Art

I went to the Tate Modern Gallery in London a few months ago and a lot of the art was lost on me, I ‘didn’t quite get it’, if you know what I mean. So I thought I’d try the Tate Britain, see if it was different. Again things weren’t connecting, which is strange because generally I like creativity. 

It dawned on me that the problem was the environment. Not the art, but the gallery. 

The galleries are full of amazingly crafted, intricate, thought provoking and stunning art work, but these weren’t created for the gallery. They were created for the world, for a real purpose, from the streets to the lounge. They were created from a passion and a desire. Born out of artistic inspiration. 

I understand the necessity to preserve and display great works of art, but art for me bears so much more meaning when its graffiti on a wall, or a painting in a hall way, or a sculpture in a building. Its something I want to see in everyday life. Just to stop for an instant glance and be awe struck. Not to walk around reading plaques on walls, to cram in a session of art, and be told what to think.  

This, for me, was like a mirror imagine of Jesus. One which had been crammed into the gallery to be read about, and looked upon and nothing more. Not to be seen in everyday life, not to be inspirational, not to be loaded with passion and meaning, but to be whittled down by ‘experts’ into a nice neat package.  

So much of art is lost because we tried to analyse it, instead of enjoy it.