Page 8 - Demo

these all mattered a great deal to me. But my interest in art really came to the forefront in elementary school, when Mrs. Meech, a playmate%u2019s mother, took her daughter, my sister, and me to a very special Vincent Van Gogh exhibition at the Detroit Institute of Arts. Although we lived just outside the Detroit city limits, my own family ignored the city%u2014and it%u2019s world-class amenities%u2014as much as possible. So, I%u2019d never been to the Institute. In fact, I hadn%u2019t even heard of it. This particular exhibit was an extraordinary event. The huge collection on display was on tour from the Van Gogh Museum in the Netherlands. This visit was my initial introduction to Van Gogh and what he created. To describe myself as completely entranced by the enormity of Vincent%u2019s growth, energy, color, subject matter, and brushwork would be a serious understatement. That exhibit changed the course of my life, and I knew I had to study art.I stood transfixed before each piece for as long as I could, before the crowd forced us forward once again. The glowing life of his paintings of orchards, flowers, canals, boats, buildings, his own house, his own room, his own chair, sunflowers, a star-emblazoned night sky, and so much more, was far more than I could study and appreciate in the brief time allowed. Besides his scenes, I was deeply moved by the portraits of his doctor, a teacher, a mailman, and the many versions of himself.Barn Owls. Block print on construction paper. 1962When we entered the gallery and began viewing his earliest work, we saw paintings and drawings in tones of brown and gold. The Potato Eaters%u2014rough-looking Dutch farming peasants eating their simple dinner of potatoes, was moving, honest, and earthy. As the four of us, in the midst of the crowd, moved along, I saw Vincent%u2019s style transform into bright colors, bolder strokes, and new subject matter. The sudden availability of manufactured paint in tubes, Van Gogh%u2019s move to southern France, his awareness of Impressionism, along with a growing confidence in his own skills, changed nearly everything about how he expressed himself in his art. Near the end of the exhibit, I saw his now-familiar face bandage where his ear had once been. I realized that he was losing himself%u2014literally. Finally, I stood in front of his final work. There were black vees of crows flying over an eerie, energized, golden cornfield created with thick, emotionally applied strokes of color. A crooked lane quickly disappeared back into the wild stalks. There was such an energy and power to this piece and I was so overwhelmed I was never the same again.In school, I had always earned good grades, and my interests and attention were drawn in a variety of directions. But after experiencing Vincent%u2019s work, having a life filled with art, became my real hope. Of course, I knew I would never come close to being a master, but I still wanted to paint, and draw, and sculpt, and be surrounded by art. And, I wanted to be around other people who were creative.One of the arty people I met was my 4th-grade teacher, Miss Gullett. Thin, gawky, and bubbly, her hairdo and clothes were of 1940s vintage. She%u2019d just ended a long stint in the Army, teaching soldier%u2019s children who, along with their families, were stationed on bases around the globe. Of all the places she%u2019d resided, her absolute favorites were France and Japan%u2014with France clearly in the lead.Ice Fishing. Pastel on paper. c1960