Saturday, April 16, 2005
Details
I don't know a lot about Vincent Van Gogh, but I do know that it is not pronounced "Van Go". What I DO know about him is that he was an expert in the details of the life that he saw. One of my favorite songs in this entire world is called "Vincent" by Don Mclean, which is a tribute to this great painter, and as I listen to this song, I think not only about the details of Van Gogh's colorful world which he recorded for mankind on canvas and the reality of his life, sadly tragic, but I think of my own life's details. An artist, like Van Gogh...a TRUE artist...puts his whole emotion in his art..."how you tried to set them free", play the words of the song. Even though my medium was different (I don't paint), I know that the emotion I put into my art...a.k.a. my life...is everything. Without that simple, single detail...emotion...there would never be a painting worth looking at, a song worth hearing, or a life worth living.
Personally, my details are all I remember, because for me, it's not the general memories that I cherish as much as the small pieces of those memories, tucked inside the deepest part of my mind...the color of Grammy's hair, the smell of Dad's aftershave, the way my mother made icing roses on the little tool that looks like a great big nail. If I could put these things on canvas, perhaps, because they are MY memories, they would not be appreciated by the world outside of myself, just as Van Gogh's paintings weren't appreciated during his lifetime, but the portraits created are beautiful to the artist who paints them, just as my life is beautiful to me. It hasn't been an easy life, in fact it's been rather difficult at times...(anyone who thinks his life is easy is the village idiot)...but it has been and will continue to be interesting. Actually, honestly, I would like to think that I will only become more eccentric as I get older...I like eccentric people because they are the ones whose details in life have colored their personalities with splashes of boldness and offbeat wisdom. Listen to them, because they are the ones who KNOW. Really.
My mother was a painter once. Her arthritis prevents her from picking up a brush now, but some of her paintings will always be cherished by those who love them the most. She will never be famous for her portraits, even though on occasion, she made money with them, but the truth about her talent speaks through a portrait she painted of me as a child. I was about three years old...pigtails, in a black jumper with little white and pink flowers...My mother painted it because she loved me, and in loving me, she caught the impish little gleam in my eye. It is me. It is still me, and anyone who sees the portrait knows it. That painting caught one of my details, and in doing so, became one of my details...one of the things that makes me ME.
My grandmother was NOT a fine artist, but one of her works of art has become another of my details. I would sit at her little spinnett piano during my early music years, and would gaze endlessly at her golden toy-tree (actually its difficult to put a name to it). It was a styrofoam cone attached to a lazy Susan with little toys glued to it...barbie shoes, shells, things collected in Cracker Jacks boxes of old...and the entire thing was spray painted gold. An atrocious knick-knack even to the untrained eye. Even though later on the piano and music became the largest part of my life, it is not the piano that I remember the most, because the piano in itself would be a generality. It is the toy-tree on TOP of Grammy's piano that became the important detail, and I love that tree. That tree was Grammy...eclectic and fun, not necessarily attractive, but symbolic.
I will continue to place those details in my life, to remember them, to live them, to be them. I would like my life to show the color and light that I have seen just as Van Gogh's paintings show the color and light that he saw. I probably won't chop off my ear or commit suicide, but I have done some things that I'm not proud of, and because those things are a part of my details, I will add a little gray to the cerulean. Everything counts. And in the end...when my life is over, I would like for my children, and the people who knew me to look at what I've left...the details of my life...and be proud to say that they were a part of it.
Personally, my details are all I remember, because for me, it's not the general memories that I cherish as much as the small pieces of those memories, tucked inside the deepest part of my mind...the color of Grammy's hair, the smell of Dad's aftershave, the way my mother made icing roses on the little tool that looks like a great big nail. If I could put these things on canvas, perhaps, because they are MY memories, they would not be appreciated by the world outside of myself, just as Van Gogh's paintings weren't appreciated during his lifetime, but the portraits created are beautiful to the artist who paints them, just as my life is beautiful to me. It hasn't been an easy life, in fact it's been rather difficult at times...(anyone who thinks his life is easy is the village idiot)...but it has been and will continue to be interesting. Actually, honestly, I would like to think that I will only become more eccentric as I get older...I like eccentric people because they are the ones whose details in life have colored their personalities with splashes of boldness and offbeat wisdom. Listen to them, because they are the ones who KNOW. Really.
My mother was a painter once. Her arthritis prevents her from picking up a brush now, but some of her paintings will always be cherished by those who love them the most. She will never be famous for her portraits, even though on occasion, she made money with them, but the truth about her talent speaks through a portrait she painted of me as a child. I was about three years old...pigtails, in a black jumper with little white and pink flowers...My mother painted it because she loved me, and in loving me, she caught the impish little gleam in my eye. It is me. It is still me, and anyone who sees the portrait knows it. That painting caught one of my details, and in doing so, became one of my details...one of the things that makes me ME.
My grandmother was NOT a fine artist, but one of her works of art has become another of my details. I would sit at her little spinnett piano during my early music years, and would gaze endlessly at her golden toy-tree (actually its difficult to put a name to it). It was a styrofoam cone attached to a lazy Susan with little toys glued to it...barbie shoes, shells, things collected in Cracker Jacks boxes of old...and the entire thing was spray painted gold. An atrocious knick-knack even to the untrained eye. Even though later on the piano and music became the largest part of my life, it is not the piano that I remember the most, because the piano in itself would be a generality. It is the toy-tree on TOP of Grammy's piano that became the important detail, and I love that tree. That tree was Grammy...eclectic and fun, not necessarily attractive, but symbolic.
I will continue to place those details in my life, to remember them, to live them, to be them. I would like my life to show the color and light that I have seen just as Van Gogh's paintings show the color and light that he saw. I probably won't chop off my ear or commit suicide, but I have done some things that I'm not proud of, and because those things are a part of my details, I will add a little gray to the cerulean. Everything counts. And in the end...when my life is over, I would like for my children, and the people who knew me to look at what I've left...the details of my life...and be proud to say that they were a part of it.
