Prompt: How does art happen?
The vibrant splatter of paint on a daunting white canvas, the crack of a piece of marble with a carefully placed chisel, and the lead of a pencil streaking across an empty page are all moments of miraculous art waiting to be shared with others. Art happens when an image is planted in the mind of someone craving to put an idea into reality. Art can be created through paints, pastels, film, marble, and endless materials one may not even think of. However, what matters is what hands these materials are placed in. As long as this person is willing to create and express a piece of their self, art is happening. After all, I have created both well done and not so well done work. Yet regardless of the outcome, art has still occurred and a piece has implanted in the soul of the artist and the onlooker. Once completed, the artist has freed themselves of the itching need for self expression- at least until next time- until the next idea fills the eager mind.
From the moment many people reach the ability to create, people desire to partake in art. Though possibly unaware, even at a young age art happens frequently. I know as a child I loved the feel of a crayon rolling along the smooth page of my brand new princess coloring book. Though these colors ran together and did not even stay within the neatly placed lines as the creators intended, art happened. After all, true art does not follow a rulebook of guidelines. I just wanted to fill each spot on every page with my mark and my idea of beauty for dad to hang proudly on his desk at work, which he always did. When the first colorful bin of chalk found its way in front of me, the driveway was quickly filled with endless sea creatures, stick-figure family portraits, and depths of my childlike imagination. Once I shared these ideas across the recently washed driveway, art happened. I created forts out of blankets and pillows, which to me was just as strong and brilliant as the towering Roman forums and palaces I see before me today. Though not sturdy and substantial like the marble and bronze people of ancient times used, the cotton stitched blankets still expressed my artistic imagination brewing within.
As time continued on, the materials and ideas of the artist changed but the action remained the same. I graduated from crayons on up to markers, glue, and the oh-so desirable glitter. I left my work on blue, red, and pink construction paper, and unfortunately for my mom, sometimes the carpet. After all, nobody ever said art had to happen neatly. When the first pair of scissors weaseled their awkward way into my still too small hands and I learned their ways, I created snowflakes of all shapes and sizes for a holiday extravaganza. Afterwards, I compacted snow to form life-size creations of my own version of Frosty, decorated cookies with an assortment of frostings and sprinkles, and drew a picture for my parents in front of the cozy fire to hang on the fridge. Seasons changed, and in the spring I made a bouquet assortment of the best dandelions and weeds all over town. My mom placed the piece of art in our best vase in the center of our dinner table for all to appreciate and admire.
Still, time waited for nobody, and instead of writing “To Mommy” on the top of my picture, I signed my name and handed works into Ms. Seitz, my middle school art teacher. We wrote our name in huge block letters in the front of our booklets with colored pencils. She taught me how to shade, use the color wheel, and distinguish when to use warm and cool colors. I mixed primary paints together, and to my disbelief, made some of my favorite shades which she liked to call secondary colors. We were taught that each person has their own perspective when creating art and that everything has shadows, depth, and varying composition. We were graded on how well we used techniques and the time and effort we put into each one. I could not whip out my crayon and color for pure enjoyment, but instead took out my carefully constructed plan and went to work.
High school rolled around quickly and with that came diverse notions of art. We learned what art was and meant, and how it changed with the time period and availability of materials. We became aware of the fact that art happened differently in the eyes of van Gogh, da Vinci, Monet, and Picasso. Not everything had to makes sense, as art now required interpretation. Meticulously, we sketched, painted, and created for hours on end. I was pleased when my art was not just hung upon our fridge with a magnet, but placed on a wall to be judged with an award winning certificate next to my name. Art happened and I was pleased with the progression of ability I was attaining.
Finally, the time has come for my new definition of art. I write to you sitting in Rome, surrounded by brilliant works I never thought I would have the liberty to see. I have recently been introduced to a style of art known as etching by Gina Marziale and had the pleasure of attempting to create my own. With my class, I have learned about art from the time of the Etruscans up until the Baroque period. I have appreciated the statue of David soaring high above me, walked through the Uffizi Museum, and gazed in awe at the architecture of endless churches and synagogues. I have not only witness, but been in and on the immense structures of the Coliseum, Pantheon, and Spanish steps. The names Bernini and Brunelleschi have become commonplace in my life here the past eight weeks and I sit here finding myself truly blessed. All of these artists have made art happen, not just for themselves, but for those who witness their art to this very day. Art happens not only when the brush or chisel hits that piece of work but also when the onlooker deciphers what that piece of work means to them. Art continues to happen as the message and idea first inspired by the artist connects with another and stays with them. Art happens all around us and all of the time. Whether art be a toddler grabbing that crayon for the first time or a fanatic viewing their favorite painting for the fiftieth time, art will persist and continue on.












