Review

Articles of Discovery — Spring 2010: The Moment

April 2, 2010, opening reception for "Defining Things Not Words" by Andrew Lyles at the KCAI Crossroads gallery. Photo: Corey Light

The night of April 2, I set out alone on my bike with the KCAI Crossroads gallery as one of my First Friday destinations. Upon arrival, the artist, Andrew Lyles, who is an avid cyclist himself, welcomed me with water and a kind smile. After catching my breath and bringing into focus the surroundings, I moved naturally through the space to find myself in a grouping of wood sculptures. The pieces were each a solid color, semi-enclosed, and free standing. Not as much moved by the colors, but intrigued by the angles, I gravitated towards one. Putting my hand above it and waiting to gain the attention of the artist there was a smile and a nod exchanged.

Oddly enough I liken the experience of choosing art work much more to meeting a litter of puppies than picking a car from a lot. Both the car and the puppy might catch one’s attention or reflect something in thoughts or desires, but it is a feeling remembered from those moments that stay with you a lifetime. Emotional content is beyond statements of form or function. The particulars can never truly reflect the whole, and the experience of art is more than just induction or deduction.

What happens for you in that pause — the moment of viewing?

Exhibitions like Lyles's Defining Things Not Words and our community's access to The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art reflect the depth and range in our arts community. I still remember one afternoon I spent at the museum as a youth, and it seems like it was only yesterday. Our middle school class was on a tour of the Nelson-Atkins, and as the guide said something about “the wilderness,” I stood transfixed ….

Michelangelo Merisi, called Caravaggio, Italian, 1571-1610, "Saint John the Baptist in the Wilderness," oil on canvas, 68" x 52" (unframed; framed, 77 1/4" x 60 7/8" x 4" inches), 1604-1605. Purchase: William Rockhill Nelson Trust, 52-25; location: not on view. Image: used with permission, courtesy of the museum

In Caravaggio's painting, John’s journey is told in the way his limbs hang, resting with the weight of his conviction, his ivory skin contrasting the darkness of his visage. Every few seasons or years I return to the museum just to stand before this painting as I had once as a boy, remembering that moment of youth when I saw the reflection of the unknown man within me. Looking today I gather solace in life's being a great journey of faith in which we are never alone.

The exercise offered in this Article of Discovery is simple: If you happen to experience a moment, whatever it might be when viewing a piece of art, hold on a few extra seconds or minutes to cherish it. Once the moment passes, return minutes or days later, choosing an alternate position or perspective, and experience the moment again. The goal is to promote reflection on your personal experience of art. It should be an effortless exercise of mindfulness. Please consider it upon your next gallery trip, museum visit or presence wherever the art that moves you exists.

The experience of art, before the function of acquisition or installation, is not only personal but also a defining act of our humanity. Whether seen as a skill or innate ability, it must be critically practiced to develop. Challenging our own perspective and developing involvement is the means by which a greater community is created.

Andrew Lyles, (right, installation view) "Wall Floor Dialog," acrylic on MDF, displayed near a porcelain tire sculpture, "Rolling Stock," by Jesse Small; Reflect Art collection. Photo: Sarah Kraly

“You’ve heard it said there’s a window
that opens from one mind to another,
but if there is no wall, there is no need
for fitting the window, or the latch”*
— Rumi

Notes:

This article is the first in the Reflect Art series, an inquiry into the perspective and involvement of the viewer and how potential patrons come to be. Growing a collection of art will coincide with these series of interactions and simple exercises. Also personally, sharing this article is a self-exploration and learning experience reflecting my own creative determination. I offer much thanks to readers, everyone at Review Publishing and Review Studios, and a special thanks to Andrew Lyles, a fellow Review Studios intern, for his willingness to tutor 14-year-old Jasaya Neale, winner in the art category of Kansas City region Turkish Olympiad in art handling and installation of Wall Floor Dialog in the Reflect Art collection. Acts like this are a true reflection of art in our community, beyond the moment, the purchase, or the piece.

* Rumi, Book of Love, translated by Coleman Barks, New York: Harper Collins Publishers, 2003, p. 30.

-re-

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