Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My younger son and I had a rare afternoon alone together.  We saw a show he had installed at an art gallery an hour away, and we had lunch first.  The show was small, but breathtaking.  Agnes Martin paintings were in the middle two rooms and Navajo rugs were in the entry room and back room.  Each rug and each painting was spectacular.  The sense of Agnes Martin's living in the southwest was readily apparent.  With each piece, rug or painting, the closer I got, the more detail and color appeared.  There were many surprises:  flecks of red in what seemed from a distance monochromatic, and variations of yarn and color seen only as you stood a foot away from a rug.  The rugs were vivid strong deep colors, with a lot of earthy brown and deep blue of a night sky.  Martin's paintings were seemingly stripped of color except for pale peach, a luminous yellow, a washed out blue.  Yet they were the same landscape.  And they were not only representational but spiritual.  You were pulled to step into the painting or rug.  upon close viewing, the flaws in Martin's lines and the weaving in the rugs highlighted the humanity of each artist.  We took each other's photo before our favorite painting and rug.  Then we stopped by a university art museum and looked at old faves and a small show of Elizabeth Murray, who couldn't be more different, more cartoonishly playful.  Her pieces were huge and some sluggy brownish, and others neon psycadelic.  Her joy in materials was blatant and contageous.

We went back with visual memories stored in our minds for touchstones to beauty and connection with our earth and the surprising artistry of humans, with whatever materials they fashion their dreams.