At The Art Gallery

Dear Elena

I found this picture of you in my dresser. Do you remember it? It was the summer you had visited me after your graduation. You would visit me every summer those years after Edith had passed away. We became close in compathy; you having lost your mother, and me, my only sister.

The picture was taken at an art exhibition depicting the evolution of western art. Cymroza’s was the only gallery in our town in those days. You were absolutely fascinated by the experience. Later, we had stopped at the café outside and discussed how art styles underwent change corresponding to the cultural movement in respective eras. Every era had a unique style- the manner in which the artist portrayed his subject matter or expressed his vision; the way the artist used form, colour, and composition. Early Medieval paintings dominated by the Church, were largely religious in nature -static, devoid of emotions.  Then the Renaissance era which reflected the idea that man and not fate or God controlled human destiny. Hence the emergence of individual figures, with increased realism of human faces and bodies like the famed Mona Lisa by Da Vinci. Then came Impressionism where artists like Monet and their thin brush strokes, natural lighting, unusual angles became the focus. Impressionism evolved into Expressionism where painters like Munch brought forth emotions of the human heart.

In the dim evening light, I remember feeling sad and comforted at the same time. The realisation struck home that beauty can never be absolute. It is relative, sui generis to the era it represents. Each style was channelled by emotions, imagination and a loving heart. Each held its own, spoke its own language, conveyed its own meaning in a way that spelled perfection for that stage, before evolving into the ensuing one.

That’s what I love about art Elena. Look deeper; always look deeper.
It teaches life skills.

Love,

Aunt Maggie