I have made many, many attempts since college to read “Spirituality in Art” by Kandinsky. I could never get through it. Even though it was translated from Russian, it still seemed as if it was written in a foreign language to me. Last night, I picked it up again for the umpteenth time. I thought since I’m now up to my ears in abstracts, that maybe, just maybe it would make more sense to me. To my delight, it did…a little. The point that I took away from the few pages that I read really struck me. He was talking about how each time art is produced, it’s a very unique creation. No matter how we try to copy an artist and their style, the reproduction will lack the soul that was there when the original was created in that brief window in time. So, while I chewed on that, I also thought about what my abstract teacher said to me earlier in the day. She asked me, “Where does your art come from?” I couldn’t answer. Then she said, “That’s because you don’t know, none of us know, and that’s a little scary.”
I have to agree. When I finish a painting and I look at it, it seems as though someone else did it. It came from another place. I’m amazed at its presence as it sits before me and I ask, “Where did you come from?” The painting above, “Density” was painted after I learned my long time neighbor had sold her house and would be moving soon. I was very sad and a bit teary eyed as I painted this. I wasn’t focused on the painting. I was focused on my strong emotion. I’m not sure how that factors in but it was a nice result despite the unpleasant feelings that brought it.
I would suppose art comes from that very seed that set the whole universe in motion. It bursts to life when we call on it, and each work is unique just like every creation. I feel so very lucky to be able to create art and share it.