One of the Hobbits little friends asked me the other day if I was an artist. I have no idea where he got such an idea from as I don't do anything big that neighbours might notice, I don't look arty - or at least I don't think I do. But he was quite certain, maybe the Hobbits said it, who knows. Children tend to say the most inspirational things at times.
So I have pieces I like, pieces I admire, I go through stages of liking one style over another and then not. I dislike intensely any snobbery over artists, all this guff about Jack Vettriano for example. Heaven forbid an artist actually sells his paintings en masse. Although not my favourites there is a sense of dark foreboding in his work and each painting, you could write a story about the characters within very easily. One of my art teachers in school was very dismissive of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. A particular favourite of mine at the time as it met my Gothic tendencies. You see apparently I knew nothing as the background to the Mona Lisa is squinty for a reason plebs such as myself couldn't possibly comprehend.
Therefore I totally dismiss what art choices say about a person in a way. They may give an idea of personality but in no way should that cloud judgement of the person as a whole. Some people like the chocolate box paintings, some people adore abstracts, if there was no variety in tastes what a bland little world this would be.
Wait, what was this post about...oh yes, my choice for this...
I could be entirely predictable and choose something by Mary Cassett but I feel more like this today...
Childish, magical yes, but tomorrow I may lean towards something else. That is how it goes.
(Midsummer Eve by Edward Robert Hughes)