Yesterday, at long last, I visited the MoMA. It was my first visit. Visiting the National Museum in Washington, last week, I had been impressed by their collection. I stand impressed yet again.
A epic three panel Monet spanned a 30 ft. room. More Picasso's than you could count filled another. Paul Klee, Wyland, Miro, and a series of Pollock's, and countless other top names were scattered about on five glorious floors. On the top floor-- an entire show of Salvador Dali's work.
It won't be easy to forget the experience. Already in a little doodle this morning te influence is apparent. Wishing to draw a small bug, I easily choose an ant, in the spirit of one of Dali's favorite motifs. The impressions seep into my mind like the fragrance of a subtle perfume opened in a room.
A grand, cubist painting by Picasso stood out. Perhaps it wasn't so much the painting, as the brush strokes. As a final touch to a colourfull depiction ('Young Woman before a Mirror') Picasso added an array of defining black lines.
Despite the importance of these lines, despite their addition at the very end, despite them being black, it was clear they had all been done in quick, deft and fantastically confident motions.
As an artist, one cliff that one must steadily climb is that of self-acceptance. I don't mean self acceptance as a general state but rather a moment to moment process of being content with one's creations. As one paints each brush stroke is statement of self. In a way, what one feels about each brush stroke is a mirror of what one feels about oneself.
Everyone at every moment is creating. In a way, all our moments are equally creative at a metaphysical level. The creations of artist stand out only because they are overt and declaritive. A brush stroke makes life's continuum of creativity suddenly visual. But is that stroke done right? Is it slightly off? Does it need to be corrected, tweaked, erased? The answer to these questions comes from one's state of self acceptance.
Ironically, whether ones erases or continues or tweaks, is an equally creative motion. One is always creating. Even in destruction. It struck me that Picasso, at least in making that painting, was immensily comfortable with the creative flow passing through him. His strokes were pure acceptance. It is a state to aspire to.