My Introduction to Art – and O'Keefe (Mr. Naveed)

    "An important question: How much experience do you have with painting?...," inquired Mr. Venkatesh four days before our first class.

    Even though the experience wasn't a requirement, it scornfully poked at my instinctive decision to join a class about Art. You see, Art was never the foreground of my canvas. Growing up, my home yearned for security: physically, financially, and emotionally. And unfortunately, art did not suffice. 

    It was as if Art was a lie, an illusion that would shroud our eyes from the Truth, the Truth that would excuse us for our actions in finding this security. Doctors and Engineers ruled my part of the world. They despised the 'meager' musicians or painters from their thrones while they boasted about the 'beauty' of science.

    With such thoughts bombarding my mind, I entered the class. Mr. Venkatesh maneuvered the electronics to show us a feeling on a screen. It was a feeling of peaceful misunderstanding. O'Keefe's world of abstraction confirmed that I do not know Art, but I can learn to embrace it. Black lines, the two abstractions, and Winter Road guided me through the anxiety of not knowing the right things to say or to feel. 

    I honestly couldn't tell you how fast time flew by that night. But one thing became definite: I will not know Art, but I will learn to let it consume me the way it wants.         

 


Comments

  1. AnonymousNovember 13, 2022 at 4:38 PM

    Very touching. If it's any consolation, my family background was similar, and art was not only ignored but even vigorously discouraged as useless. A symptom of middle-class South Asian spiritual impoverishment.

    ReplyDelete

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