Randomness of Art

One way to measure wisdom is to be honest with yourself. Take the recognition of art. I ‘ve been to scores of great museums where I’ve viewed some of the world’s greatest works: the Mona Lisa, Starry Night, The Thinker and Night Hawks, to name a few. This is not a great accomplishment. Here is what I remember about the encounters with these priceless paintings and sculptures:

 Mona Lisa—too small, what’s all the hype?
 Starry Night—very blue.
 The Thinker—a professional wrestler.
 Night Hawks—I can relate.
My visits to art museums were not motivated by an inner desire to experience the agony and ecstasy of the artist, but more a function of school class trips, a string of girlfriends and rainy weather. Now, that’s brutal honesty.

This inner sense that lets me know when I see art developed slowly over time and not by choice. I was taught early on that art is in museums to the exclusion of the art that surrounds us every day. There isn’t a date when art became an important part of me—it just happened over time—that’s about as specific as I can get.

Now I see art everywhere and, in particular, I enjoy the randomness of art in how ocean debris is washed up on the beach, how rocks are piled together on the side of a cliff, or the weaving of color in coastline flora.

While I will still pay $10 to go into rooms with art, I like the free stuff better–that’s honesty.