Thank you for art...

When I was a kid, my large family piled in a big blue van and hit the road each summer, towing our Apache pop-up camper across the United States and Canada. During these camping trips, we learned about nature and played in the dirt. But, more importantly, we visited and learned about the nearby destinations of each campground: bustling diverse cities, small historic communities, natural wonders, and famous landmarks. We saw people who thought differently than us, talked differently from us, dressed and lived differently from us, and maybe even looked different from us.

Mom and Dad pointed out historical markers, old forts, and note-worthy settings. We visited local festivals, art museums and galleries, science museums, aquariums, gardens and greenhouses, and zoos.

I saw art from the famous and not so famous. I saw art expressing calm and quiet moments of peace, and art that grew from protests and was deemed seditious or instigated turmoil. There was art that captured the simplest day-to-day tasks to art that captured historical moments of change and universal concepts. I saw art that captured moments in time which remind present and future generations of the good and bad of those moments: from joyous moments of childbirth and celebrations of life to the horrors of slavery and war.

And everywhere Mom and Dad made a point of teaching us about the artists and their different cultures, communities and histories. I learned what made different communities unique and special and sometimes what their best moments and worst moments were. But in learning all that, more importantly, I learned how much all people have in common.

That shaped me. I could never express my gratitude to my parents enough for giving me that. I learned so much. But today it occurred to me how much my love of art came from those experiences and how those experiences shape how I look at art.

Today, I went to a gallery walk and saw a couple different artists’ work. First I went to the opening of a 30-year retrospective of Roxanne Frith’s photography. Much of her work is in portraits. I love seeing inside the people in the photos, to their thoughts and feelings. It’s there; captured in the moment but seems to be more than just that moment. Then I went to another gallery and saw work by Janet Smith in encaustic wax, oil paint, raku fired stoneware, and some mixed media. Beautiful, full, with little hidden stories in each piece. There’s a richness of tone and texture and warmth; a contrast of strength and vulnerability.

Today, I remembered how Mom and Dad helped me to look at art and to appreciate it, but also to ask about the artist, the time, the period, and the influences. I crave the knowledge of the people, the history, and the cultures.

As I know the artists from today’s excursion, I feel incredibly lucky and like I have an incredible opportunity to continue down this road. As I know the artists, I can bug them. So now, poor Roxanne and Janet don’t know it yet… but I have so many questions for them. Oh Roxanne! Hey Janet! Let’s hook up some time soon. I’ll call you.

I still seek to know what’s behind the art as I think it is in art and through art that we can see ourselves and our common humanity. Thanks Mom and Dad and thanks to artists everywhere.