I’ve always had an odd relationship with the visual arts. I enjoy visiting museums, there are a few illustration blogs I pay attention to, and there is even a short list of artists who I consider my favorites above all others. That said, I’ve never been especially skilled at “understanding” the art that I so enjoy looking at. While I cannot honestly say that I feel I “understand” painting anymore than I did before visiting the galleries in Chelsea, or the Museum of Modern Art, neither experience was in any way an intellectual waste of time.
Like most of my classmates, I quite enjoyed the Kim Dorland exhibit. I think the main reason his art resonated with me so strongly was because of the way it lent itself so easily to a narrative. I have found that the art I enjoy the most is frequently the art that, in its own limited way, tells a story, or at the very least inspires a story within me. His depiction of life in rural Canada was potent, without being overbearing. There was a certain amount of subtlety in the artwork; we, the viewers, are not beaten over the head with Dorland’s narrative.
Speaking more technically, one could attribute the potency of Dorland’s images to his use of color as a means of creating drama and tension. Unlike some of the other works we viewed on our tour of the Chelsea galleries, Dorland’s paintings were vibrant, and added real emotion to the pieces.
At the Museum of Modern Art, I found myself attracted to another vibrantly colorful (if monochromatic) piece: Barnett Newman’s Vir Heroicus Sublimis. According to our guide, Ms. Joan Pancher, the piece was separated according to a mathematical concept known as the “golden section”. This piece of information made me appreciate the painting more—the painting no longer seemed to be a meaningless, arbitrary non-statement. Now it had a purpose, a purpose that I could respond to and understand. I also found it remarkable how Newman used color in such an intense fashion that even staring at the painting for a few seconds (up close, as the artist intended) made my eyes vibrate. I had never really considered the possibility that such a seemingly bland slab of red could contain so much life.
