I went camping this weekend with a few friends. We stayed up near Duluth at Tettegouche State Park, right on the Lake Superior shoreline. I am currently in a class called, simply, "Color". Being in this class has afforded me a heightened awareness of color and what it is doing to the world around me. It is hard to paint you a picture with words of what I saw while camping...Two colors that I felt flooded my world this weekend were green and violet. What kind of colors are they? Everyone, in unison now: COOL colors. Very calming. My friend pointed out something as we were driving up north. Perhaps this is something that all of you have noted before, but I didn't really realize how we were stepping back in time as we headed north, in a way, to an earlier time in spring. I thought this was a lovely thought. Perhaps if we kept driving, we would never need to say goodbye to the sweet time of spring, when the colors are so fresh and bold. The yellow-green of the birch trees, with their white trunks gave way to a sky filled with chromatic violets...and then you walk near a birch tree, and you see the pealing bark that reveals a soft sunrise of colors. I greedily spent my weekend looking for these bits of bark along the path, the smooth driftwood that washed up on the shore, and memories of the colors that surrounded me. My mind swam with dreams of using these things in my art. Nature is, without a doubt, one of the most important sources of inspiration for my art. I have to admit, however, that sometimes this thing that I am studying (art) seems terribly and absolutely redundant. Art? Why on earth would I think I have any right to speak for nature, to translate, or take ownership of it in my artwork? Doesn't it speak for itself on a level that I will never be able to speak without stumbling terribly over my words?
The picture I have posted was taken by my mother a few days ago. Robin eggs sit nestled in her empty flower pot...their blue not even done justice by Crayola's Robin Egg's Blue. Sigh...
I think you can represent or interpret nature without claiming to take ownership of it. In fact, as an inspiration for art seems like one of the most sustainable and therefore least arrogant and destructive ways in which we "use" nature. The way you see any aspect of nature is unique to you, it is your vision and independent of anyone else's reaction, even if they happen to witness the same scene. Why wouldn't you want to share what natural beauty means to you? Maybe you'll inspire someone to appreciate it the way you do, and, if we're to have any chance of survival, seek to protect it.
ReplyDeleteNice writing, Jenna. Way to put me in the car with you and your friend (in an unstalker-y way) Just saying.
ReplyDeleteI'm going to have to agree with Miss Amy on this one. Your description of the colors on your drive was an impressive and beautiful representation of your knowledge of a more traditional literacy called writing...I'm sure you've heard of it. (I'm not trying to be condescending, I just started writing the sentence, realized half way through how snarky it sounded and decided it was a perfect opportunity to mock myself!) I love that you showed both a literacy of writing and reading (of the picture). I think that a lot of times, as important as being able to express something in words is, knowing when and how to use pictures to express an idea shows a form of literacy. You can throw any picture into a story to express an idea, but chosing the right one, knowing which picture represents what you want to say, understanding that a discussion of bright, bold, brilliant colors deserves a picture that incorporates all of those adjectives, is a form of literacy. I think that is one reason teachers ask students to use pictures in their study of vocabulary. If you can define a word using a picture, it shows an understanding of the meaning as well as a grasp of literacy.
ReplyDeletePlus I love the picture. It is true, crayola, for all of its efforts to create every shade imaginable, has nothing on Mother Nature.