Scared, frightened, afraid are just a few of many words that describe my first trip to an art museum. Me, being a non-artist, couldn’t help but to feel out of place. My interpretation of art is total different from someone that is familiar with the arts. For a piece of work I would call pretty, an artist might call it engaging. For what I might call disturbing, an artist would call it intriguing. For a piece of work I might feel I could do, an artist might call it a “Pollock.”
Being in an art museum is like going to a different world for me. A non-artist in an elite society of socialites; can I fit in, or will I stand out? It has to be obvious that I am oblivious to my surroundings, wandering around in awe, marveling at the greatness on the walls.
My understanding of art is that it is a timeline of human beings dating back to prehistoric times. Art is an expression of life that tells the story of that time period whether it be Egyptian art, The Renaissance, Realism, Impressionism, or Abstract Expressionism. In the end, to me, art is art.
When walking through a museum I see two kinds of art, good art and bad art. Good art being something that catches my eye and makes me say “wow, that took some time to do!” Then there is bad art, that’s the art that I walk past while thinking to myself, “I could do that.”
Though I’m not an artist, I find art amazing. For me it’s not about knowing the correct terms to describe art, it’s about the feeling that you get when you look at it. There’s nothing like a piece of art that you can just stare at and wonder what the artist was thinking while giving your own interpretation of the piece. That’s what makes art great. What a piece of art means to you can mean something totally different to me with neither one of us being wrong.
Great art sparks conversation and speaks different things to many people. Art is a language in its own right. The only difference is that it is universal and any and everyone can speak it without an interruption. It’s amazing how art connects everyone one way or another. From graffiti on the side of a building to a painting hanging in the Guggenheim, art is one of the few things that can speak and be understood by anyone.
When walking through an art museum, I don’t go around trying to determine if it’s a pastel or oil painting. I don’t go around looking to see if the painting has mix media included or if the color wheel was used correctly. I go to an art museum to see art, good and bad. Art is the language that has been around forever and it’s a language that I didn’t know I could even speak until I saw a piece that spoke to me. Art can put a smile on my face; it also can make me shake my head in disgust. It touched me in away I didn’t know it could. Art made a non-artist want to be an artist just so I could be included in the conversation.