State of Life: Home from work and putting my feet up.
Musical Input: I'm enjoying the quiet tonight
Forewarning: I do not consider myself an informed art critic, historian, or even particularly tasteful when it comes to art. I am of the school of thought that if it appeals to me, then I'll put it up. I don't follow any particular school of art, period of history, or any other division. And honestly, if I really had to choose one style that I like more consistently than others, it would have to be realism. I don't care much for the impressionists, expressionists, abstract artists, cubists, etc.
Which brings me to my point. I love Starry Night by Van Gogh. When I first saw it, I honestly thought it was weird. The surrealistic presentation of the stars really did not appeal at all. As the years have gone on, though, I find myself drawn back to it. Why?
I mean, it's not that Van Gogh's tragic life altered my view. It's sad, but many artists are lost long before their time. It's not his use of colors, because yellow is actually one of my least favorite colors. I do love blues, though. So what is it about this particular painting that draws me back again and again?
When I first saw it, I thought it was really depressing. Now, though, it's not depressing but whimsical. It's warm, in spite of the dark, cool colors. I want to sit on that hill, watching the Milky Way swirl overhead and listening to the bell ring from that steeple.
And I guess that's what art should be. It's not an answer; it's a question.
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