What is art? On the
most basic of levels I know what art is – pretty pictures that were either
painted, sculpted or sketched. But not all art is pretty, not all art requires
the artist to be able to draw. I look
back on my on my education in this country and I realize that something went
wrong. (Actually, I can point to
multiple places where the educational system was less than stellar, where
things were neglected or ignored, but for the purposes of this essay, I will focus
primarily on art.) I never learned art
in elementary or middle school. But at
the time that was fine with me. I hated
to draw. Drawing meant sitting still and
that was often a skill I struggled with.
Hell, I couldn’t even color in the lines, but that probably said more
about my interest level and attention span than it did about my talent. Then I got to high school, where one semester
of art was required in my freshman year.
It was one of my worst classes. I
had no “eye” for art. I couldn’t draw a
straight line with the aid of a ruler, my circles were more like jagged ovals
and as for my comprehension of which colors complimented each other – well those
of you who have seen me dress myself know what a disaster it is when I try to
determine what colors go well together. Hence
my uniform of khaki pants and solid colored shirts. Anyway, in theory, I was
supposed to be able to choose between art and music for my sophomore year. While I am fairly certain that I am tone deaf,
I wanted to take drums. I figured at the
very least I could make a lot of noise – something I am good at. But alas, due to scheduling issues, the
administration stole my choice, forcing me to suffer through an entire year of
art. Ugh. I was miserable. My classmates all had some level of
competence, but from the moment I walked through the door I was lost. I have no recollection of what my final grade
was, but more telling is that I have no memory of a single project I worked
on. So awful was my experience that I
have blocked it out.
College was no better.
In order to graduate, I was required to take an art history class. Yuck!
It was the worst class I took in college. I would show up to class in the morning with
two croissants and a large cup of coffee. But as soon my coffee was finished, I
was sound asleep on my desk. The
lectures always involved an endless stream of slides that the professor droned
on about, one after another. In order to
see the slides, she turned the lights off.
Darkness and boredom collided and no amount of caffeine could combat the
effects. The professor mentioned things
like shadows, negative space, depth and contours – yawn, yawn, yawn. The readings were just as bad. I struggled to stay away as I ploughed through
countless articles. It is not surprising
that the grade was my lowest in four years of college. To this day, my dad
still reminds me of the C (C+, I remind him, that + somehow important) that I got
in art.
At the very least, my limited experience regarding art in
the classroom should have taught me what art is. But it didn’t. Yes, I can look at the work produced by some
of the greats – Rembrandt, Picasso, and Michelangelo - and recognize beauty and talent, but my
understanding of art stops there.
The ironic thing is, I love photography. I have loved photography since I was about
nine years old and got my first camera.
Initially, I just liked taking pictures to remember certain events and occasions
in my life. I kept picture albums as
keepsakes. But by the time I got to
college, I liked taking pictures of things for no reason other than that they
appealed to me. I would take pictures of
things and have people say, “Why did you shoot that?” And I responded, “Because I thought it was
intriguing.” They would roll their eyes
and the moment would pass. While,
struggling through my art history class in college, I also took several
photography classes, which I loved. Somehow,
the fact that photography is a form of art eluded me. It seemed I had a knack
for shooting things in a way that appeared visually stimulating or
pleasing. I had grown up thinking I
despised art, that I had no artistic ability at all. The truth is, I was probably more artistically
inclined than many of my classmates in high school, but because of the limited
curriculum for freshman and sophomores, no one ever discovered it. The really sad part is that in high school
there were photography classes, they were just considered advanced art
classes. In order to take them, you
needed to have done well at the drawing stage.
It seems unfair. If I could have
studied photography instead of drawing in high school perhaps I’d have had a
much more positive perspective regarding art now. If, instead of being forced to learn “artistic
terms” through the lens of Renaissance art, I had been permitted to learn them
through a photographic lens I would have excelled where I nearly failed. All students learn differently. All students have different interests and
abilities. It’s just unfortunate that
schools don’t take that into consideration.
Now here I am, twenty years after graduating high school and in the back
of my head I still carry around this illusion that I hate art. I still believe that I have no artistic
abilities at all, despite the photography I do as a hobby. And still, regardless of my illusions, I have
come to realize that all through school I never really got a straight, honest
and all encompassing answer – What is art?
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