This is a rather hard one for me to write on. Throughout my entire life, art hasn’t really affected me. I just can’t connect. The few that I can, I find myself pondering it, which is a good thing, but I don’t see the beauty of the piece. The impact of the piece is more of how difficult it might or might not have been for the artist. I see the days, weeks, and months that the artist took on the piece. I think of the difficulty levels, the brush strokes, the shapes, the inspirations, the emotions, everything that the casual observer might not see. I never see the piece. I see the artist. I guess that’s more of an uplifting way of seeing it, but sometimes I’d just like to look at the piece and say, “Wow, that’s really beautiful.”
There is one form of art that I react to the piece. I have seen those that didn’t see it as art, but I find these people to be very misinformed on this matter. Classical music. However, I can’t listen to it on an iPod or from the internet. Speakers and headphones, no matter the quality, just don’t carry the same weight. To hear a full concert band in person, to be awash in the tender embrace of those warm vibrations, is heavenly. People talk about how they feel their music, but they talk about how they feel it in their hips or their feet. Classical music… I feel it all over. I can pick out the trumpets, the flutes, the clarinets, and even the gut-moving bass of the tuba line. I played tuba in marching band, and hearing the movement of the tuba line can almost bring a tear to my eye. Find me weird or strange if you’d like, but that’s just how I am, and it’s what I enjoy.