Art as Seen by This Beholder - A Perspective

Art, as defined by most dictionaries refers to beauty and the extraordinary. I think that’s a pretty good generalization because it leaves the interpretation of what constitutes ‘art’ up to each individual.

Art, to this beholder, comes in many forms.

The first that pops into my mind is my son. He was created by his father and me through love. Love is the epitome of beauty. Those whom are the result of love are beautiful and splendid in all their glory.

I have felt my son grow in my womb, created by an act of love. The whole concept of procreation still amazes me to this day. Creating life and nurturing that life in the warmth of the womb, forming each atom, particle, vein, organ and soul is miraculous, to say the least. Think about it for a moment. Is there a truer, more beautiful form of art than that of a human being?

Granted, not all children are born with ten toes, ten fingers, the perfect nose or ears. Some are born with disorders. Some are born with disfigurations. But all are born with souls and the soul is the most perfect form of art that comes to mind, as I reflect on my personal perspective of this month’s theme.

By the same token, parenthood is an art. It is probably the most difficult art to master, as there are no instructions. I’m sure if Dr. Spock were still alive he would beg to differ with me, but anyone who is a parent knows being a good parent is purely trial and error. You perfect your craft as you go, just as did Picasso and Van Gogh.

Love guides your way when you become a parent and take on the responsibility of leading the soul of your child to its beauty and full potential. It is frustrating, sometimes overwhelming, but rewarding and worth bringing this beautiful life form to full potential. As a result, you the parent grow and bring yourself to full potential, continuously painting the canvas of the soul with color, warmth and beauty.

My son is the most beautiful accomplishment of my life. Oh, sure, I’m living my dream as a writer – on my way anyway – but the beautiful being I am proud to call my son is the greatest pleasure of my life. We make each other laugh, which is one of the best gifts we give reciprocally. We’ve cried together over the death of his father. We’ve yelled and screamed at each other. But each and every day we say, “I love you” to each other. Do you see the colors in that? Is it not the most beautiful compilation of all that is art?

My son and I have gone through some dark periods, but love persevered. It was and is the guiding force. I am proud of the young man he has become. The sweet smiles he wore as a child are once again offered to all who meet him. He has a hugely compassionate heart; doing for others before himself. He wears his heart on his sleeve, just like his mom, so anyone who needs a hug can just reach out and there he is. He feels for the downtrodden and takes lost souls under his wing. He’ll give you his last dollar, even at the expense of being late on his bills. (We need to work on that!) My son, next to my brother, is the most caring, loving soul with whom I share kinship in the gene pool.

Earlier in this hub I mentioned that art comes in many forms. However, as writers come to learn, once the fingers start pounding the keyboard, the original thoughts take on a mind of their own and often get tossed aside. That’s the beauty of writing, actually.

The bottom line is this: the most beautiful form of art to me is my son. We’ve had hard times, but being just the two of us for most of his life, we have come together to paint the most beautiful canvas I’ve ever seen. Our canvas encompasses all the colors of the rainbow and thunderstorms alike. That’s the beauty of it all.

That, my friends, is art.