Heartsong Studio

This Fresh Horses is a slight departure from my usual style of article. This is a true fable, assembled from real incidents. Only some of the names have been changed to protect us all.
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Irene told Ken that since the kids had gone off to college, she thought they could afford to buy a good piece of art to go on the wall above the couch.

Ken searched the attic and uncovered the painting that used to be in his college dorm. He showed Irene the “Sacred Heart”, with the circle of lifelike flowers under the heart with drops of blood
falling on them.

“The drops of blood sort of pick up the burgundy flecks in the couch pattern”, she replied. Then she winced slightly and turned away.

“What do you have in mind ?” he asked. “Well, you know, real art. Something that expresses what’s
important to our family. You know. . . like . . .well. . . good art.”

So they visited a Prestigious Gallery in the city. The featured artist was J.P.Hodgens. The paintings were all very sunny. There was a thatched cottage surrounded by flowers; a sweet, old fashioned, cobblestone street scene; a landscape filled with lollipop trees replete with flowers; bright sunsets.

The gallery owner told them that Hodgens’ life was dedicated to giving light to everyone. Hasn’t he captured the wondrous light in everything ! Such a positively uplifting message to gift to the world. What talent !

Irene was polite, but wanted to think about it.
Later, Ken consulted the reference section in the library. Under “Artists - J.P.Hodgens”, he found the style listed as - “kitsch”.  He’d have to learn a little more about art.

Next, Ken asked a few people outside the university what they thought real art was.
“Art is what artists make,” said one lady. “Real art is art with a capital A,” said another. One man said, “Art is what has perfect composition, perspective, and colour scheme.” “Art is whatever
makes you happy !” said a student.

So he visited a third grade teacher friend during recess. There were colourful finger paintings on the wall. “Is this real art ?” he asked of one striking painting. “No,” said the teacher. “Real art is made by an adult, and doesn’t have these swirls and all
these colours.”

“Could I buy this ?” asked Ken. He did, and had it framed and took it home.  Irene looked, but wrinkled her nose. It joined the Sacred Heart in the attic.

Then Ken stopped by another place with a sign out front saying “SALE of ART”. He hurried home with this new purchase. “Here is ‘Girl with a Pearl Earring’,” he said. “It’s an original.”

“No, it’s not. It’s a feeble imitation of a Vermeer.”
“It’s an original by Dubruff. It’s signed by the artist.”

Ken and Irene took a trip to Florence, Italy to see some real art.  They were mesmerized by Michelangelo’s statue of David. So were hundreds of tourists crowded in the square.

There were market stalls with t-shirts emblazoned with prints of David; shorts with just David’s small marble “member” printed on the front; and aprons too. They came home empty-handed.

Last, Ken visited a modern gallery in the village, to see an exhibit of I.M.Hipp. It was a daring exhibit with hundreds of paintings lining the walls. The artist had dedicated his time to painting the date in white upon a black canvas.

Ken gazed at “24 July 1964″ with nostalgia. Also “10 August 1980 ” caught his eye. He thought how much kinship he felt with everyone in the world, really. Every day of who knows how many years, all passing for everyone, and recorded the same.

Then, the inspiration came to Ken in a flash. He would make a painting for Irene himself. He bought a canvas, and painted the picture.

In great expectation and trepidation, he took it down to show her with a cloth cover for the unveiling. . .
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How would you describe the picture you imagine Ken painted for his wife ?
What kind of art would satisfy Irene ?

With tongue ‘firmly removed from cheek’, what is your answer to the question:  “What is Art ?”
Wishing you satisfying art explorations, free of jargon and academic “correctness”,

Celeste Varley