Getting to Know SAM
Poverty has its advantages, among them the ability to snag a free ticket to the Seattle Art Museum through the national Museums for All program. So it was that I ventured forth into the chill morning fog to take a bus and then a light rail downtown.
I arrived without any preconceptions. After all, I have never formally studied art – at least not the art composed with paints, inks, clay, rocks, ceramics, wood, and so on. I have devoted my life to creating art with words. In a way writing is a more malleable, diverse, and elegant art form than these others, because if you are not pleased with your first result, you can try again by erasing, recreating, and rearranging your words, while if you create a painting or sculpture and you blow it, you generally have to start from scratch. Be that as it may, I was not there to criticize but to learn what I could from what I saw. In many cases, observing what could be done with other materials inspired me with what might be able to be done with words.
Regardless of the mediums they use, artists are attempting to transmit a message. How precisely they are able to render their messages, whether specific or abstract, is the measure of the success of the piece. Observing the beauty and heart-stirring quality of some abstract works, in fact, caused me to wonder why more such work is not being done in the literary world. There is some, of course; for example, when I first read Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer I was in awe of the frequent surrealistic passages, some of which would go on for several pages. But there is not much abstraction in literature, at least not much that’s done well. The most obvious excuse is that many readers would not put up with extended passages that they might initially perceive as nonsense. Still, when it is done right, abstract writing is very effective.
Several rooms at SAM are devoted to indigenous artwork or artwork from particular nations. This caused me to muse on an artist’s background and roots as sources of inspiration. In this, artists from cultures with deep ancestral mythologies have an advantage over others, such as many Americans, who might be confused about their genealogical pasts. Of course, that confusion can itself be a source of inspiration. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter where an artist comes from; what matters is how effectively that artist is able to use whatever tools he chooses to depict his inner visions.
The majority of the art at SAM is amazing, but there were also some pieces that gave me real what the hell moments. For instance, a so-called artist took a photo of a shopping receipt from a local market; that photo, enclosed in a wide plain border, is framed and placed in a gallery with other real works of art. What the hell? There are other paintings that are simple one color – nothing else – in a frame. What the hell? And these people somehow manage to get paid a lot of money and even receive adulation for this stuff. Sigh.
In contrast, there is a room full of Rembrandt etchings. Most of them are very small; I had to take off my glasses and lean in so I was inches away to be able to discern the fine details. But oh my God what details! I was astonished that anyone could compose with such complex loveliness in so small a space. Nearby were other traditional oil paintings that astounded me with their beauty.
All in all, the few hours I spent wandering around SAM were well rewarded with sublime inspiration. And I fully concede, as my old mentor Harlan Ellison put it, that “one man’s nightmare is another man’s wet dream.” I can’t really envision anyone getting inspired by an old shopping receipt, but I suppose there are people who might find a single vast field of color elegant. Who knows? In the meantime, there was plenty to please me and even encourage a return visit sometime in the future.
