Real Art

What is real art?

What is real photography?

What is real writing?

What makes one person creative and one person not creative?

It seems that about 90% of the population of the US claims to be some sort of an artist. With digital cameras and phones with good cameras on them, photography is becoming more and more common. Self-publishing is pretty easy now, with Amazon's createspace, and various other publishers, giving more people the opportunity to become published authors.
Music, painting, videography...heck, even cooking is an art.

But what makes something art?

I saw a post on Instagram recently. It was a photo of a tree, with the bark in sharp focus, and the landscape behind it fades into the distance. The person posting it asked if the photo would be considered art or not.
It was a pretty picture. It was well framed, and looked like it had been well thought out. And the photographer had no clue if it was art.
What I said in answer to her question was that it depended on if she thought that it was art. If she liked it, if she thought it was pretty, and if she thought it was art, then it was art.
That's the thing about art. If you like it, then it's good. There are plenty of art critics, music critics, etc., etc. who may say differently, but oh well. There are definitely times that this doesn't apply. For example, if I would announce that I am going to start painting, following the cubism style, then swirled the colours on the canvas as though doing expressionism, then I am doing things wrong. I have chosen a type of art, and there are certain rules to follow within that art. However, I could go right now and start slapping paint on a canvas. If, when I decide that I am finished, I look at the piece and I like it, who is to say that it is not art? Probably lots of people, because people tend to be judgy jerks, but hey, their opinion really doesn't matter.

I went to quite a few art galleries when I was in Australia. Seems to be a thing to do there. Everyone kept suggesting art galleries, and it was chilly when I was there, so I went to some. And you know what? I determined that I did not have a grasp on art. All of this award winning art, and I had no reaction to most of it. 

But see, that's why art is so diverse. A painting or a photo that speaks to me may not speak to you. The same goes for a song, or a book. Any sort of art. Art is one of the things that show our differences. Have you ever noticed that in most dystopian books, art of any sort isn't allowed? Or the government has decided on one kind of art that is appropriate, and that is the only art permitted any longer. Because our responses to art make us unique. 

If you're an artist, by all means try to further your art. If you have a certain type of art you're pursuing, learn the rules and try to improve. But not to the point that you are going through the motions to make the art someone else says you should make. I like my photography, but I read about how to take better pictures fairly often. I do not, however, take all of the commentary to heart. Sometimes the photography "rules" make my photos look worse. At least in my opinion. So I do what I want. If I like how something is set up, I take the picture. Sometimes I also take one using the rules. But I usually prefer the one that doesn't follow the rules. It's the same with writing. I read a lot about how to write well. I do take a lot of it to heart, but I also do what feels good to me. 

Art is supposed to make you feel. What you feel depends on you. 

2 Rides

I was about 13  when I rode in the backseat of my grandparents' van to bring their new puppy home from the shelter. We became dog show partners, the bane of our obedience instructors' lives, and best buds. 
And I was 28 when I rode in the back of my grandparents' van to take their old dog to the vet to send him on that last journey that I can't join him on. 
Over half of my life, Shadow has been here. I've been here almost his whole life. Of all the dogs over the years, he's the one that has been in my life the longest.
We chose each other at the shelter, so I guess it's fitting that we sort of made the choice together that it was time for him to go.
It was a pretty day today. Shadow would have liked it. Sunny and snowy...I'd have had to pick ice balls out of the fur on his paws if we were out playing. And he'd be sneaking kisses with that big slimy tongue of his the whole time.
There's something to be said about being there at the beginning and the end. And basically, that is that it sucks. And it's also one of the best things you can do.