At times, I've heard and over-heard people talk about how hard it is for them to 'get' certain artists. Modernism did that. Still does. Sure, before Modernism there was art that made you stop and scratch at you head, but it was Modernism that really went at this ethos hard.
Life can sometimes be hard to get. Most of the time sometimes. Even when it does make sense, the next day you can awake confused by that which was so crystal yesterday. Or you can come home from your jog, aware of that which you didn't 'get', when you left the house in the early morning. 'Getting' anything on this planet is relative – relative to when and if you are 'getting' it or not. Somewhere around the beginning of the 1900's, artists began to feel the need to transcribe and retell this relativity.
This turned into quite a tricky pursuit. One had to be very precise with how far they chose to push the boat out. Just far enough so that it had to be 'got', but not so hard that it was 'forgot'. Some were better than others at this delicate balance and you can now see the proof of it if you were to ever break up the monotony of your cycle of trying to pretend that you are getting all there is to get and every now and then headed off to museum. Or, if thats not your thing, you could head off to Palm Springs in the Californian desert and look at houses. If that is too far, then just walk around your local, densely populated metropolis – there's bound to be some Modernism stuck, stenciled, sprayed or slipped onto to a wall or three.
I don't mind it when I don't 'get' something at first. It makes my life feel less insane. Calms me. Makes everything better. For, if I am looking at something that clearly does exist - something that even others can see – and I can't make sense of it, then this pales the significance of the things in my days that I can't see and don't 'get'. Makes it easier to just 'believe' and not have to 'know'. Life is better when you just believe.
The thing is, that with Ed Ruscha, probably my favorite living artist, it was different. He is very much a child – or grandchild – of Modernism. His work is a natural part of the evolution chain that runs from Dada, through the New York School and across to the West Coast. Because he is a Modernist Artist, I’m sure there's people who love him because they get him. Not me. I love him because he 'got' me. It happened like that, the very first time I saw his work in the flesh.
I guess you could lump Mr. Ruscha in with a whole bunch of other people under the banner of Pop-Art. I say “guess”, because I don't really see him that way. According to people like Robert Hughes, Pop-Art has to do with drawing your mind back to that which you just pass along in your everyday, The Mundane, and forcing you to really look at it. What they hoped to achieve by wanting to make you face The Mundane, varied from artist to artist and herein lies my personal issue with grouping such completely different artists with such a broad brush. (Like that pun?). His art transcend the limitations of Pop-Art. It's speaks less of culture and more of 'vision'.
To me, Ruscha's work is about the purest celebration of the eye. Of sight. Of seeing. Of beauty for beauty's sake. Sure there's a message there, but only once you surrender to The Aesthetic first. Let it in. Just look and love and wait. His work has gone through and around several phases, but he is most famous for his explorations of the beauty of Letters and Words as they appear. Letters as images and Words as pictures - as vision-entities in their own right. This is why he got me right away and why I bring him up here today.
I love letters. Always have. Serif or sans. As vowels or consonants. As words. As paragraphs. As syllables. A few in a row or a whole group - it doesn't matter to me. I just love how they look. They never sound as good as they look. Ruscha brought this, which was just an emotion, out of me and gave me a physical representation that I could attach a conscious experience to. Hang my emotions on his realisation.
If I had to pick a favourite letter, the one even before i had even heard of the great Califonian artist, it would have to be the letter 'T', in it's capitalised stance. And if you add a lower case 'a'? Wow! Now you really got me.
Ta
Look at that!!
That
Great!!
That
Take. Taken. Tale. Tall.
And 'o' can also look great as well:
Took. Toward. Topple.
In fact, now that I think about it, any vowel with a 'T' is a thing of beauty for me.
Tired. Tip. Tirade. Toll. Tug. Tear. Tare. Tired. Tuppence.
Hmmm – 'Tired' twice? I must be tired.... Well, I am actually. So in honour of Ed Ruscha and of art that needs time to focus and then 'got', I'm just gonna make this blog about the letter 'T' (It'll be a bit like a Sesame Street episode where they are sponsored by a letter and words.)
What does it all mean? Tell me when you 'get' it....
Tired. Taken. Took. Tear. Today. Toll.
Train. Target. Truth. Train. Tell. Tomb. Too. To. Train. Tired. Take. Tip. Truth. Tug. Took. Take. Taken. Tired
Hmmmm. That's prob the most honest thing I’ve ever done on here.....
