattooed across his or her face. Interestingly, while drawing, I was still able to attend to the lecture and classroom discussion. I think my brain was compartmentalized and organized into two compatible tasks. I don’t know anything about the science of brains or the politics of multi-tasking. But in these drawing-listening situations, I was able to do both simultaneously. I know that today, if my models were able to keep still while talking, I would gladly listen to their stories.
I continued sketching in the workplace. During small work meetings, I drew pens, paper cups, and paper clips. Occasionally I risked drawing the face of a nearby co-worker. During these meetings, I would make some work-appropriate sounds to show I was listening while drawing. In large training settings, I always reverted to the portrait habits of my student days. One very slow Christmas Eve, with no work to do, I sat at my desk and drew staff portraits. I was later reprimanded for drawing portraits on State Time.
I looked forward to a retirement where I could flagrantly draw and paint portraits. I wasn’t sure of the exact nature of my pursuit and toyed with several ideas. I considered buying a sun hat and sitting on the Santa Monica Pier drawing portraits. Then, I thought that, perhaps, I would become a forensic artist. I envisioned renderings that actually looked like a unique person rather than the generic perp. And, recently, I was reminded of another fleeting post-retirement fantasy when I read an LA Times article: Evidence May Be Sketchy, But Not This Courtroom Artist’s Drawings. An interesting article on a unique career. Although I did not pursue this occupation, I whole-heartedly embrace the courtroom artist’s sentiment:
The cold eye of the camera doesn’t pick up the essence of the story unfolding before you. A camera doesn’t capture the soul.
—Mona Shafer Edwards, courtroom artist.
With these words, I face my future.
