at one time, years ago, i had a very narrow view of what art, or at least good art, was. i was of the opinion that all these impressionists, cubists, modernists, etc. were all a load of con artists who had managed to pass their churned out tripe off as something special.
i felt the classicists were the only way to go. neo-classicists too, for that matter. michaelangelo, raphael, the ancient roman who did that unbelievably amazing bust of julius caesar [the likes of which was never touched by the renaissance artists.] then also people like maxfield parrish and michael whelan. frazetta, boris and their descendants. then i realized jim lee did amazing -art- then i re-discovered giger.
then i was lucky enough to be at the nexus of an amazing coincidence. i was 26. i was patient and open-minded. i was in an intro level art history class in college. the professor had an outstanding ability to translate her thoughts and feelings into words.
finally, i got it. i looked at 'fall' by jackson pollack and knew.. KNEW.. how he -felt- about fall. about the season, about what it meant to him, about where he lived, everything.. everything 'fall' meant to him, i knew. all from little spatters of paint on a gigantic canvas. and i knew that he was a truly great artist. he had conveyed to me, over years and countless miles, something no person could ever have spoken with mere words, no matter how eloquent.
i knew those others i liked before were great art too.. but now i knew why.
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