If Life Were a Painting

Art is in all things and all things are art. There's a painting in the wind-swept puffs of white cloud, in the sky and symphonies in the churning of a brook; beauty is in all things.

Your favorite book: that's literary art. You hate to read: then books just aren't your art. Many consider Catcher In the Rye a classic for all time; but what of the writing style? It's simple and hyperactive; there's nothing "classic" about it. Certainly it's fresh and innovative but nothing in the speech suggests intellectual superiority. In fact, a young child could read Salinger's novel and understand the English quite plainly.

The genius comes from his uncanny ability to effectively portray the thoughts of a scatter-brained young boy without getting too confusing. Salinger showed us that you don't have to use high language to prove a point, just speak in relation to what people want to hear and they will understand. I read Catcher in the Rye the summer before I visited the MoMA in NY with my friend Luke.

I always knew abstract painting was my favorite form of art, ever since I took that art history course on the modern era. One never really comprehends the extent to which a painting will affect you (positively or negatively) until you see it "in person."

I love Van Gogh, his gloppy brushstrokes fill landscapes with some kind of squirming yet slowly moving life force. Everyone likes Starry Night because they see it on propaganda everywhere but the VanGogh painting that lies beside it on the wall at the museum often goes unnoticed. Even I can't recall the title though I'll always remember what it looks like. I couldn't begin to really describe it to you in detail for I'd do it injustice. It's a field of olive trees whose pulsating branches grab my eyes with fierce fists forcing my stare. And this is art, in imperfection.

Rembrandt's self portraits were painted during a period of sharp realism but he went so far as to scratch the end of his brush into the paint, revealing the canvas as much later artists considered more "innovative" did like Cezanne. A close examination of a Rembrandt might disgust a perfectionist like Caravaggio or Vermeer; but if you step back from the painting you see life, movement, and expression with a vivacity that cannot exist within pure copies of reality, "perfect" as they may seem. Only imperfections can reveal inner nature. They say, "he's like a Monet, so pretty from over here, but

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