March 22nd, 2014

art, collage

Largely about art generally & Chagall specifically

This happens all the time (mostly on reality shows, where I see/hear random people from other parts of the country and/or from other socioeconomic and/or educational and/or generational backgrounds) and it bugs me: someone does something "crazy" — be it an emotional outburst, an irrational belief, or whatever — and another person says offhandedly, "I don't know if she's bipolar or what!" Annoying. "Bipolar" doesn't mean "irrational" or "insane." But, then, people constantly misuse the term "schizophrenic," too.

Today I hung out with Lisa, and I wasn't feeling well physically (nausea and headache), but we had a great conversation for something like two hours, all about art (this was mostly me) and propositional logic (this was mostly her), and we goth got very into both, and it was really cool.

We talked a bunch about Chagall. His name came up for roundabout reasons (having to do with trying to come up with something to do on the Saturday after my birthday, next week), and I said how much I disliked his style, which I referred to as "mushy," as the colors tend to get all mushed together & spread out all over the place in weird ways. She said she really likes his blue windows some place in Chicago, and so we looked up some pictures online & I actually did like them. I told her I'd hated the ceiling at the Paris opera house, and so we looked that up, too, and I found that I see it a lot differently than I did when I visited there ... probably nearly 20 years ago. I still find his style "mushy," but in an interesting way. He doesn't color inside the lines, literally. I still don't like the child-like way he draws people, but I find his use of color intriguing.

I've had this happen before, sometimes with art & sometimes with books: I hate something at one point, then love it at some later time in my life. Jane Austen was like that for me, as well as van Gogh.

The Chagall stuff resonated with me because it reminded me of some stuff I've been feeling about my own art. It doesn't look even remotely similar, but it provoked some of the same emotions in me. I've been really exploring in my own art this last year, painting outside my own metaphorical lines, and that intrigues me in the same way Chagall's opera ceiling does.

Lisa and I are trying to go out to afternoon tea next week, but we've left it a bit too late & it looks like everywhere might be booked up. Ah well. We can always have our celebration a week or two later. Katherine & Jay & I often don't get together to do our traditional birthday lunch (Katherine & I both have birthdays in March, so we usually have a joint birthday lunch) until April or May.

Anyway, my nausea has been terrible today & I"m feeling really sick now, so I'm going to go lie down & play some Ascension on Shannon's iPad & try to ignore my entire gastrointestinal system.