A IS FOR ART

                                      

(Following in the manner of Sue Grafton and her books' titles, I have decided to do a series of alphabetical journal entries.)

This is not the first time I have featured this particular painting in my journal. In my previous blog, I used it to represent some sentiments I had about the grieving process. I did not analyze the painting itself.

 

I am not usually attracted to "dark" art. I seem to gravitate toward the light and airy works. The ones that while they make me think, the thoughts are pleasant ones. I can easily imagine myself inside those paintings. Strolling down the street, sitting on a stone bench in a colorful secret garden surrounded by high walls, or stretched out on my back in a field among masses of wildflowers and gazing at the clouds.

 

Yet, the above painting is probably one of my favorites I have ever seen. It hangs in The Art Institute of Chicago. Funny, I was most eager to see the many works of Claude Monet that are displayed there. (Outside of The Louvre, The Art Institute of Chicago has the largest collection of Monet's paintings.) He has always been my favorite artist. To be surrounded by the beauty he created was staggering. Silly me, I cried when I stood right in front of his Water Lilies painting. It overwhelmed me to see it in person. And you can clearly see my swollen eyes in this picture taken of me standing beside that painting!

 

                                           

 

After spending an enormous amount of time looking at his paintings, I moved on to other areas.

 

And that is when I came across the painting at the top of this entry. To say I was mesmerized would be a gross understatement. I could barely breathe while I stared at it. It is one of the most compelling paintings I have laid eyes on. I could not get enough of it. The title is That Which I Should Have Done I Did Not Do (The Door). The artist, Ivan Albright, spent ten years working on it. It is a fairly large painting, 97” x 36”, and absolutely riveting. Oh, what must he have been thinking when he created it?

 

So many possibilities. It, to me, is one of the exciting parts about looking at paintings. Analyzing. Wondering. Deciding for myself what the artist is saying, as though he wanted ME to know what he is expressing through the use of his paints.

 

Is that woman’s hand opening the old door displaying the funeral wreath? Is she entering with much trepidation because she feels she should have spent more time with the one before death took him? Did she have regrets about her treatment of the deceased? Had there been some sort of rift in prior years that kept them from contacting each other? Is she frightened to enter because she is overcome with such deep sadness knowing the person she knew is there no longer? Or is she closing the door and leaving with the “what ifs” flooding her mind? The “should haves.” The title of the piece clearly indicates there was no relief felt from the visit. Whether or not she is just arriving or just departing, guilt has crept into the picture. The kind of guilt that can haunt the living for a lifetime.  

 

I saw paintings by Van Gogh and Renoir and Toulouse-Lautrec and Degas and other world famous artists at The Art Institute. I was in my absolute glory. But, the painting that left the biggest impact on me was this one. Rightfully so.

 

"I am not interested in the landscape in the topographical sense. I am only interested in painting one's feelings, strong feelings, passionate feelings. One paints in order to try to understand a bit about life and about oneself." ~Norman Adams