Art ‘n soul

I’m not sure why I remember this so well, but in a Western Civilization class in high school, my teacher Ms. O’Brien said that there were several things that were universal to every single culture on the face of the earth.  War was one. The belief in a deity (or deities) was another.  I forget the third frankly. But I remember the fourth. It was art.

Since we walked upright we have had the need to express ourselves in a way that was different from the day-to-day otherwise known as the ordinary.  Our words,  facial expressions and gestures might communicate,  “I’m angry”,  or , “I love you”.  Yet, it is certainly interesting to ponder that it is universal to rise above just the spoken word, especially if it’s true that every civilization of any time or place has had or now has  an aching need to express sentiment in a unique and deeper way, that is, through some form of “art”.

For me, the most obvious and prolific expressions of art in the modern world are love songs and nude portraits.  To compose and sing after cupid shoots an arrow hard into one’s figurative heart or to caress with pigment and then share the curved detail of  a loved one’s naked back  while too becoming exposed to the entire world celebrates the intense emotion of love in a way that mere words cannot and connects us with others  in such a profound,  spiritual way.  In contrast, Graffiti is a territorial slap of paint which replaces the silver bullet with bossy, defiant primary colors.

I now sometimes look at art of all sorts, especially that of another time or any creative work that doesn’t particularly strike a chord with me initially with a different perspective.  What is the expression, the emotion, the message?  Then, I try to see if in casual conversation I could express it with literally just words.  For me, it is an exercise that forces me to delve into the deepest crevices of my thoughts and say things out loud that perhaps I never would have uttered.  How ironic that creating in isolation and experiencing art in silence feels safe and natural but translating that same emotion to a simple sentence to be shared with another face-to-face feels awkward and frightening.

Therefore, I wonder if art was and is born from a lack of the ability to communicate in our simplest form comfortably and honestly.  It’s strange that perhaps what connects us so universally and almost telepathically with the world so magnificently also separates us when we are the artist.  Perhaps creatives at times have become too dependant on expressing ourselves through inspired means and should every once in a while just use simple words more often to connect honestly with each other – even if we’re angry but especially if we’re in love.