As I decided what to write about today, everything I am thankful for tried to overwhelm and muddy my brain. However, just last night as I flipped through a book,  I was reminded how lucky we are to have this thing and I will continue to celebrate and study it for the rest of my life. Today, I am going to discuss my love of art, which is quite up there on the scale of things I love (sushi of course, dominates the scale most days).

In the first grade, I painted a Cat in the Hat portrait that was nominated for an art award, and I am proud to say that 13 years later, that baby is still hanging on the walls of my elementary school. So yeah, you could say I’m an artist.

I’m actually somewhat kidding and somewhat not (the Cat in the Hat thing is real, I swear), because I have always felt a calling toward art. Whether it be creating it, or spending up to 3+ hours wandering around a museum (my brothers despise me for dragging them through this), art and writing go hand in hand.

These days, I tend to love and appreciate art more than I have in the past, because in my first semester of college I made the profound discovery that writing isn’t my only passion. I was enrolled in a 200 level History of Art class, and I quickly discovered that studying art was something I could get carried away in doing. After my boyfriend became tired of hearing about the influences of Monet and the techniques used by Neoclassical artists such as Jacques Louis David on our weekend date nights, he suggested that I take more classes in art history.

“Yes, I would like that, but I’m an English major,” I replied.

“Yes, and poetry is a form of art,” he countered. As the little light bulb flickered in my head, I thought to myself that a minor in art history sounded rather sophisticated, and that I was dating a genius.

After talking to my advisor, we lined up my classes and declared my minor, and now I can happily take as many history of art classes that I can possibly squeeze into my schedule. I am fascinated by so many things about art, but I think the most appealing is the fact that it’s just another expression of self.

As a writer, I am enthralled with the attempt to articulate the jumbled mess spinning inside one’s deranged self. When it comes to the arts, anything from dancing to photography to painting is a way to represent this, and I am overjoyed with the long list of options.

In the end, when it comes down to understanding the inner turmoil of the human being, literature and art go hand in hand, but sometimes the extra pop of color and movement give a sense of mystery in the open. I love art because of the freedom of interpretation it presents to the viewer. I hope someday to travel and continually study the styles, movements, techniques, symbolism, and visual effects of the infinite artworks around the world.

Joyfully,

Madeleine