Apparatus and Hand

When I was a child, I used to have a vivid recurring dream. I grew up in a nice home in Redlands, California, which was on the corner Franklin Ave. and Garden St.. We had a half-circle driveway which entered and exited on the two different streets. Across Franklin was an orange grove where we, as kids, would run around and play pretend. It was the middle-America life for us back then, even though we were on the West Coast.

This dream happened a few times when I was very young, if I recall correctly. It would begin with me standing in the front yard of our house, and I would hear pounding footsteps. (I would later discover the footsteps were from me hearing my own heartbeat as I slept.) My chest would compound and fear would rise as I would turn to gaze up Franklin Ave. I somehow knew something was coming from that direction and so its pace quickened. Sure enough, cresting the hill and streaming down the street was a creature about 4 feet tall. The best way for me to describe this creature would be to say it looked like a small Snuffleupagus draped in a white bed sheet, and covered with old, antique plastic play telephones. Dozens of telephones. This thing would zoom to the front of our house, and for some strange reason, I'd get on its back and go for a ride around the corner. That's pretty much when the nightmarish feelings would awaken me.

I can't say what spawned this dream so many times. Even now, some 40 or so years later, I can still picture it, but am at a loss as to why I had it. The only odd revelation was that it seemed to be directly linked to my heartbeat. And as enigmatic as it was, I now find myself wanting to examine it's meaning. Bear with me as this is completely spontaneous and purposefully not thought out.

My suspicion is that this dream was manifest from a combination of deep seeded desires. A) I loved adventure as a kid and getting on something as strange as the telephone monster seems fitting. Bear in mind, this was during a time when mothers and school teachers would iterate how important it was not to get into (or onto, in this case) a strange vehicle. B) My mother used to tell friends that when I was about 3 years old, I'd point to the TV screen as we watched I Love Lucy and say that that was what I wanted to do when I grew up. So, perhaps my desire for immediate and constant attention is represented by the phones covering the telephone monster's body.

Enter Apparatus and Hand . . .

Apparatus and Hand, by Salvador Dalí, is a pre-Surrealism painting which was completed in 1927. It's oil on panel, and it was Dalí's first work after returning from military service when he was 23 years old. According to experts, it was during this period that Freud's publications about psychopathology and dream interpretation were popular with Dalí, and so this piece was inspired by Freud's writings. Seemingly, the "apparatus" figure is representative of Dalí, while the grotesque hand is representative of his mind. Around him are visions of what truly beleaguers his thoughts, and thus implies what influences him to some degree.

This artwork was one of the first paintings to strike me when I was much younger and in college. At the time, I was busy being an actor when I wasn't bogged down by being a student. Art in this form wasn't really a passion for me then, but I suspect this piece is what triggered it for me. Since then, I've spent quite a lot of time studying the details, contemplating their meaning, and almost finding something unseen in previous viewings each time I looked at it. I knew the history of this piece was available online, but I never really wanted to know about it. Art, for me, is something I allow to speak to me as is and without context. If I don't know the historical context, then I don't want to know it because I'd rather art have its own uninfluenced voice. (You can see this effect quite well in my previous post, L'Ange du Foyer.)

I strategically used the term "enigmatic" above because that's what this painting has been for me for a very long time. It wasn't until about a month ago that I discussed it with a co-worker. You see, I had received a very heart-warming comment in my L'Ange du Foyer post which started the conversation. When we dove into picking this piece apart and analyzed its details, we both came pretty close to what experts have since determined with regard to its meaning. Yet, for over 20 years, it's been an enigma and a source of incredible imagination. Apparatus and Hand has been a very slow metronome where each beat reminded me to stop thinking about the here and now, to stop thinking about tomorrow and the next day, and to take a moment to contemplate the surreal. To stop and let my imagination run around and have some fun.

And so, I've returned to writing. Not just because this piece has been an intimate part of my life for two decades, but also because of that comment. If what I type here can make someone see their life in a new, encouraging light, then why should I deprive them of that? I have a gift, and so I've chosen to continue to use it.

Life

Considering the recent changes to my career, life has taken a turn that I had not anticipated: I'm ridiculously busy. Enjoying and analyzing art is a passion of mine and I do not intend to abandon it. Please know that it is my intention to return with my rather unqualified aesthetic reflections when I'm able to. For now, please accept my sincere appreciation for your unrelenting support, frequent returns, and impassioned determination to learn more about amazing, jaw-dropping, eye-stunning works of art. Don't ever let go of what others have done eons before our time. Art binds us all, is blind to color and creed, and will live forever in this digital age.

Blessings to all.

-Chad Wingerd

I'M BACK, BABY!

Nike of Samothrace

I love the term breathtaking. So few things earn the right to be called breathtaking but when they do, oh man! It's exhilarating to suddenly encounter something that stops the world and causes your vision and mind to appropriately narrow. It could be another person, the look on someone's face, a smile, a piece of art, architecture; this list goes on and on, but you get the idea. What makes the experience of having my breath taken even more amazing is the potential for awkward silence; I love it! Though, I do digress.

Steven Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan is a great example of something breathtaking. I first saw the masterpiece at a small theater in Medford, Oregon. As the early scenes played upon the screen and the beach invasion began, my breath was thoroughly sapped as I watched a soldier instinctively trudge through the bloody water and sand in search of his severed arm. As he picked it up and headed back towards the front line, I can recall the squeeze I felt both in my chest and in my heart. As the final scenes played and Ryan turned to his wife and asked, "Tell me I'm a good man," I realized I had just watched the first movie in my life where I wasn't sure how to feel. The experience was simply breathtaking.

When something is so beautifully uncommon, it causes a physical reaction where it feels as if a cement truck has driven over my chest. From the involuntary collapsing of my lungs to the pulsating rush of blood to my head, for me it's a thrill. I don't feel like I need to put myself into dangerous positions or exotic locales to then force the same reaction. No, having it always be happenstance makes the experience all the more appreciated and genuine. From simple things like when my niece comes over to give me a hug, to complex experiences like the time I emerged from a dense forest only to myself on the edge of a boulder overhanging a deep gorge rife with greenery; these breathtaking moments are unscripted and deeply cherished.

Nike of Samothrace, (also known as Winged Victory of Samothrace), by an unknown artist, is a marble sculpture of the Greek Goddess Nike (Victory) as she descends from the heavens to pay tribute to those who have just won a great sea battle. Estimated to have been sculpted around 190 B.C., the piece is one of the most celebrated and famous works of art known to mankind. Accolades aside, what is most striking about the figure is the collision of violent motion, grace, and sudden stillness all culminating into something angelic and yes, breathtaking.

Admittedly, it's not easy to come up with words for this piece. If you haven't noticed, I've avoided them quite a bit and more so than any other work of art that I've written about. It's because I feel it's unnecessary and unwarranted. Here before us is something that should be quietly admired in person. Yet its embodiment of taking breath away is reason enough to at least acknowledge it. Indeed, the woman's figure and curves are tantalizing, and her 2100 year old clothing shows great similarity to what is still being designed in fashion today, but what more can I say? I feel as if I'm already belittling its significance and beauty. In other words, I don't know how to feel about this sculpture, and I certainly don't want to imply how others should feel, either. It is breathtaking and my hope is others understand this, too.

Captain Miller grabbed Ryan and pulled him closer to his face. With his last breath, he uttered, "James? Earn this ... earn it." It was one of the most powerful moments in the entire film and I feel directly correlates with what I try to do with each blog I write. I'm not here to unveil the secrets and mysteries surrounding beautiful works of art for I am no expert. I'm here merely to express how certain works can be appreciated by showing they coincide with regular human emotions. And through my words I hope to earn nothing more than increased self-respect. For in my daily life, I can be uncouth and vividly different than most others around me. Yet when I sit down to write and as dulcet tones pour into my ears helping to separate me from my surroundings, I shed every ounce of who I am to have my breath taken and to pay my respects to art.

I hope I've earned this.

A Lady in a Fur Wrap

Long-suffering isn't a term often used these days. And why not? Bad things happen to really great people all the time. It's a fact of life that along the paths we take to secure our future, there will be bumps and obstacles. Yet, let's not forget that we may also encounter an audience along the way. And like hecklers at a comedy club, there will be some who apathetically and selfishly attempt to disrupt what we're doing.

There is no magic button or super power we can take advantage of to avoid these troubles. Being a human means we will chance upon moments that are trying and laced with the self-loathing of others. Even the most famous and successful end up victims. Old adages and silly clichés won't hold the answers or bring restitution. We will have to take each annoying and frustrating encounter step-by-step, pulling from our wisdom, leaning on our ability to be patient, and hoping to find support in our loved ones to make it through. For the fortunate, it may seem laborious to endure the hours and days it can take to break through, but it could be a lot worse. For the less-fortunate, it can be hell and the only resource for strength they can count on is them self.

What's great about bad things happening, though, are the wonderful lessons we learn. When we face trials that challenge us to our very core, we quickly find out what we're capable of accomplishing--of surviving. The wind knocked out of us, the rug pulled from under our feet, the support beams yanked from the walls that surround our lives; we discover what is ultimately most important, cherished, and essential for living. Through it all, we relearn what it means to be truly content. As the world around us shakes violently, the chafe is loosed and the dust that gathered falls to the floor. With our humanity exposed and completely vulnerable, we are given the gift of sight--pure sight.

A Lady in a Fur Wrap, by Doménikos "El Greco" Theotokópoulos (1541-1614), is an oil-on-canvas painting of what is believed to be his long time lover, Jeronima. Typically known for his Biblical themed works that used harsher colors and lighting, El Greco steps away from his usual repertoire to illustrate an individual who is both breathtaking and seemingly timid. With gentle, smooth strokes and subdued shades, El Greco creates a sense of warm beauty surrounded by a shadowy coldness. Clearly, the subject is a woman of some wealth and influence, but again, the story of who she is and what she symbolizes is all in her eyes.

With a piece like this, I'm amazed at the complexity found in its simplicity. It's just a painting of a woman against a dark background. But in the upper right corner, I notice what appears to be the edge of a stone wall or doorway. My senses are then tickled to presume she is outside somewhere, maybe in an alleyway or a dense marketplace at night. And then I'm drawn to her face and eyes, and everything else fades. Her look is deceiving. Is it, "Come hither", or does she know something from experience and is now confronted with eminent peril of which she will triumph because of her resolve?

A close and beloved friend of mine recently went through a long string of heartbreaking and extremely frustrating circumstances. Her life was suddenly halted by an emotional challenge that was nearly too much to bear. And when she began to barely see the light at the end of the tunnel, her personal world took a battering as the selfishness of others kicked her while she was down. Left isolated and very limited, she and her companions did what they could to trek through the muck and mire of what was left of their lives at that time. Recently, however, my friend announced that things were finally coming together and life was slowly working itself back to normal. She was bruised and scarred, but she had conquered forces out of her control. Through the love and support of her friends, through her tenacious will and inner strength, and by finding out how much she was truly capable of suffering through, she not only survived, she triumphed.

When I see this amazing piece of art, I immediately think of my friend. I am sure the same look on the face of this woman can be found on her. My friend is still the same person. Smart, whimsical, charming, full of life and energy, yet now with greater wisdom and a deeper, more determined look in her eyes. The best part about this unfortunate adventure was when she started talking about how things were going to change for the better. It was reasonable for her to feel anger and frustration, but she didn't give in to a victim mentality. She merely reached forward with all her might to emerge from the crater that had pierced her life, and she stood at the edge with a new look upon her face.

I know what she's going to do now. She's going to keep moving forward, never looking back. She's going to be stronger, wiser, and that much more special to those of us who know her.

This is for you, MM.

A Man Looks at the Hudson River from the New York Tower of the George Washington Bridge on Dec. 22, 1936

The hustle and bustle of life moves quickly. If you're not careful or are one prone to misfortune, you're probably going to miss quite a bit of it. There is no replay button or time machine to go back and relive moments of life that should have or could have been lived with gusto. It's just the way things are and along the paths, each of us succumbs to forces we are unable to control thereby skipping passed experiences and memories that would have been cherished. I suppose you could call it fate or karma; the bottom line is you're only able to live if you choose to, moment by moment. Or are we?

There are some who seem to be framed in by the incredible world around them but unable to attain meaningful moments. Dragged down by misjudgment, foolish assumption, or unfair bias, these individuals whoosh by moments in their lifetime that would have otherwise meant more. They are held back by others in their lives simply because they hold themselves to a higher standard, aren't willing to take the same risks, or wish to not be a burden. They are all still unique individuals with talents and worth which would easily be a blessing for many, but the devious, selfish nature of the majority take advantage of their sensitivity, anchoring them to a life that is mediocre and wrought with loneliness.

Each of us has choices. Unfortunately, most choose to ignore nobility and meekness. In the shadows and around corners not often traversed are the souls of amazing people who just wish to please. They are kind, they are motivated, and they are filled with the strongest hope any human can imagine. In the eyes of those who are ultimately insecure and threatened, they are mocked and disregarded as weak. But it's when no one is looking that their true colors shine. Stopping to admire a view, enjoying the scent of a flower, seeing an object that reminds them of someone special; they are the true embodiment of what most outspoken and far more popular people claim to admire. But claiming isn't enough and all too often, they are just words. Holidays, birthdays, get-togethers, all kinds of special and meaningful social activities occur and left out are the "odd-balls." It's been that way for eons. There, on the precipice of what could be a more fulfilling life for everyone are the folks who just don't fit in, aren't regarded in social circles, and are often ignored or forgotten. Forlorn, each one of them hurts, but it's not often you would know. It's just not in their nature to tell.

A Man Looks at the Hudson River from the New York Tower of the George Washington Bridge on Dec. 22, 1936, by Jack Rosenzwieg (unknown date birth) of the Associated Press, courtesy of the New York City Municipal Archives, is a black and white image of a man gazing out over the Hudson River towards New York City. Thought to be one of several archival photos meant to capture New York's ever-growing expansion, the piece gives both graphic engineering detail of the George Washington Bridge as well as an idea of how the NYC skyline looked in 1936. Even more tantalizing is the vivid detail of the photo almost giving the viewer a sense of color in the steel and sky. Capturing a lone man standing on the relatively newly built bridge, Rosenzwieg froze a moment of time and history that can mean so much more to the discerning eye: What it's like to feel insignificant in a giant world.

The Industrial Revolution was a marvelous time of tenacity and ingenuity. With great detail, we're able to see just how precise and rigid things were built during that era. Lighting was nearly perfect for this shot and with the haze blanketing NYC in the background, the picture ends up embodying more than just a record of man's greatest achievements. It also captures what it's like to be someone right in the middle of an amazing life but for the fact that he is on his own, alone, and unbeknownst to anyone else around him. Faceless, shadowy, he rests against the frames of what is his life at that very moment in time watching a burgeoning metropolis go about its business, nary a thought dedicated to him.

Who is he? What are his thoughts?

Does it matter?

You know, being charitable doesn't mean you are noble. Millions of faceless people all around the world are blessed through the spirit of giving found in others, yet some of those same people who share their wealth are the ones who ignore the face right next to them. Signing the check to help those ravaged by hunger and then off to a party to behave as peacocks and celebrate popularity. Oh no, wait! Let's update our Facebook pages with images. Let's hoist our fun into the faces of everyone else without regard to our audience. Because being self-absorbed and broadcasting our in-the-moment moments are just fine and what others should be doing, too. Right?

But what about the guy on the bridge? He's not a charity case but what surrounds a man does not make the man. Strip away his life, his job, his clothing, his home and expose his core. What you have left is another human being, pumping the same colored blood through his veins, feeling the same feelings you and I do, standing there utterly vulnerable and merely hoping to be appreciated. Merely hoping the staring faces around him won't begin to laugh as they have so many times before.

Take time to appreciate those around you who don't have as much. Cast aside ill-conceived notions of possession, ignore stereotypes, and refuse to give in to your own fears and insecurities. Just be good at heart and to all mankind. That's it.

The Knitting Girl

Do you pine? I do and it has become something that consumes my mind on a daily basis. Imagining the things I want to achieve, the things I wished I would have achieved, places I'd like to go, people I'd like to see; on and on my synapses fire off signals. The interesting part is how the environment around me can shape my pining. Little things that catch my eye send my mind into a flurry of the "what could be" category of imagination and off I go. Earn this, find that, discover something, reaching it; forever the twisting of my deepest desires flutter about in my head.

I suppose it's human nature to conjure up what ifs and I'll be bold enough to suggest that denying them would be an atrocity to living. Where would we get inspiration? How would be find motivation? Wouldn't we just be insulting on inherent freedoms of existence?

There really isn't one thing that garners the majority of my pining. In fact, on some levels, all of the things I hope to achieve or wish to earn are tied together. For I've discovered I cannot have one thing without adjusting the other things I also want to have. To be rather superficial, let's take the Audi S5 as an example. By and large, this particular vehicle is one of my favorites. It's not too unpractical, it's not super expensive, and the idea that I could someday own one is within reasonable grasp. However, to be able to purchase one, I need to adjust other aspects of my life. Personally and professionally, there needs to be advancement and thus, determination. And there you have it! Pining for the Audi S5 has come full circle and I am now imaging where improvement is needed so I can achieve greater success and therefore buy the car of my dreams.

Silly as this may sound, I still hope it makes sense. Take away the materialistic qualities of the example and you have revealed the emotional connections. Marriage? A family? The ability to experience the world and other cultures? Discovering your genealogical roots? Each one of these desires is tied to an emotional cue which would then require your life to shift on at least two levels. The only responsibility you have left to your heart and mind is to achieve.

The Knitting Girl, by William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825-1905), is a simple painting of a young female seated next to a tree, knitting and gazing off towards the horizon. At first glance, the piece is extremely realistic and delicately created. The subject's skin is supple and free of blemishes suggesting she comes from at least a modest, middle-class family. Her clothing, however, is rather common and for me, this suggests she may be in the employment of a local seamstress or family friend. Yet the detail and enchanting light pull the viewer to the more important theme of Bouguereau's work: What is she thinking?

I notice her eyes almost immediately. They are sad yet seemingly hopeful. Her hands appear to be busy with her knitting but her face says she's imaging something else. Therefore, this piece is intriguing to me. You have an excellent example of why art is fascinating. Some may wish to indulge the color and precision while others seek to find answers to the suggested evocations. For me, it's the latter and her tender expression makes me wonder, does she want something else? Is she hoping to find more out of life? Where could she be in the recesses of her mind?

Honestly, who doesn't pine? We all have things we do each day that are routine or necessary, and I truly feel it's impossible not to imagine better. It doesn't have to be about what you're doing in the here and now, it could be about things that warm your heart or tickle your fancy. And in each instance, we're able to find reason and hope; to find the vitality we need to push forward and reach new heights. It's not about envy or coveting what others have that you may not. It's about advancing who you are as a person, as a sibling, as a spouse, as a member of society. Pining for what could be is much different than pining for what should be. Making that distinction is important and once averted, then the only challenge left is to reach. How does this painting tie it all together? By implying that to accomplish one's dreams and goals will require meticulous knitting of one's life and emotions. Otherwise, everything will just fall apart.

Woman III

"To me, fair friend, you never can be old.

For as you were when first your eye I eyed.

Such seems your beauty still."

--William Shakespeare

My soul aches. I admit it. At the risk of exposing more about myself than I probably should, to whom shall I turn to admonish such strife? For in my proclamation there can be redemption, or at the very least, some relief. To bottle up truths about myself can only perpetuate circumstance as I am a firm believer in learning from my past.

For a few, the notion of my heartfelt desires are no mystery. I live a life that is filled with expression and the inability--at times--to restrain my proclamations. That's just who I am and I make no apologies for wearing my heart on my sleeve. I've always been a passionate man, it was something I gleaned from my mother. Over the years, through maturity, and thanks to hundreds of mistakes, I've learned to be much more tactful. Yet the aching in my soul is two fold.

One side is riddled with regret for the times I've hurt others. Mind you, this hasn't been a frequent occurrence but each one has been significant enough to create a scar that I fondly recognize as catalysts to improve. Amongst these scars are a few that stand out and it is to these individuals that my begging for forgiveness may never be appeased. For I cannot rid myself of scars, can I? They are reminders of what was done or said, and while someone I've hurt may cover my scar and tell me it's okay, it remains. To you, you, and you--you know who you are, please know this.

The other side of my soul is plagued with desire. Directly connected and in relation to the adjacent, my pension for fantasizing about the "could be" has built a house of cards. Each jostle in life causes a collapse for which my fantastical imagination shields me from reluctance in rebuilding. After I emerge from my idealistic haze, I see that same house of cards as it was and push forward in hopes of realizing my dreams. Somewhere out there are answers and resolutions, are finalities and dead ends. They can be great, they can be sad, they can be apathetic but there they be.

Woman III, by Willem de Kooning (1904-1997), is an oil on canvas, abstract expressionism painting and one of a series of six paintings of women as the central theme. Using bold, uncouth lines and sweeps, de Kooning exhibits Picasso-like interpretation with his "action painting" style. Of particular note are the female's engaging eyes and large breasts which seem to imply a superficial attempt to appear beautiful. Of subtle note are the female's hands and blur of movement from her waist down which seem to imply a sense of hurry underneath a superficial gaze.

Not much is known about the intent of what de Kooning was attempting to express. But that's why art is so fascinating and it lends to our imaginations as we feel through our own impressions. This particular piece stood out for me because it portrays the same emotional implications that are currently aching my soul. For I see a woman trying in earnest to be someone she isn't in an effort to hide her real pains and insecurities. The work displays what appears to be relative calm albeit feigned but the motion in the background and just below her breasts seem to indicate deeper seeded troubles. It's as if she's pretending to be polite or charming but it's all a mask for emotional issues she avoids or ignores.

She stands, staring at me with her crooked nose and flowing hair, and I can't help but feel sorry for her. She seems to be hurting herself and I sense similar strife in her that I struggle with thus making this a piece that I instantly identify with. Each day my heart wants to put aside what I truly feel so that I can concentrate on what's important for the day. But my soul won't let me and thus I have to carefully navigate through each obstacle ensuring both aspects of myself are relatively satisfied. For me, I refuse to ignore either of them and when I see this woman, I'm reminded of all those times when I had.

It all boils down to understanding the roots of our desires. Why do we want what we want? And once you've figured that out, you ask why of the whys. You reach down and find the very purpose for your will to live, to succeed, to push forward and pursue your dreams. Love. Beauty. Forgiveness. Peace.

"A thing of beauty is a joy forever; its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness."

--John Keats