Loving a Work of Art at First Sight

Regatta Majestic    acrylic on canvas    48” x 24”             J. Plesh

Obviously, when you look at a painting, you can see it.  But can you feel it?  Can you hear it? Are your senses awakened to feelings beyond the visual before your eyes?

When a viewer glances momentarily at a work of art, they may be seeing it, but they may not necessarily be “feeling it.” Their senses have not been aroused enough to have them stop and fully absorb the piece.  The inspiration and motivation that went into its creation has not captured their imagination. There’s no love at first sight, no interest in getting to know and understand this work of art.

But when the viewer stops and stays, and really takes the time to get into the piece, they may well be realizing the unique and personal experience every artist hopes their art will project. To look at a scenic painting and hear the rustle of the leaves, smell the morning dew, or to view an abstract and feel exhilaration is connecting with the art, and it is then that the art is brought to life.

So many times I’ve watched as a viewer will stand in front of one of my regatta paintings for an extended period of time, and when engaged in conversation, say they can feel the mist and the freshness of salty air.  There is no greater compliment they can pay me with regards to the art. For someone to say this is so much more meaningful and satisfying than simply saying, “nice colors,” “love the texture” or “great technique” – to me, these are all words indicating they see, but they don’t feel the art.

Those purchasing a painting simply because it looks good next to the sofa, or fills a space in the room are buying decor, not necessarily a work of art in their eyes.  For some that’s quite okay - most artists are pleased to simply have the sale!  But, for someone to really feel the piece or to be captured by the mood and feel of the piece, is the most meaningful reaction in my opinion, and one that pleases me much more than just a sale.

A Moment In Time

I took the photo illustrated here many years ago, well before the simplicity and ease of the digital camera. With a click of the camera a moment in time was captured. The wooden bridge has now been replaced by concrete and steel. Dishearteningly, you won’t find youngsters fishing there anymore. The boys shown in the photo are now adults, some with young children of their own. And my old Nikon has been replaced with a new high-tech digital Nikon. 

Progress is great! The bridge is sturdier, the new camera fantastic. But what of the children of the children fishing? Where are they fishing? Are they fishing? If not, what are they doing withtheir moment in time? 

This is a thought I’ve presented before...a thought that continues to intrigue me—bother me is probably more truthful. Change happens, progress inevitable and necessary. But with change and progress comes certain losses. Losses of the simplicity and joy of every day’s natural gifts. Where once teenagers rode their bicycles over wooden bridges, they now drive their cars over concrete structures.

I recognize and readily admit these comments come from a “senior citizen” who on the surface may appear out of tune and out of touch. But know I recognize, appreciate and accept progress and change of lifestyle. My hope is that when today’s young people are in adulthood they’ll be able to look back and recall their moment in time. Which poses the question, what would you describe as their moment in time in today’s lifestyle?  Ask them; they’ll text you their reply.