Home is where the art is
By Jane Walmsley
I am happy to admit that I am something of an Ignoramus when it comes to ‘Art’.
I am as capable as the next Philistine of meandering around a museum looking at Masterpieces, but please don’t involve me in a discussion on brush strokes or the quality of light – my enjoyment just doesn’t extend that far.
While much leaves me awestruck an equal amount leaves me thinking “Emperor’s new clothes”, especially in the Modernist section. Yes, my name is Jane, and I am an Art Ignoramus! So in my blissful ignorance of things ‘arty’, what constitutes a worthwhile piece? I have two criteria; does it ‘call to you’ and, would you put it on your wall? A David? If I had the wall space – yes! Van Gogh, definitely. Picasso? I’ll take a pass.
So with what, if anything, do I populate my walls?
Sadly, nothing of significance, but I have one piece that I cherish for the colour, the style and the subject; a piece of inexpensive Pop Art but no less valuable to me for that. Four different facets of my son’s face, ‘Warhol-ed’ in my favourite colours, computer printed from photos.
The styling is iconic, (which famous person hasn’t had the Warhol treatment?), the colours vibrant and, of course, my son’s beautiful face, captured in that moment of time with all the eloquent expression of exasperated adolescence.
Does it call to me? Of course it does, I can almost hear him saying “Oh Mum, really??!!”
Have I put it on my wall? Well….. er, yes. So clearly then it meets my criteria but is it ‘Art’? Should Art be universal or personal? Should it be for the masses or for a significant few? Don’t know the answer to either of those, but I do know that I will never tire of this piece or replace it with something new.
Each day I look at it I see something different and the colours make my soul sing. Gosh, I sound like Sister Wendy Beckett, and if a picture can make you do that, it’s got to be Art! Hasn’t it?