Are We Lookin At The Same Art?

 

   Years ago when my Ward was in collage, SCAD was called Atlanta College of Art and Design.
         I was thrilled to have a child in art school, and such a good one. Plus it was near us, so my helicopter parenting skills would still be nourished. Ward, lived on campus, in a very old, beat up dorm, for two years. His last two years, in a brand spanking new modern dorms, right next to The High Art Museum in Downtown Atlanta. They tore down his old dorms, and a sculpting studio for a new wing of the High pre info will help you follow the path of my writing!!!

Museum. All of this
     I have always helped my kids, in any form I could, yes even in college. If they wanted me to proof a paper, or wash a load of clothes, I was there. Ward required special care, and I was in with both feet!
      He called me once and said, " Mom I need to read a book, and watch a movie about Basquiat, are you in?" " Of course, I will write a paper, you write a paper and let's see what the other sees!" gleefully I replied.
    A few days later, he came over and we shared our papers.
    I slowly looked up from his, and said, " Did you watch the movie? Did you read the same book I did?"
    He smiled and smiled some more.
    This cannot be possible, you saw a totally different art form, a different person, and no sadness.
    I saw a life laden with genius and drugs, a poet, beautiful handwriting, someone who loved him, but could not save him, and many people that helped him go down a bad path of destruction.

    Ward, smiled and smiled again.

    " Mom, I was just suppose to critique his art, not his everyday life,"
      My voice was getting louder, " How can you separate the two?"
      " You have to separate it, to be fair", sang my artist son>
     " There is no fair in art, or life, really!! His life was his art, angst and turmoil and heroin!!!", now I may have been preaching! Ward is thinking, looking at me funny.
      " I am not saying you are wrong mom, we just see things at a different angle!" costly art school student of mine.
      He left, and felt confident with his paper, and my job was done. He left my paper in a heap, and thanked me for my input. He received a B on that paper, and we were both happy about that. However I did have some questions for the teacher!!! Maybe he needed to do some more research also!!!
      Ward graduated with honors, never missed a day of college, and was never late to class!! But...I think he did not get Basquiat totally.
       Yesterday when the hubs and I went to The High Museum, to see The Basquiat notebooks, and few art pieces, I moved slowly. He was basically a street artist on drugs, but he did have a story to tell, and I feel thankful to have seen some of his work.
       I ran my hand over his work, careful not to touch, but to feel whatever he had left behind, talking to Ward at the same time. Telling my boy, that I wish he was with me, and I could share what I was trying to say all those years ago. " Ward, look at his handwriting, that tells you so much, and why did he tear the pages out of the notebook and leave the torn edges before he framed it!!!"  There is so much more here besides his simple street art graffiti looking work, there is a big story about his life. " Who uses just composition books for sketching?? No One!" " Was he crazy? I think he was off center for sure, but crazy, ask Jackson Pollock or Picasso ?" It is all in the looking at art, just like you said, years ago.
      I think we were both right, and maybe a little wrong too.
    Dad and I enjoyed ourselves, while we were walking around, dad said, " I think we are walking on where Ward has walked, and probably slept!" since the wing was built over your old dorms. I told him he was right, I felt you very strongly, "Did you see the collages by Muniz? Oh Ward, they were like Where's Waldo!"
Beautiful art around every corner, how lucky you were to go to school here.
       I feel we still see the same art, don't you sweet boy.
       Love you and Basquiat!