Two months ago, I came across this painting at a SF bay area flea market. As soon as I saw it from across the lot, I wanted it. It's bright colors and vibrant brush strokes gave the colorfully clad, brown-skinned females movement and character. From a distance it looked as if they were not working but playing in a field, dancing in the afternoon sunlight of some tropical island as the cool, sea breeze blew wildly around them.
The painting really is a beautiful sight to behold. I felt like I was sneaking up on lovely maidens enjoying the freedom and bliss that comes with living in unison with tropical nature. I continued walking toward the painting, captivated by its narrative, so real and effortless to imagine.
I experienced the swaying palm trees sashaying from side-to-side, the women gathering up whatever fruits had shaken loose and fallen to the ground below. I saw these dancing beauties tossing their bounty into flat weaved baskets set upon their heads, before slinging their ripe load into larger baskets huddled in the high dry grass. I hear joy, laughter, and music pouring from the painting as I approach.
But I experienced an odd phenomenon while gazing at the painting. The closer I got, the less movement and activity I saw in it. I stopped for a minute to see if maybe something in my step caused a change of view. Nope, there it was again, the movement, with dancing, but not quite as noticeable as a second ago. Even so, I continued my approach, excited to see this soul-stirring scene up close.
While making my way through vendor tarps and food vendors, I lost sight of the painting for a minute or two. The flea market crowd had thickened, slowing my trek to a snail's pace as I worked my way around food and beverage lines. Reestablishing eye contact with the painting after what seemed like an eternity, I was shocked.
Now, within a few feet of the painting, there'd been a change. Like awakening from a dream to find the object of your desire had vanished, replaced by a fraud, a fake, a fill-in. Whether the change was in me or the painting I could not say.
What I laid my eyes upon was a gaudy mishmash of green and yellow, with dabs of bluesy, reddish-orange shirted folks standing amongst baskets. Just standing. I saw no movement, heard no music, witnessed no dancing. The magic was gone. The setting looked more like that of a tropical storm than an idyllic place in the tropical sun. So, what happened, what caused my impression of this beautiful painting to dull over distance and delay.
As I beheld the painting up close, I did feel like I was looking at a masterpiece. The vibrant brush strokes were still visible but the magic to its colorful madness somehow seemed locked away inside. I spent time contemplating whether to buy it or walk away. Eventually, with no proprietor in sight, I set it down and slowly backed away, hoping to rediscover the magical movement and activity I saw from afar. I thought I saw a little shimmy in the tree leaves, but concluded I was kidding myself. Nothing was moving on canvas. It was still colorfully appealing, but harmonious dancing had left the building.
As I backed further away, I took one last look before deciding it was best I leave the treasured painting for someone else to discover. I justified leaving it behind with the thought my apartment did not have the length or height for such a vibrant painting to thrive in. Later that evening, with the appeal of that painting lingering in my thoughts, it dawned on me what might have caused the painting to lose its appeal for me.
It was as I first thought, distance revealed the hidden secrets of this visual treasure. When I drew closer, I saw its parts, but further away I saw It! Space and distance give viewers a chance to take in the painting in its entirety. The painting belongs in a museum or gallery, large enough to give viewers a spacious, distant perspective of its lively and joyous scene.
This painting taught me a thing or two about art. One thing for sure is a painting can have a different effect from different viewing angles. And also, art imitates life in so many ways, enough so that you can feel its influence on you.
Sometimes in life, we should take a step back from peoples, places, situations, and things we find appealing. Getting the bigger picture can be a blessing, revealing hidden treasure in those things we find ourselves connected to. But I must say, in life's choices, an up-close view is always needed to determine if what we see from afar dances and is jubilant right before our eyes. Because from afar our imaginations can lead us away from reality. Away from making choices based on our best interests and needs. For many of us, perception is reality.
In art it's just a matter of perspective. When a person connects with a piece of art, he/she is connecting with the creativity instilled in the artist who created it. Where that creativity comes from who knows. But what we experience and feel when connecting with the work of a gifted artist can be described as joyous, blissful, harmonious, holy, natural, familiar.
Paintings and other forms of art have a spirit that we as living beings can connect to.
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