What is art? Is it something beautiful or something intriguing? Or somewhere in the middle? Art fascinates me. It inspires me. But why is art always thought of as visual, like a painting or a drawing? A piece of creativity that you can prove is art. When you think of someone who is artistic, you think of someone who uses colours and mixes them into their own representation of the world. Artists are creators, but not all creators are artists. Does that then mean that artists are superior? I concur, I think that art is subjective. Not everyone likes or dislikes the same work of art. I think that art is in almost everything, though, even in things that seem inherently uncreative like writing because everyone can do it. Not everyone can paint, draw well or take good photographs. You cannot argue, however, that there is not skill in writing.
You can only tell if a piece of writing is good or not if you actually read it, and reading takes more effort and patience than looking at something. Otherwise, to the untrained eye, it looks like a bunch of words. There is no room for error in a visual representation of art because mistakes are easy to spot. But I think that art is a synonym for skill. Art is a weird subject to talk about, especially when sometimes what is considered art, really shouldn’t be. For example, paintings of squares. A 5-year-old could paint that. And those paintings of squares go for a lot of money. I don’t know, I guess it could be considered #aesthetic, but I don’t really see the appeal. Paint it yourself if you really want different coloured squares up on the walls of your home. It’s ridiculous. You could splatter paint on a page these days and BAM *art*. I don’t understand. But maybe art isn’t meant to be understood. It makes no sense.
What is art to you?
Autumn, there is one thing I know for sure. You are art itself. You are the canvas on which nature can paint. The morning mist caresses the trees, blessing them with soft golden brown hues, vibrant purples and cherry reds where every leaf is a flower. But you are not just visual art, you are also felt by the senses and deep within our souls. Autumn, you are the scent of cinnamon on my morning coffee, the smell of rain on the ground and the sickly sweet taste of caramel. You are the sound of fallen leaves crushing under my shoes and the warmth of a coat as the cool breeze brushes against my skin. You hold emotional power, autumn, and it feels wonderful. It feels like a grand finale before the year is up. You feel like home. Maybe, after all, home isn’t just a place with four walls… it’s a sort of fondness and understanding. And I like it that way. It’s special. Autumn, you have been hiding away all year round and now you are free so don’t be timid about it. I find myself breathing you in more than usual, in an attempt to fill myself up with what seems like a dream.
Photo Credit: Jonathan Pendleton