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Dec/Jan 2005 What
You See by Leena Prasad “I really like this one.” “Why?” “I don’t know. But it’s great.” The subject of the discussion, one of my
photographs, was hanging just outside my studio. Thus, I overhead the conversation. I’ve sold several copies of that photograph. It’s a simple composition: a white fire
hydrant on the left, a black grill window on the right, gray sidewalk and gray
walls. And the words “It Felt Like a Kiss”
spray painted across the wall, in bold red strokes. The graffiti that I photographed has been
whitewashed from the wall on 19th Street between Florida and
Portrero in The Mission area of San Francisco.
But the words have dripped into my subconscious mind and onto the walls
of my art studio and into some people’s homes. (I’m writing this column in my studio. Someone just walked in to ask if “It Felt
Like A Kiss,” is my photograph. I love that photograph, he said. Were you the one talking about it earlier?
I asked. No, I just saw it, he said). “So does it belong to you or the person who wrote
those words,” a friend asked. “Well, I took the photograph…” I said, with a
vague uncertainty creeping into my voice.
The words on the wall, the colors, and the scene affected my synapses in
a way that inspired me to capture it all. But, is this my art or does it belong
to the person who spray painted those words?
Did they plan the location, the colors, the affect? Did they also photograph their creation? I
wondered if the person who wrote those words might walk into my studio one day
and claim them back. How would I
respond? Earlier in the day, a woman came into the
studio. “I want to show you something,”
she said. She took me to the photograph
and said, “I have the same photo - in black and white. Would you like to trade?” After she left, the thought crossed my mind
that perhaps many other people have the same photo and where does that place
mine in the art spectrum? These were just some of the thoughts and
experiences that I had at this year’s October Open Studio. Only a few years ago, I was on the other side of
this scene, i.e., a visitor to the studios rather than a ‘resident’
artist. I barely recall being on ‘the
other side,’ tentatively looking at paintings, photographs, sculptures, mixed
media… trying to connect to something, to take something home with me that
would change my life in some small way… But it didn’t happen. Despite the fact that I was devoted to spending at least one day
of each of the four October Open Studio weekends trolling through various
neighborhoods, flexing my art appreciation muscles, I never bought
anything. Maybe that’s why I sought out
a course of study in Visual Arts, to become an artist myself, and to enhance my
visual perceptions. In my art program, I drew for hours, painted for days,
spent frustrating hours with messy clay, struggled with color theory, and also
learned to appreciate the diverse works of my fellow artists. With the help of my classes and with the emotional
openness to my classmates, my taste in art matured and I started to see art
differently. I graduated from a strict
loyalty to only a few select painters and styles to a new appreciation for a
wide variety of artist and styles. I
purchased local artwork at an auction sponsored by Canvas Café. I love these newly acquired pieces but would
probably not have noticed them previous to my self induced art education. As if that wasn’t enough of a departure from my
existence as an ungenerous pseudo art aficionado, I recently embraced a
non-objective painting style, an approach that, a few years ago, I would have
marginalized as beyond my comprehension.
I enjoyed creating these pieces and I take pleasure in viewing them. But
they make me wonder how much more there is there is in this world that I
haven’t yet learned to see… For
comments/complaints/kudos/article ideas/etc., please write to Leena Prasad at
art@WeAreNotAmused.com |
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