“So art, tell me why you like it”

Today I was introduced to a completely new person. This is no complex analogy or anything; I simply met someone new. One of the first conversations we engaged in was one that completely caught me by surprise. They said, “So art, tell me why you like it”. Such a simple sentence with a response that could be given in an inexhaustible amount of ways.

Coming off the back of undoubtedly one of the most difficult months of my life, I have not had much motivation to think about art as a whole. In fact, I must admit in shame that I have spent the past month on transfer applications for school. This only comes with shame because of the lack of attention I have given to my work; to my true work. The only time my fingers have danced across a keyboard or I’ve put pen to paper were to take notes or write essays. I haven’t conjured up any abstract sketches of The Beatles or myself lately. The truth in this all is that I haven’t been as kind to myself as I could be. Perhaps, as I faced the world seemingly trying to push me down, I opted to mull over it all rather than take the right steps to do better. As I briefly mentioned in my piece on the romanticization of mental illness in art, during the darkest moments of our lives there is a long shadow cast upon any vision we have for artwork.

I can confidently say that I feel better now than I did a month ago. I recently went back to working on an article I plan to post about misogyny in art history, and I even did some light sketching the other night. In this, I return to the point: why I like art.

I enjoy art because even when life is not going as anticipated, I can look to it as a constant. Sure, constructing art myself can be more difficult in a time of adversity, but the admiration of art is arguably just as fulfilling. The idea of someone creating something entirely unique as a result of their circumstances can sometimes fill in the blanks my puzzled thoughts leave so very often. In fact, art is comforting in this way. When I run out of words to speak, or I simply feel no need to find them, I can always find comfort in the expression of those before me. In continuation of this, here are a few pieces that bring me comfort.

Boulevard des Capucines, Monet, 1873-84

I first stumbled upon this piece when searching for a background for my phone. I knew I wanted something that embodied warmth. After all, I would be looking at it for several hours of the day on my screen. In some unique way, the grayish tones of the painting bring that sense of warmth for me. Maybe it is all the people, maybe it is the idea of coming home after a long day out in the snow. I will forever be fascinated by the way that Monet is able to capture the very essence of a crowd in a few tightly arranged brushstrokes.

Our Favorite Place, Harley Weir, 2020

This photograph is a bit obscure, but it was featured in the June/July 2020 issue of Vogue. I am not exactly sure why I am so drawn to this piece, one can even say it is rather simple. In contrast to my last example, this can be seen as under-stimulating. However, I can say with confidence that it is incredibly special to me. As I eagerly skimmed through magazines for my Accidental Muse piece, I immediately stopped upon discovering this photo. My first thought was that it was a unique take on Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss, and an excellent one at that. It has hung above my workspace on my inspiration wall since the moment I first stumbled upon it.

John and Paul, Linda McCartney, 1968

We have arrived at my final example of a piece that gives me comfort. It does not need much explanation, as it captures two of the greatest artists of all time in a very pure moment. Paul McCartney once said, “Just seeing the joy between us here really helped me, because it reminds me that the idea we weren’t friends is rubbish. We were lifelong friends, our relationship was super-special.” Nothing has brought me more comfort in my life and in the past month than the music of The Beatles. There is a song for every occasion one could attend and every emotion they could experience.

It is lovely to be able to bring another piece to anyone who scrolls through my blog. I apologize for my absence and thank you endlessly for taking the time to read!

Written by Julius Miller