I just want to specify that I am not a closet member of the Art Appreciation Society. If a painting has a naked woman in it, it's a naked woman. There's no "depth" involved in painting. It's simply a matter of colours on paper, as far as I am concerned. I do not find the Mona Lisa to be anything other than an unattractive woman who had great hair for someone who didn't grow up with the priveleges of a hair straightener.
I am, however, going to share an art piece related blog, as that is what is required of me today. I should have read these challenges before I agreed to participating in this 30 day challenge, but I didn't, so now I, and you, shall suffer the consequences. Me by writing. You by reading.
I took art as an elective subject in Year 10. Why? Because it was a bludge class, and the last thing I thought of at the age of 15 was what I wanted to do with my life, I just wanted to get by in school to keep my parents and teachers off my back. Anyway, I took Art, and unfortunately my teacher [it's only been 8 years and I cannot for the life of me remember his name, he had a bald head though, so let's for the sake of getting through this, call him "Mr. Baldy"... unless of course at some point I do recall his real name, of course] was one of those people who was an Art Appreciater.
He would forever, bring paintings to class that "moved" him in such a way that he was nearly crying in every lesson when he discussed them or looked at them. He'd also, go into great depth about Art at recess if he saw a student from his class, so it often became a game of, "Oh, Mr. Baldy, so&so was REALLY moved by that painting you showed her today" and we'd run off leaving the poor victim fuming at being abandoned to hear about textures, thoughts, and feelings. This to me is nutty, but to Mr. Baldy it was his life, and who was I to pick on the guy? He was raking in a $30,000 + salary, and I wasn't even eligible for Youth Allowance.
Mr. Baldy decided to bring in several pieces and asked us to write an essay on at least one of the pieces he brought along to share. He said we were allowed to write essays on more than one piece. As if THAT was going to happen. One of the pieces he brought along did evoke a response from me. Not what he'd been hoping for, but it was the best he was going to get out of me. That response was laughter. Laughter that day, and laughter for every day afterwards. No, the painting was not of anyone naked. No, the painting was not that of a dog doing the deed with a plush teddy bear. The painting was merely an outdoor scene. Trees, grass, sky, what have you. How is this funny?
It wasn't, in all honesty. There was nothing at all remotely giggle worthy about the painting, until I turned the copy over and found the name printed on the back. It merely said "Spring Fantasy". THAT was hilarious to me at 15, and yes, 8 years later I am still giggling over the name. It sounded extremely erotic for a painting, as far as I was concerned. You have "spring fantasies" over attractive men, or women, NOT over trees and grass. Clearly, I was of immature mind back then [I am only giggling now as the memories of my friends and I making such a large to-do about a painting named "Spring Fantasy" is more lame than it is funny].
So, here is a picture, which may or may not have been the painting I came across all those years ago, but it's as close as I'm going to get because I can't email Mr. Baldy and say "Hey Mr. Baldy, forward me a copy of Spring Fantasy". I hope you enjoy it, because I surely didn't, and for those of you who are curious about how I would manage an essay on a painting that was just "colours on a paper", I managed just fine, so fine in fact that I passed Art, if only by the skin of my teeth.