This post isn’t about me, but I feel it’s important to give you some background for a frame of reference in regard to my appreciation of art.
My father is a scientist, and my mother taught English literature. They were extremely different people with opposite philosophies of life.
My mother certainly appreciated art. I’m not so sure about my dad. He has/is always focused on nuclear energy, isotope enrichment, and so forth, even now at the age of 86.
In my younger years when I thought I leaned more towards science, I decided art wasn’t important. I couldn’t identify its purpose. As far as I could see, it just sat there and didn’t do anything. Back then, I thought if something had meaning, you could easily identify that meaning. Anyway, I had little use for art. (Isn’t that awful? I think so now.)
So, I went along in life without art. Luckily as a kid, I was exposed to art. I toured well-respected museums in Holland, listened to poetry readings, and went to classical music concerts. Although, I had no appreciation for these experiences as a teenager, I value them now as an adult.
In college, I accidentally took an art appreciation course with a focus on music. I absolutely loved that class. The instructor was an oboist in the Austin Symphony. I didn’t want that course to end, and it wasn’t an easy class either.
I wrote the professor a note when the semester finished letting him know how much I enjoyed his instruction. He told us his favorite piece of music was Adagio for Strings, and he played a recording of it on the last day of class. I love it too. He impacted my life for the better.
I also took a course in romantic poetry and again was smitten. (Okay, I am NOT that fond of T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land. Every other poem we studied, however, was either music to my mind or one that I could at least wrap my brain around.)
The year after my husband died, my love of art expanded.–No idea why except when I saw a painting or sculpture I liked, it made me feel better about life. And duh, suddenly I “got” the meaning of art. Art has purpose and value when it makes you feel—good or bad.
The year after my husband passed, I bought a lot of paintings–not expensive pieces or anything created by a famous artist–just pieces that made me feel good. Art helped to heal me.
When I drove around my little town the other day taking photos of various places and plants for this blog, I saw several pieces of art made by local artists and was instantly drawn to them. I took photos of those pieces, but I didn’t bother to pay tribute to the artist by photographing the accompanying plaque. I went back and did that today. The plaque for each artist’s creation follows the photo(s) of that piece.
I’m not trying to sell art. In fact, I don’t know even one of these artists.
I feel strongly that a well-done garden is a lot like a well-done art piece. You feel something when you view it. (I know not everyone agrees that gardening can be a form of art, but I don’t care.)
My hope is you will enjoy the following photos of local art. I personally like the Indian warrior best.
Here’s a link I found to the art in Palestine, TX if you’re interested.