I don’t think I know a lot about art. More than the average person maybe, but not a special amount. I spend a lot of my time trying to rectify this, and then the rest of my time wondering if I’m tainting my own creativity. It is quite a conflict, but then I remember that I LOVE being with art, almost as much as making it. I should see as much of it as possible.
I stopped in on two exhibitions on bank holiday Monday (both courtesy of my Tate pass). Both were excellent. The Richard Hamilton exhibit is a wonderful collection of mismatched things, lots of art in lots of different ways.
The Matisse cut outs was a wondrous, playful, peaceful, beautiful exhibit. I love that Matisse found a way to continue his art when he could no longer do it in his usual way.
Each piece had a joy to it, a distinct element of craft. He had to rethink colour at every stage and you can see the hand drawn lines on things. It was a very unique way of doing things, in all my years of wandering through art galleries, I haven’t seen anything like it.
They do save the best for last, a gorgeous stained glass window. I would love to have a sun room, with walls covered in his cut outs, and windows filled with his pictures. The whole thing felt how I think art is supposed to feel, when you’re sharing something you love and are passionate about. It felt like that.