Last week I had the privilege of watching three people fall in love. I was stewarding at a group exhibition. The walls and plinths were covered with works from more than eighty artists at different stages of their creative journeys.
In the morning two women who were clearly close friends came into the gallery. They were immediately drawn to a vibrant, strikingly coloured, landscape painting from an accomplished artist which depicted a scene they both recognized. You could tell by their comments, “That’s Covehithe!” “That IS Covehithe!” that the piece resonated strongly. In an instant it had evoked memories of a specific place that had meaning to them. The women commented on the glowing colours that “could light up any room.” How “cheerful” the painting made them feel. Despite tearing themselves away from it for a short wander around the other works the pair quickly ended up back at the painting. One said, “I’m sorry, but once you’ve seen this, all the other paintings here pale into insignificance.” The painting in question was one of the more expensive pieces in the room at £1,250. The women started to debate whether they could, “go halves,” and share custody of the painting, with each of them having it in their home for 6-months of the year. Again they wandered briefly into another room, selected a couple of greetings cards (there were none of the piece they loved) and then came back again, talking of lottery wins and convincing themselves they did not have a wall in their respective houses where it could go. The sheer impracticality. Their internal struggles were evident. After about half an hour they managed to drag themselves away, to carry on with their day out.
I’m sure they’re still thinking about that painting. Perhaps they checked bank accounts and monthly budgets when they got home. As of this morning it still hasn’t sold. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came back before too long though. Impracticality, you are outgunned. The longing to own that visual experience for all time may just prove too much to resist.
Later in the day a visitor was flicking slowly through one of the five overstuffed browsers in the room. Suddenly she stopped and exclaimed, “Oh!” I looked up from the paperwork I was filling out. “I’ve just found a painting that I absolutely love! I have to have it! This has made my day!!” She turned the painting around to show me. It was one of my small abstracts (image above). Only £60, but a sale nonetheless. I have to admit though, her reaction made my day too. I said I was the artist, we had a little chat about how I’d painted it, I explained some of the process. Then we carried on with our days, both glowing with happiness.
What strikes me now, thinking back, is that the three women’s reactions to those very different pieces of art were exactly the same. A jolt of connection. An emotional exclamation. An overwhelming desire to prolong the experience for as long as possible. Falling in love.
Other visitors had looked past both paintings earlier in the day with barely a flicker. Isn’t art amazing?
