Art in My Life

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Art in My Life

Growing up, the first forms of art I was most exposed to were literature and music. Both served the same purpose in my life: to take my mind away from the present. Their effect on me was the same. When listening to a song or reading a book my mind was so focused on what I was doing that I was oblivious to the world around me. My mom frequently complained about my infatuation with books because whenever she called me to run an errand while I was reading, I never heard her. She assumed that it was because I was purposely pretending not to hear to avoid doing work. In order to snap me out of my daze one of my siblings always had to come to my room and physically shake me. That was the level at which I was engrossed in books.

Earlier on in my life I mostly read adventure stories and science fiction novels, none of which ever jeopardized my innocence. Raised in a strict environment, I guess I could say that my parents shielded me from the harsh nature of the world around me. The kind of books I read and the limited range of television shows I watched helped to maintain my distorted image. I accepted society as a well-oiled machine, which had no kinks or aberrations. Gradually as I entered high school and started reading higher level literature, my views changed. No piece of literature did as much to jar me into reality as The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison.

I was 11 years old when I first read The Bluest Eye. I had seen it around the house for a while but never started reading it. Usually I would pick it up take one look at the front cover and put it down. On the front cover it had a picture of a young black girl holding a white doll with blue eyes. At that age there was always something else to do, b...

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...of ignoring the emotionally unsettling. In art the taboo of keeping quiet can be fought if not defeated. The artist tells the truth in his art for it is influenced by these emotions. He can’t lie about what he feels especially in his work. His work is the medium through which he conveys these feelings to the world without inhibition. In a way the artist also deflects this truth in his work. When a painting, music literature, or another form of art elicits emotions in us too strong to bear, or tells us truths we can’t handle we are always left with the option to lie to ourselves about it, trying to convince ourselves that it’s only art. The artist however, doesn’t worry about seeing something the world doesn’t see. All she can hope is to represent his vision in its pure form. If he or she has done this that he can rest knowing his work has served its function.
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