I love to photograph birds. Images of these dainty winged creatures adorn my walls in every room in my home. Perhaps it's their gracefulness or spying them among a tangle of tree branches which I enjoy. I wonder if it isn't the fact those tiny animals are resilient to all types of weather. No matter what Mother Nature tosses at them (snow, rain, hail or sleet) those little birds are tough and strong.
Why certain images evoke lovely feelings from us has been cause for discussion among philosophers for millennia. Many discussions over late night coffee begin in this way:
What is art?
I heard a story from an artist friend who had a touching encounter with another artist in residence at a convent. More years than my friend cares to admit, she was once visiting a convent and an energetic, bubbly outgoing nun gave her a tour of the historic Dominican mother house in Racine, WI. She insisted that this visitor meet their resident artist, who was also a nun. The artist was in hermitage which meant she lived alone and kept a vow of silence and my friend surely didn't want to bother her. But the sister giving the tour insisted that the two should meet.
With great reluctance the narrator was dragged into the hermitess' art studio to see her beautiful creations. The art was stunning in proportion and technique. But neither knew what to say, after all, the artist wasn't much of a talker, having taken a vow of silence! The sister giving the tour was beside herself with excitement as she had triumphed and brought a visitor to see the recluse. And a visiting artist at that. This perky nun was convinced two artists together would have LOADS to discuss.
She prompted them both into a conversation neither of them wanted. What was there to say, except an occasional question of technique?
The artist looked at my friend, and my friend at her, both understanding that art, a creation, can only be experienced. So they mingled in her studio, soaking in the sculptures, not commenting, just being.
All artists understand.
(It drove that extroverted nun crazy.)
Creating art is a marvelous endeavor. Fine art stands alone- without words. Her art was transcendent, evoking thoughts of Unconditional Love of God. There wasn't anything TO say.