Give Yourself the Gift of Seeing Original Art

Seeing This painting by Jack Whitten at MoMA, took my breath away

Do you visit museums and galleries?

Have you thought about the difference between seeing a painting, a sculpture or other work of art on your phone or laptop, or in a printed book, and what you see and feel when you are in the presence of a work of original art?

I am fortunate to live in Boston, where there are many wonderful museums and outstanding galleries.

I often go to a museum for just an hour, to see the work of an artist in a special exhibition, or to wander and make unexpected discoveries. I love seeing sculptures in natural settings. And I enjoy popping into galleries to see new art.

(Happily, galleries are free to visit, and many museums are open without charge on particular evenings and weekend days.)

What happens when you see art

Being in the presence of something that has been created by an artist can be thrilling. It may make your heart flutter, pique your curiosity, surprise you, make you feel awe, or disturb you.

Whether you feel delight, confusion, or decide you don’t like what you see, you are stimulated in significant ways.

And that stimulation — that can vary from moment to moment as you walk through a gallery — has a bigger impact than you may imagine.

Physically and neurologically, studies have shown that dopamine is released (that makes you feel calm and provides sensations of pleasure), bloodflow to the brain increases (that can make you feel loving), and stress hormones decrease (less stress is always a plus!).

And with frequent exposure to art (in all forms), depression, anxiety and even pain are reduced. Your view of the world is positively impacted. Emotions are heightened, and empathy, tolerance and critical thinking skills all tend to increase.

Why seeing original art matters

As good as a reproduction may be — and most often, reproductions fall short of being accurate to the color of an original work — there is a lot that is missed when leafing through a printed catalogue, or clicking though a museum website.

Because the color you see in reproductions is bound to be duller, or brighter, or more garish than what you see standing in front of an original work. Thus you feel something very different compared to the response you’ll have seeing the original art.

You also miss relating to the scale of the work.

Standing before a tiny canvas or a huge one, or in the presence of a towering assembled sculpture or a smooth marble bust sitting atop a pedestal at eye level, impacts what you see and how you feel.

You also get to take in the surface of a painting. It may be smooth and flat, or the paint may be thick. The strokes may feel powerful and energetic (think of Vincent Van Gogh's vigorous paintings of landscapes and sunflowers). Observing these differences can impact your emotional response to the work.

Much as it can be great to listen to a good recording of music, if you have had the opportunity to be at a live concert to hear that same orchestra or singer, you know that what you felt was different in ways that elevated and expanded your experience.

Give yourself the gift of small art dates

I invite you to seek out experiences to engage with original art from time to time.

Being in the presence of human creative expression is amazingly powerful.

Whether you visit a museum or sculpture park or gallery alone, invite close friends to join you, or take kids in your life with you, you are bound to leave feeling renewed and inspired.

You are likely to feel happier, find yourself considering new perspectives, and you may even see the world around you through new eyes.

Your creative power will certainly be boosted!

And, if your experiences are anything like mine have been, the joy you’ll feel when you engage with art will linger for a delightfully long time.

Sabbatical update — reflections at the mid-point

I continue to be enormously grateful for my 3-month sabbatical adventure. In the year before it started, the prospect of having 3 months to live in a new city and dive deep into new learning and personal exploration sounded like it would be a rare and remarkable experience. Now that I am at the mid-point, I can say that the sabbatical has surpassed my expectations.

The rhythm and structure of my days is quite different here than in Boston. I am taking a semester-long abstract painting class as well as a short course on making art books. I‘ve also committed to a self-study program and I am working to complete a book I had started writing before the sabbatical. I am working with a few coaching clients on a very limited basis now, and savoring the time with them. I am also visiting as many of Washington's museums and monuments as I can, I‘m walking to explore as widely as my feet can manage, and Steven and I have been taking in movies more often than usual. I‘m doing some cooking with lovely farmers‘ market finds, and we are enjoying socializing with some friends and family — including some wonderful new friends — who live in the DC area. 

One of my paintings

Every day is different, and I am never at a loss for things to do. But as I plan each day, I am aware that it is very easy for me to slip into old patterns and overload my schedule. I am conscious of making choices to create space for some quiet every day, whether it‘s for reading, meditation, drawing, or walking in a beautiful place. Creating balance is a big priority now, and I hope that when I return to Boston at the end of the year it will be a natural part of my life.

My first book

Among my most inspiring experiences have been recent museum visits. When I look at art now, I see it in new ways. When I stand before a painting, I look at color through new eyes, thinking about all of the color choices the artist made. I have a new appreciation for the tones they mixed as well as the impact of the juxtaposition of colors. And, I am keenly aware of the painting technique, marveling at strokes of textured paint, or smoother surfaces with clean edges of color against color, or a flat surface in which the brush strokes are barely perceptible. The craft of the painting, as well as its color and composition and overall emotional impact are all playing in my head (and my heart) as I walk through galleries. 

Whether sharing studio time in my painting classes, or seeing the gallery exhibitions of some of my incredibly talented classmates, or gazing at masterworks in some of our country's most fabulous museums, I am thrilled by all of the creative stimulation. That energy spills over into every part of my life.

Here are just a few examples of recent pleasures and experiences.

The color transformations of David Hockney's Snails Space with Vari-Lites, "Painting as Performance", as the lighting slowly changed, wERE astonishingly beautiful. [At The Smithsonian American art Museum]

Pat Steir's elegant Gold Morning with Roses; Wayne Thibaud's Jackpot Machine, with a paint surface that looks like frosting; A detail in another David Hockney painting, Double Entrance, where you can see the fabulous way he uses and applies color to a canvas; Eric Fischl's Ten Breaths: Tumbling Woman II, which powerfully relates to the human dimension of September 11. [AT THE SMITHSONIAN AMERICAN ART MUSEUM]

The imposing Lincoln memorial; a family doing a rubbing of the name of a relative who died in the Vietnam War, at the moving vietnam war memorial; and looking at the Washington Monument from the lincoln memorial.

Our sunday trips to the farmers' market at Dupont Circle are always a visual delight.

Some of my talented classmates at work in our painting studio; the studio where my Book arts class is taught.

I cannot omit some other highlights of the sabbatical so far. The first half of this adventure was punctuated by a wonderful week back in Boston, where I had a powerful retreat with my coaching group to conclude and celebrate the completion of 6 months together. And, I had the pleasure to doing two great Evening of Creativity and Cooking workshops with women who were full of creative spirit. 

As I look ahead, I am eager to continue the challenging work in my painting class (I‘m venturing out of my comfort zone and starting to paint on larger canvases), learning from my gifted teacher and my generous classmates. I look forward to visiting the newly renovated Renwick Gallery that will reopen next week, as well as many other museums. I have plans to spend time with new acquaintances who share my passion for creativity. And, I am excited to anticipate our trip back to Boston for Thanksgiving, when we will spend time with our children and our precious grandson, before returning for the last weeks of this special time in Washington. 

I am truly excited to be here and to be living big!

Wire and light — a magic combination

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While on a wonderful holiday trip to Paris, we spent the afternoon at the Pompidou Center and nearly wore out our feet visiting the museum's amazing, enormous contemporary collections. Alexander Calder has always been a favorite, and when I came upon this wire sculpture, Josephine Baker IV, vers 1928, I was simply delighted. Next to the piece, an old movie clip was playing of Baker in performance. The sculpture, together with its shadow, creates a sense of Baker's dance moves and distinctive personality that we saw in the old film. 

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Among the many other delights we came upon was a large work by Alighiero Boetti, an Italian artist, whose dramatic and varied work we first experienced in New York at the Museum of Modern Art in the summer of 2012. The scale, color and detail in Tutti (Everything) are fantastic. The 1987 work is part of a series that was embroidered by Afghan refugees in Pakistan after the Soviet invasion of their own country. Boetti entrusted the execution of his design to the embroiderers, distributing 84 colors and a finite amount of thread for each.

And, seeing a marvelous portrait by Henri Matisse, Fillette au chat noir (1910), that was new to us, was a treat as well. Matisse was a master of color and this portrait totally charmed us.