Love Is A Battle Field…

He pulls away you latch on more,
The unknown is painful your past wounds are sore.

Not knowing if you’re worthy or enough,
The sea is rocky the storm is tough.

In no mans land without a map,

Do you keep trudging forward or do you head back?

This intensity you feel deep down inside,
do you sit with it,embrace it or run for cover and hide?

Those deep brown eyes that see into my soul,
That warm embrace that makes me feel whole,

Am I holding onto a rose that can’t be revived?
Do I power through this storm hoping it will subside?

Is what he feels for me the same as what I feel for him?
Standing on the edge but too nervous to swim.
Hostile freezing waters what lies within?

Is it time to cut the anchor, to break away from the chain?
That is strangling and shackling, my strength I need to regain.

My inner power is screaming, desperate for release,
The sea ready to swallow me, ready for my decease.

Do I sink or swim, do I fight or fly?
Will my power save me or will my fear let me die?

But the moment I hear his voice that strength becomes weak,
In that second he opens his mouth to speak.

He holds my hands, looks into my heart, all my intentions, my promises break apart.

Navigating no mans land I continue to roam, trying to find my map to lead me home.

Art Review- Vincent Van Gogh, Painting in the open air.

  

Vincent Van Gogh’s paintings exist today as spontaneous outpourings of his creative energy, and his Starry Night is certainly no exception. I was fortunate enough to view this painting firsthand, whilst on a trip to Amsterdam, and can truly say was left mesmerised by the way the artist looked at nature. I was fascinated at how brilliantly he juxtaposed loud and vibrant shades of orange, yellow and red with cold whites and blues, resulting in his paintings displaying great intensity.

Vincent  began painting subdued landscapes in the mid-1880s under the influence of the Barbizon School; the group of plein air painters who are sometimes seen as the precursors to the Impressionists. The viewer is immedietly drawn to the work as the sky and stars pulsate with aureoles of white, green or blue scrolling from left to right across the canvas, moving as the swells of ocean waves towards the crescent moon in its halo of yellow in the corner. The moon and stars hit you as un earthly balls glowing in an orange-yellow light, meanwhile the clouds have begun to whirl into a backdrop of night excitement. Between hills and the sky a band of light green brushstrokes may represent mist rising from the earth after the heat of the day, marking the movement of the picture that is ineffectually checked only by the tip of the church steeple just breaching the line of blue hills, and by the mass of deep green cypresses in the foreground that writhe upward ‘like tongues of fire.’ All nature is in turmoil but still the village sleeps unawares below. [1]

‘Starry Night’ proclaimes its status as a forerunner of both the Fauve and Expressionist movements in 20th-century art. As you arrive at the strange yet hypnotic masterpiece it feels like a summation, as though the whole exhibition has been building up to the climactic moment when we catch our first glimpse of it hanging in the distance. Every millimetre of the canvas is given equal visual weight in terms of the intensity of the colour, dynamic movement, and paint texture. The things of the earth (fields, trees and buildings) merge with those of the sky (clouds, sun, moon and stars). Yet, it still remains unclear whether Van Gogh intended the picture to be read as a pantheistic celebration of the natural world, a wild vision of a universe in chaos, or a bitter reflection on the indifference of nature to man and all his works. ‘Not only is there nothing else quite like it within Van Gogh’s own work, there is nothing else like it in art.’

Another painting I found myself drawn to ‘Cypresses’ had been cleverly placed beside ‘Starry Sky’ proving as a poignant comparison. It is tempting to see these pictures (one at daytime, the other night) as a reflection of the artist’s lighter and darker moods. “Cypresses” suggests joy and living in the moment whereas “The Starry Night” tends to reinforce the feeling that for him life was somewhere else. The two paintings set together in this intimate setting invites viewers to slow down, and look closely at the artworks.

One leaves the exhibition not only fascinated but also intrigued into the extremely complex mind of such a lost soul. As I found myself wandering amongst the views of Arles countryside, to the gardens of the asylum at St Remy where he spent his final days, I felt a sense of longing to transcend back to his time and tell him what a phenomenon he has now become. It is incredible to think that he only sold one painting during his lifetime, if only he knew what his works were to become, perhaps this tortured genius would have hung on a little longer.

[1] Richard Dorment

Art Review- Wivenhoe Park, Essex. John Constable

The artist’s idyllic depiction of this British landscape, Wivenhoe Park, Essex portrays the artist’s instinct for truthful observation and desire to capture particular sensations created by nature[1]. A sense of freedom radiates here in the serenity of the rolling countryside, with the crystal clear water in the foreground, and cluster of trees in the background, which neatly frame the piece. Originality for him, meant speaking in his own voice directly from his own experience of nature, and he did not want to imitate ‘the language and voice of others’[2], but to paint from reality. Nevertheless, his decision to depict this pleasant scene was a great one, as he has opened up his small world to the viewer, one that is magical and tranquil, forever to be admired.

The painting depicts the quiet atmosphere of a typical day in the park. The spectator is drawn to the herd of cattle, casually grazing on the fresh meadows in the front left corner. Perhaps Constable is acquainting us with the idea of the park as a place of functionality as well as pleasure, as it seems to unify purposes of both ‘idealism and utility’[3]. The two figures in a rowing boat fishing on the lake highlight this point, but also seem to remind the viewer of the simple joy and recreation that nature can bring, as that ‘gentle and unreproaching friend’[4] whom Constable felt passionately about, and shared an intimate relationship with. The sparkling reflection of the calm blue sky and trees in the still pool of water, shown by flecks and strokes of light grey colour add to the immobility of the scene, as two swans sit gracefully on the surface, animating the picture as they bask in the afternoon delight of the country air. The artist’s soft brush strokes on the cool lake enhance this, whilst his great execution of small details, such as the cows and people emphasizes the harmony between humanity and nature. The unity between the creatures and objects inhabiting this land, and the natural elements of light and air, provide the piece with such clarity making you want to become a part of it. These qualities of ‘ bloom and freshness’[5] were what the artist referred to as the ‘chiaroscuro of nature’[6], embodying nature truthfully which he believed ‘was the most important spiritual source of his pictorial originality’[7]. Here he has fulfilled his ‘sentiment of landscape’[8] affecting the viewer’s emotions through his work. His use of light and form were deeply involved with his sense of reality and feelings, and this was something, which was to carry on throughout his profession and gain control over his works.[9]

The countryside of Southern England where he grew up became the heart of many of Constable’s works, in his desire to portray it from true feelings, and struggle to convince critics of its inherent significance. Arguably ‘England’s greatest landscape painter’[10], he has had profound influence upon people’s responses to the natural world, and can be said that he has been treated as a spokesman for England just ‘like Shakespeare and Dickens through their writings’[11]. His natural chiaroscuro of landscape could transform the significance of any place, however ‘common or inconsequential it might have been’[12], and his exceptional artistic methods, which defied the confines of any one approach created the honesty in his works that he truly desired. His Wivenhoe Park, Essex (1816) clearly ‘vibrates with the verdant essence of the countryside’[13] and reveals the profound connection he felt to the rural pleasures of the landscape, which will forever be christened as ‘Constable country’. [14]

[1] Basil, Taylor ‘Constable Paintings, drawings and watercolour’ (phaidon) 1973 p20

[2] Taylor p22

[3] ‪Karen. Jones, John Wills ‘The invention of the park: recreational landscapes from the Garden of den …’ (Policy Press) 2005 p32

[4] Taylor p26

[5] Taylor p26

[6] ‪James A. W. Heffernan ‘Cultivating picturacy: visual art and verbal interventions’  (Baylor University Press) 2006 p146

[7] ‪John E. Thornes, John Constable ‘John Constable’s skies: a fusion of art and science’ (University of Birmingham Press) 1999 p112

[8] Taylor p 27

[9] Anne, Lyles ‘Constable: The Great Landscapes (Tate Publishing) 2006 p121

[10] Thornes p1

[11] Taylor p21

[12] Taylor p26

[13] Heather Goss, ‘The Green Seen’: Head For Art 30.03.2010 http://www.headforart.com/2010/03/30/the-green-seen/(accessed 12.11.11)

[14] Gadney p20

ArT iS tHe CuRe!

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Can a walk be considered a work of art?

If I do not walk, I cannot make a work of art- Hamish Fulton

The British countryside has for centuries, been a source of inspiration for artists, writers, poets and musicians, and even those who simply want to escape the stresses of every day of life. A road or path can be a quiet companion, it does not judge or ask questions but invites you to clear your mind. Throughout British history country walks through the natural landscapes have provided a haven for Romantics such as Wordsworth, and a comfort for artists such as Constable. Today this view still remains; the countryside can be that oasis in the desert,  giving clarity, and soothing the soul. The event differs for each person; its nature is subjective which is what seems to make each walk a work of art in its own way; a stroll down a country lane will no doubt be different to the ramble up the mountains of The Lakes District.

Whilst is can be said that the art of a walk is the experience between man and nature, many would argue that the camaraderie shared with fellow walkers as they make their way together is what makes this popular hobby so special. The satisfaction of reaching the top of a mountain is an extraordinary feeling, as one looks out to the vast scenery around them.  There is something truly refreshing about the breathtaking views surrounding you, and the fresh crisp mountain air hitting your lungs. Furthermore this spiritually refreshing moment is certainly unique when experiencing it with friends of a similar mindset. The transcendent beauty of nature can liberate the walker from their problems, often giving them new eyes in seeing a solution. It makes room for new ‘thoughts of more deep seclusion.’

A road or a path does not judge, it does not ask questions or tell you no, it is that silent companion you need to let you self reflect. A walk is a subjective experience, there is no right or wrong way to go, you are the artist, and the walk is your canvas; you decide how long it will last, or which route you want to take. A walk allows for originality and initiative. A walk is what the walker makes it, in the same way that when admiring a canvas; the reactions of the spectator are never the same.

For the great British poet William Wordsworth, there was nothing more invigorating or inspiring than the rural simplicity of the British countryside. To him, the external world hinted at a greater spiritual reality, trying to communicate as one with creation, trees were unique symbols, and rocks and stones had their own hidden language, and mountains mysterious statements. This was the spirit of nature; this was a true work of art. His many poems were the byproduct of nature’s profound effect upon his very being, this ‘sense sublime’ that became his muse, lending him the material to create his meditative and philosophical works. The Lake District where he lived, was charged with a celestial significance, unharmed by machines of modernity, only touched by the tracks of man and his dog hiking the hills and vales absorbing the organic splendor of its meandering valleys and glistening lakes.

The High Line  public park in New York City, that has been developed on an historic freight rail line elevated above the streets on Manhattan’s West Side, and was founded to preserve the land from demolition. It runs for 1.45 miles, and has transformed an essential piece of the city’s industrial past, into a place where residents and tourists can escape from the busy streets. What makes this walk a work of art is that whilst strolling along the elevated walkway, one can gaze out to the famous city skyline, viewing it from a different perspective. As the path winds it way through the different neighborhoods of lower Manhattan it follows the diverse architecture of high -rise buildings. This experience itself is perhaps similar to a tour of a modern art gallery, with even the benches that sit along the path, reminding the visitor of a modern day sculpture.

Wordsworth strongly argued that too often is ‘our meddling intellect’ found guilty, in its constant digging for deeper meanings. Yet when walking through the countryside, this relentless need of man to analyze and judge seems to disappear, allowing one to appreciate the wholesome pleasure of their surroundings; ‘how Sweet is the lore which Nature brings’. So frequently today we find ourselves over analyzing the details of our daily lives, scrutinizing our every action. Similarly, works of art are too closely examined, and a painting can become a mundane analysis drained of all its aesthetic beauty. Instead of celebrating the work of art, ‘we misshape the beauteous form of things…we murder to dissect’. Instead he seems to be saying that we should appreciate the pure beauty of something for what it is. Walking encouraged the seeds of his imagination to sprout to life, and it can do the same for us.

Today we so often find ourselves caught up in new technology with our Iphones, Ipads, ipods and laptops, people dont even read real books anymore thanks to the kindle. Perhaps revelling in nature will remind us what pure happiness is, and that in itself for me is art.