We’ve come to the end. Our final blog, well at least for me. I’ve spent a lot time thinking about what I would say in this last post, and how I could accurately depict how I feel about saying goodbye. Throughout this series we’ve rediscovered how time does not alter emotion. I feel in one respect I’ve said all I can for now and that my time to go has come, to leave this chapter of my life behind. 

Now this not to say, I won’t return, but for the moment I’ll leave you with my last piece of advice or more accurately the knowledge I have acquired. We try to categorize art into schools and periods, because of the uncertainty of the world around us. If we can call Caravaggio a Baroque artist or De Hooch a Dutch master we somehow bring order to the universe. Although sometimes we have to face the chaos, understand that life happens.

Recently, I received some pretty devastating news, but I know that things will be okay. Our challenges do not define our experiences, our reactions to those difficulties do. For my final painting, I chose Childe Hassam’s The South Ledges, Appledore. Now if you can’t tell by looking at it, Hassam did not paint it during the Renaissance, 17th, 18th, or 19th centuries. He painted this in 1913. Although if I’ve learned one thing you cannot limit the boundaries of your experience with artificial dates. If something speaks to you, you should not have to rationalize within time. Furthermore I realize the name provides little insight into the power of the work, but hear me out. 

When someone gives you bad news, they attempt to brace you, give you a crutch to lean on, to supplement the blow of what you are about to go through by providing you with cases of success and stories of hope. In my experience though, sometimes words drift into the wind and get lost, lose their meaning in an overload of compassion from those around you. Now the people who give you advice don’t mean any harm, but talking helps them process their feelings and often leaves you out. 

Hassam’s painting, speaks louder than words to me. The woman looking at the ocean, appears relaxed, yet slightly tilts her hat downwards away from the crashing waves. This act, her inability to face the ocean head on, mimics how I feel right now. I know I’m ready, I’ve soaked up all I can, but staring out into the blue, well that scares me. Cancer scares me, you hear it and you think of those close to you and what you would do in that situation, but you never know until a doctor stands in front holding test results that do not bring good tidings. 

I see this woman and I see myself, at the cusp of so much, she sits a top the cliffs with the brown and blues mixing together, blurring all lines. The blue should excite me, the promise of the future, of university, of enhanced learning, yet my gaze keeps getting trapped in the rocks, the hospital beds, the unpredictability of what’s to come, the not knowing what’s wrong but only that something is not right. 

The only thing that strikes me as bizarre about this paintings, is the woman’s solitude. Her attire, her posture makes it appears as if she’s staring at the skyline all alone. The viewer does not see the people behind her, the individuals who do not take center stage, but support her nonetheless. 

As I say goodbye, I want to say thank you. Thank you to Mr. Luce for the unwavering support, our faithful readers, my class, my family, and of course art. Without the efforts of those around us, who attempt to capture the human experience, we would suffer greatly. Whether through paintings, etching, sculptures, or wood carvings, art connects us. 

As I depart into the world, I want to share art, because it’s not something only for the wealthy or “well” educated, it’s for humanity. Renaissance or modern, art makes the world seem a little less scary. For all those who will come after me, don’t be afraid to get lost in the pigments, or let yourself feel the paintings. Yes, learn, and learn all you can, about technique and composition, and how history applies to it all, but do not lose sight of the works that tug at your heartstrings, the paintings that brighten your day and remind you how wonderful life is. 

Life will take and take and take, but if you adjust your view a little bit, you will see that life has just as much to give.