SO I NEED MORE ART CLASSES

I've always loved art. I've just never had the nerve to take a class where I might be a painter or a drawer. See, I do need help.

I had one in junior college and really liked it. Art Appreciation, that is. And I do appreciate art and the effort involved. But I feel there's so much more I should be getting out of viewing. (How easily I transitioned from my creating art to my viewing.) There's much more there than I got from a class forty years ago.

At least I think there is. In the picture at the left I see a pink flower with a deep orange bulb. What is the perspective? From above, I assume. What is the flower sitting in? I'm puzzled.

And then I search for deeper meaning. Is that really a small head that it's emerging from? Why? What is that saying? What is the title of the piece? Creation? A Beautiful Thought?

Then I look at color. What's unique, what's bold, or what's emphasized? Why those colors? Are they in the same prismatic family? Ok, I never had that thought.

Might I discern meaning later? Will it grow on me? Will it look good, uh, where?

Maybe that's why literature was more appealing. I could get most of it without having to analyze, to look for deeper meaning, to try to see what something concrete stood for and what it might mean in a different setting. I think I just conflicted myself. Art and literature are just about the same.

Maybe that's why I chaired the Language Arts Department at MTV High for 15 years. And, many times, didn't know what I was doing.