Tucked away in a short under-building walkway is a collection of artwork that I enjoy
There are five or six of them at high level. Not new at all, but have weathered well. They are large 2.5m say 3.0m in both directions and are nicely intimidating. They are best big!
I took the time recently to stop and read them. They are not a linked set and I suspect by different people.
As I have aged I have mellowed in my attitudes to understanding. In my formative years I struggled to develop a thought process that allowed me to say ‘yes … I get that, I understand it.’ This was in response to being thoroughly annoyed by pontificating art critics who claim to have insights into masters and say ‘… he was thinking about this …’ or ‘ he did this because …’ about a piece of work say 500 years old with blind certainty that could get an innocent man hung.
I have no objections to opinions, I have many of my own which wax and wain dependent on my thoughts and feelings.
I am now ready to suspend worldly beliefs for a short time to enjoy what I am looking at. I look about, I see things, I indulge my mind to see what ever it finds without having to justify to others what I see. I make up stories, which in turn spurs other thoughts.
About 17 years ago I took a photograph on Brighton Pier of an elderly couple sitting under a canopy. The lady was sitting the other-side of he partner looking past me and unaware of my intention to photograph them. I was only six feet away.
Later I asked a class of adults to look at the photograph and share their thoughts for a moment. I got them talking and they had a friendly chatter about the scene.
I then said they were retired soviet spies living in Hove who I had tracked down.
There was complete mayhem. No one understood the photograph anymore.
Here ended the lesson that proved not everyone sees the world in the same way.
While I took the photograph my mind wondered quite happily and I was in their scene planning and plotting what to do next.