Thursday, October 2, 2008

The Olympic Gymnast

I do this blogging thing all wrong. You're supposed to pick a niche and own it. Me? I don't own anything. I don't even own a car. I'm all over the place from art, to theology, to writing, to life in the Midwest, to my kids' antics. Just like my life. Ah well. Rules are overrated.

So. That's my disclaimer of sorts for this post. Good writing-buddy friend, Heather Goodman is doing a monthly online festival of art and life. LOVE that idea! This month the medium is a piece of visual art that moved you.

What a wide open subject! So many pieces of art have moved me from the classical to the post-modern. From my own art to the art of my son. How do I pick?

The way I usually do. By going back to the first time I remember a piece of art moving me. I was about 8 years old and obsessed with gymnastics. We were visiting some good friends of our family up in San Francisco and he had a couple of LeRoy Neiman prints. I remember be astounded by all the colors Neiman used. That it wasn't at all like the kind of art I was used to seeing. I was fascinated.

One night we were wandering around downtown San Francisco and he and I ducked into an art gallery. This print was on the wall.


I don't know how long I stood there staring but apparently I was enraptured enough for the sales person to begin asking our family friend if he was interested in buying the print for "his little girl."

I had never seen anything that captured my emotions on so many levels. My love of gymnastics (I could do that exact move and I had blonde pigtails), the colors, the motion. All of it was taking me someplace I'd never been before. A place I couldn't begin to describe, but I knew I wanted to visit again and again.

Years later when I was in college I visited the home of a friend of a friend. They had several Neiman originals on the wall. I stood and stared for I don't know how long.

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