This is a picture of the first substantial piece of original art my daughter purchased on her own for her first real apartment. Given her limited budget, she coughed up a sizable chunk of her disposable income to make it hers. Personally I think it is excellent. But then she and I are in sync when it comes to anything that may even hint or smell of bicycles.
This 3x4 foot wall hanging patiently crafted from recycled steel sheets reminded me of the Art Appreciation class I took in college. The instructor had obviously stopped paying attention to any art after the 1890s. Either that or I failed to or refused to get on the same page as her in order to safely pass one of the gimme courses we had too many of back in the day. To this day, several friends just do not understand how or why I forced her to fail me. But I did.
Actually I did not officially fail, I received a "NC" or No Credit. It didn't really hurt that 2.mediocre GPA I was carrying. It didn't help it either. I aced all three True/False tests. I even caught most of the classes. But for some reason, I just could not stand the woman teaching the class. Maybe it was her "I know what Art is and you don't" attitude. And maybe it was just me being stubborn and unwilling to fall into line. But every class, I picked out something to rub her the wrong way with. I found out early she hated the word "why". So I used it as often as possible. Her technical and historical knowledge of Art was top shelf. Her appreciation of it sucked. She would have definitely not had any appreciation for this piece.
Which brings me to my point. The reason I even posted the picture. There are a multitude of reasons I may like or dislike a piece of Art. Most times it has nothing to do with what branch, era, or school of art it came from. It has to do with what does it do to my senses, visually and emotionally. How does it make me feel? Who created it is of little interest at first. If I like a piece of art, I will often follow up by looking for more by the same artist.
I long ago gave up trying to figure out why two people can look at the same painting, watch the same movie, read the same book and then come away from them with opposing attitudes about what they just experienced. I may not be sophisticated enough to break down artistic endeavors into the various nuts and bolts that make up that particular art form, but I am able to appreciate most any art from the visceral nut sack of my soul. In my opinion, good art always hits me there first, which will often then kick my brain in the ass to actually think about it.
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