Over morning coffee my husband Dan and I were having a conversation about art. He asked if he could use some photos of my artwork to enhance his blog, ‘Thoughts.’ Having easy access to images of my paintings from years when I worked as an abstract artist I said, “Of course.” ‘Worked’ is a bit of a stretch. It would be more accurate to say I went delightedly to the canvas when the muse moved me. While getting up to refill my coffee mug he thanked me and added, “To encourage readers to reflect I asked my assistant to write up something about a piece.”

Hmmm. After giving that some thought I made sure to add. “OK, If you really think that’s necessary. As long as it’s very clear that what she writes is one person’s reaction and not a meaning that defines the work, but an example of the impact art can have on the viewer.”

Non-representational art is an avenue that can create an opportunity for reflection in an observer for it offers nothing clearly recognizable. There is no obvious roadmap to guide one’s reaction. You see what you, yourself bring to the work and in that uniquely personal space between you and the art a kind of magic can occur … Something like a key to unlock the secret dreams, hopes, and desires that perhaps have been locked away inside.

Art in the abstract offers a vast expanse for imagination and has real power to evoke deep internal awareness. It can be a tool to aid in unpacking some of the internal complexities of memory, training, inherent capacities and limitations. We’re built a lot like onions … layer after layer and even some so touching that they bring tears. However, this awareness comes at a price, and that price is investing in time for reflection and being with uncertainty. We are accustomed to a world of instantaneous answers. We like to know something and we like to know it now. To be uncertain is unsettling for us. 

I had the opportunity to go to The Tate Modern Museum in London and encountered an exhibition of some stunning paintings by Mark Rothko. These were huge canvasses filled from corner to corner with bold, sparse geometric shapes in undulating shades of deep red and burgundy. The paintings embodied a gravitas that held me spellbound, an energy that moved off the canvas to draw me, a willing observer, into an inquiry … asking, in a sense, what it is that is provoking my reaction? These masterful works of art were inviting me to take a journey into my inner world.

I was blown away by the depth of emotion I experienced in that room, the magnitude of impact. I sat down on a viewing bench to drank it all in while crowds of people walked through, many unimpressed. I heard things like, “It’s just a wall of red. Anyone could do that.” “I don’t get it, let’s move on.” In contrast, across the room on another bench was a young man who also appeared to be mesmerized by the power of these paintings. A tear escaped my eye and ran down my cheek as he glanced over and we silently acknowledged each other. A fellow traveller. 

It’s unfortunate that those who walked through the gallery without pausing to reflect missed an opportunity to allow the art to work its magic. For my part I wonder how many openings for a bit of insight I dismiss for lack of pausing for reflection. 

P.S.  After writing this piece I struggled to find a title. Nothing I came up with held the essence of what I was trying to say. Since I wasn’t getting anywhere I went out to my garden. While digging into my strawberry beds I realized I had already written the title many years ago. ‘Art for Awakening’ … This title captured my purpose at that time whether writing or painting, and it still does.