Exposed

Super low tides lately.   Giving the world a different look and getting me thinking about, oh, I don't know . . . life - life's ebb and flow.  

An ebbing tide exposes whimsical treasures and enduring granite formations.

Looking Out at Norwood Cove

The Causeway

I think I'm in the low tide of my life.  Low tide inspires a broader consideration of life and structure and offers glimpses full of surprise and awe.  I think this is where I am.  I contemplate more, I observe more, and I feel confirmed and astounded at the same time.  

I can see now what's been there all along and I can identify and acknowledge those pieces of my life:  the joy, adventure, celebration, pride, and wonder.  But also the sadness, the challenges, and regret.  Real life.

Robert Rauschenberg

Untitled

1958

This is an opportunity for me to continue to build from the foundation that my family and I have created. The last 20 years of my life, with marriage, children, and jobs, have been overflowing and overloaded, with troughs and crests, turbulent and joyous.  High tide.  We've improvised and jury-rigged some over the years, just because that's how it works sometimes, but we're left with soundness and resilience. 

Paul Gauguin
At the Black Rocks
1889

With the high tide receded, I'm down to just me now.  I've grown - evolved, but I'm only starting to figure out how.  I'm the same, but I'm different.  I'm careful, but I'm assertive.  I'm adventurous, but I'm informed.  I'm idealistic, but I'm pragmatic.  I'm emotional, but I'm reasonable.  (note to family: I'm nagging, I'm annoying, I'm selfish. I am funny.)  I'm all the things I used to be and more.

I am exposed.

Childe Hassam
Incoming Tide
1919

   

I'm exhaling, and I'm happy.  I'm making choices, I'm taking chances, I'm making mistakes, and I'm doing things that I've always wanted to do.  Because I have time and support and encouragement.    

And I'm grateful that I have what has been with me all along - beautiful whimsical treasures, Mary and Addie, and enduring granite formation, John.  

And I have art.

Paul Cezanne
Rocks at L'Estaque
1882

Up Close and Personal

The Seine at Chatou
Andre Derain
1906

The William S. Paley Collection is on exhibit at the Portland Museum of Art.  I went to see it this past weekend.  I was extremely excited - I had planned for several months to see it, so as the time approached, my excitement and anticipation built.  Then it was everything and more than I expected and ever wanted.

I don't often talk about art with most of the people I know because, well, perhaps I'm a little embarrassed that I talk too much about it or the conversation may be one sided, and our relationships are based on other things anyway.  My life is pretty compartmentalized - I have my tennis friends, my work friends, my summer friends, and my family.  I know that they all appreciate my interest in art, but it seems less complicated sometimes, for me and for them, if I keep it more personal.

That's OK.  But when my excitement is building for a museum trip or I've just returned from a trip, I'm bursting and when, like today someone at work asked me what I did for my weekend and I told them about this fabulous exhibit filled with Matisse and Picasso and Cezanne and Degas and Gauguin and Braque and Toulouse-Lautrec and . . . oh my gosh I was right there in the same room with these paintings and . . . it was totally amazing . . . and . . .  the colors . . . the brushwork . . .

. . . and I notice their gaze averted and they mumble something like oh . . . cool.  So, I zip it, I exhale, and take a moment, and say, so? how was your weekend?

I got a thought at the museum as John and I were getting our tickets for admission to the Paley Collection.  I thought about how I was behaving when I said to the 20-something admissions hipster, "I'm so-ooo excited!" and I giggled and he just looked through me.  And also when John told me that photo-taking was going to be allowed for this special exhibit and I immediately got my camera all prepared and decided that I wanted my picture taken with a Picasso and Matisse, like they, the paintings, were rock stars.  I even planned how I was going to do the thumbs up, lean in, hey look at me grin pose.  And when we entered the main gallery and I walked into the center and did a slow motion spin, awed, like Dorothy discovering Munchkin Land.

And even when I did a little inside dance when I saw Matisse's Woman With a Veil, 1927.

Henri Matisse

Woman With a Veil

1927

Can't I control my excitement just a little bit?

Now, I know that I am star-struck.  I always have been.  If I am anywhere in close proximity (like a mile radius) to a famous actor, athlete, musician, and now I guess, a painting, I get star-struck.

The Seed of the Areoi (Te aa no areois)
Paul Gauguin
1892

Today my thought became a worry about the seriousness of my relationship to art.  Star-struck behavior is not sophisticated and mature, like I should be at my age.  Do I love the art or the idea of art?  Is art truly what defines me or is it what entertains me?  How committed am I to growing in my knowledge and love of art?

Tonight my answers are yes and yes, yes and yes, and very.  I believe that art is fun for me so it's easy to maintain my passion and commitment.  I can be high-brow, too, in my work at the art gallery (my summer job) where I can present myself professionally and intellectually.  But I'm also going to continue doing little dances inside and annoying hipster brats and wanting my picture taken with Picasso's Boy Leading a Horse, 1905-06.  John will even take the photo for me.

Boy Leading a Horse
Pablo Picasso 
1905-06

He would have, too, this weekend, BUT my camera's battery DIED mid gallery!  Aarrgh.  I will drive for three hours back to Portland, to get my thumbs up photo for my Facebook friends.  It's so exciting to be up close and personal with these Modernist paintings.