The Beauty of Art

Art is something that I appreciate and rue the fact that drawing a straight line is hard for me.  In my early twenties, I bought a state of the art camera and started studying photography to appease that yen.  I worked with the camera, posed for others cameras, and, in general, studied the terrain of Okinawa through a lens.  I wasn’t much good, but I really tried.  Then, I met my husband who was an accomplished photographer with no camera.  I never used my camera again.  Now, lo, these many years later, I have my camera back, but it is hopelessly old fashioned compared to what is available now.

There are times when I wish I could paint and envy my kids ability to do so.  When the time is right, I am going to try and try again until I get something that looks like its meant to look.  In the meantime, my husband and I bought art works not the expensive, real stuff, but prints and originals that I really liked.  We used to go to art auctions back in the good old days.  It was a date night complete with babysitters and friends and a good time.  One piece we got because the auctioneer asked, “Who would like this piece?”  I loved the frame and the painting was okay, but up shot my hand along with plenty of others.  The auctioneer started counting, one, two three, and so on until he came to me.  Pointing he said, “Twenty dollars and it is yours.”  I was thrilled to have it and getting it for so little made it all the better.  I love all the ones we bought and have added to this petite collection over the years.  Nothing is worth much even twenty years later, but we didn’t buy them for their future value.  We bought them because we liked them and I still do. 

 While there isn’t much dollar value for them, the pleasure they have given me is immeasureable.  Each time I look at them, there is a surge of joy that it hangs in my house and I’m proud of them.  One is from a home for kids who have Down’s Syndrome named “Hidden Clue”.  I still haven’t found the clues, but I will in the future.  Two were done by my children when they were in elementary school.  I hung on to these pieces of paper with their drawings until I could get them framed and hung.  One my daughter completed while she was finishing college.  It is a world where everything is up in the air which probably reflects how she felt at the time.  I look at it and see now how she put her life together again.  An artist couldn’t put something on canvas unless that place or time didn’t mean something to them.   Those moments in time are frozen forever giving stability to the fluidity of life.

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