Friday, 31 August 2012

Art Keeps Us Together.

Hello Readers. If you would have told me 4 years ago that I wouldn't be engaged at 22 because I'd be single at 21, I'd think you were crazy. So here I am in crazy. I actually really do enjoy being single, it's amazing how much more time I have to be with friends, try fun new things, and most importantly to work on art.

The one thing in art that just breaks my heart is how much I miss charcoal. For those of you who don't know me, Charcoal is what got me into a ridiculous amount of art schools. It's why they all send me big bulbous packets each semester, But I never go.

I worked with charcoal from 7th grade through my first year of college. After I left art school, I just couldn't do it anymore. Even though it was my art home and first fine art love. It's what made the fine arts fit so perfectly for me. It was a specially made soft-nude lamb skin glove, with a bow on top of the wrist. I've tried to work with it, but it never turns out. It's a dance I used to be so fawned of, but now I know all the wrong steps.

This morning I was watching my absolute favorite design show Flipping Out, and being a girl looking up Martha Stewart Weddings. There's one art inspired cake that I've been in love with for years. It's inspired by "The Basket of Apples," by Paul Cezanne, circa 1893. French Post-Impressionism is what I used to look at, study, and admire for hours on end back in my art days. It's how the soft thick angular contour lines flowed through the whole picture that were so dear to me. My work felt like the more stylistic cousin of it.

A friend was over and started asking me all sorts of questions about my old work. How I felt when I made it, how the charcoal made me feel, and what was my life like now that it's gone. I gave this crazy big deep speech, that made them cry to see how happy I was speaking of an old familiar love. It went something like this.

Viewing "The Basket of Apples," by Paul Cezanne.. It reminded me why I loved charcoal so much, and how I felt about it. I used realistic and stylistic contour lines, but the shading was this soft grey velvet against these almost soft onyx lines. Like walking up the path in the middle of a European winter, The house is old with wood finishings. The deep wood is full of soft rich nooks, and crannies, and marks. The marks full of love, romance, and loneliness. The most beautiful long love you will ever whiteness. You walk in and are suddenly wrapped up in a big lush, thick woven, cream wool blanket. You're completely covered and enveloped by warmth.

Like an old European couple walking into town on a clear winter day. The snow sweetly softly crunching under their feet, all bundle up and warm. Still holding hands, Telling stories to each other, and sharing the oldest of loves together. She still wears pumps and the same soft-nude pink lip color from their first kiss as teen lovers, and their wedding day. He shines his shoes every day for her and still wears the silk navy tie she got him on their first wedding anniversary. The one when he couldn't afford to get her a gift, but on his way hone from work he picked a white chrysanthemum. Which has been her favorite flower ever since. She still cooks an egg in a basket to share in the morning, and he gets their wool coats pressed every week. They're love as deep and as rich as the 2 hundred year old wood that holds their home together. The saddest deepest love, only having a few years left to last. Both afraid the other will go first; Both hoping to go together. As they reach the door of the shoppe, just as the cold is about to sink into their bones, he turns her around and they share the most tragically romantic kiss..

This is the emotion I get from French Post-Impressionism, This is how charcoal used to make me feel. This deep tragic and lonely sense if truly being home, belonging somewhere warm and inviting. Being reminded of it this morning has made today a little less hard. It's less hard because it's a reminder that I must have gotten my love of art from somewhere deeper than exposer to it as a kid. I'm happy to still have these sweetly sad romantic emotions in art, it makes me feel close to my birth family.

I cried all day, and all night, but at least my heart wasn't alone. I love my birth family so truly much. I love knowing art connects me to them on the other side of the world.

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