Through the eyes of an artist

I am envious of artist, those that can paint and draw. I can do neither. I have been fortunate over the last thirty years to have purchased several paintings produced by local and regional artist that I can look at every day and marvel at their gift. I don’t have “it”, that gift, that skill, that gene, whatever “it” is. I wish I did.

My taste in art follows a pretty straight line, Impressionism; Manet, Monet and Renoir. Post-Impressionism; Cézanne, Gauguin and van Gogh. I have had the opportunity to stare in disbelief at the creations of many of these great masters. I spent an hour in front of van Gogh’s “Sunflowers” at the National Gallery in London following every line, examining every petal, amazed at the magic he weaved in colors, light and shadows. This man saw the world differently than most. He saw colors that we mere mortals can only dream of let alone mix and create with the tip of a brush.

Starry, starry night, Flaming flowers that brightly blaze, Swirling clouds in violet haze, Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of china blue,  Colors changing hue,  Morning fields of amber grain, Weathered faces lined in pain, Are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand- Don McLean- Vincent (Starry, Starry Night) 

Over the years I have tried my hand at painting but I could never translate what my mind saw to the canvass. The frustrating part was that it was not so much the image as it was trying to capture the experience and the emotions using color and depth. I find it hard to believe that you can be taught these skills. You have to be born with “it”, to have the eyes, which match the soul, which moves the hand, and creates the magic. I just don’t have “it” and I want so bad to have “it”. I guess I will have to be satisfied with whatever “its” I have.


About ends and beginnings blog

I am a frustrated writer and poet waiting to be discovered. A stand-up philosopher performing on a street corner near you. A Christian with questions but I don’t want to hear your answers. A Buddhist with a bumper sticker on my truck to prove it. A collector of quotes. A grower of lettuce. The Patron Saint of earthworms who name their children after me. A cyclist whose big ass strains the seams of his Lycra bibs. I am American by birth, Southern by the grace of God. My goal in life is to leave an imprint on the lives of the people I love not a footprint on the earth. I am a son, a husband, a father composed of 65%-Oxygen, 18%-Carbon, 10%-Hydrogen, 3%-Nitrogen, 3%-Diet Coke and 1%-Oreo.
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10 Responses to Through the eyes of an artist

  1. It’s all good. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Lively Life says:

    And you use those its, the strengths you already have that other people long for, and build on them and beauty will manifest faster and easier.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. samanthamurdochblog says:

    You are a wordsmith and philosopher-that in itself is an art!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I enjoyed reading this short piece and can totally relate. I am also a huge fan of the Impressionists and have to enjoy the extraordinary power of paint as an observer having no artistic skill myself. I wish I did. But thank heavens they do.

    Liked by 1 person

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