Musings from the soul of a leber. Momentarily tamed but forever with itchings of wanderlust. Scratching and soothing my body and soul with sport, music and passages of verbal diarrhea.
I wrote last week about how I found it so easy to appreciate photography. A good photo, like any piece of good art, will make an impression that will resonate for long after its first viewing. I have never needed to know where it's from, what it's about, or who took it to appreciate its brilliance. Nonetheless, some sports photos can make an even greater initial impression. This genre of photography is definitely more subjective. Captures of a classic sporting moment will resonate far deeper with someone who is aware of its background. Sports photos can create an instant rapport, a yearning for that frozen moment in time which still reverberates in the now.
When I was younger, I would read all I could about Muhammad Ali. I had a poster of this photo below on my bedroom wall.
Visually, the photo is stunning. The colours and shadows are subtly balanced and the two boxers are positioned so perfectly you would think it was posed. The image encapsulates so much about Ali - his strength, braggadocio, beauty, power. He is so utterly dominant over Liston who is floored and submissive. The crowd seem relatively emotionless and the surrounding darkness refocus your attention on centre stage - on Ali.
Despite its naked brutality, boxing seems to be the most photogenic and cinematic of all sports.
And no better subject than Ali. The Irish sport of hurling also lends to striking images. Ballet- Irish Style by Johnew on Flickr.com
Maybe yesterday's blog on appreciating art revealed a pretentious streak in me eager to validate my writing with something of substance. Even though I find I have to make an effort to appreciate fine art, I enjoy the process in general. Obviously a painting makes an instant visual impression but I need to labour through the other aspects I mentioned yesterday to gain a greater appreciation. I've never felt this way with photography.
A good photo will act as a catalyst of impressions, ideas, assumptions and theories for my racing brain. There is no need for a background story or any extra information. My eyes will drink in all they can from the image. I love faces - particularly old and young ones. The images below I have taken from Flickr.com (Photographers - Coroner, Alexsandra Radonic, Jeridaking)
The second photo isn't of the same standard visually as the other two, but I think it's great. Even though the man isn't Irish, it inspires me with all sorts of stories of past deals and shenanigans in general. Some people might think photography doesn't have the same capacity for interpretation but that second photo would appeal to a wide variety of people in many different ways. The first and third photos are breathtaking reflections of the beauty that we see everyday but often miss. Abre los ojos!
Whenever I spend a bit of time in any city I try to do the usual touristy things before getting up to the inevitable mischief after which appreciation for churches, statues and galleries is greatly diminished. I have been to some of the great galleries like the Tate Modern in London, the Prado and Reina Sofia in Madrid and the Van Gogh musuem in Amsterdam. I usually read the gallery captions and guides, buy the audio tour (best one ever was in Forbidden city in Beijing - voiced by the eyebrow himself ... Roger Moore), stand in front of as many paintings as I can and try to get an understanding of the artist's life and why, or for who, he painted them.
When it comes to paintings I feel I have to know this background information to truly appreciate them. This probably indicates my inability to simply appreciate a painting for what it is - a work of art. Nonetheless, despite my initial zeal , the tour is usually rushed through in the end, fast forwarding the audio commentary. Maybe this just isn't the way art should be seen. One great piece of art should be enough to contemplate and digest over a day. So ...
I have chosen one painting for the day. It's "Starry Night" by Vincent Van Gogh.
Not very original I know but I liked the way it took a while to take in the full content of the painting. Initially, your eyes flicker over each of the exaggerated stars in the swirling night sky and then you realise there's a large, dark structure on the left that seems out of place with the quaint, cosy looking town below. Van Gogh painted this from memory in his room in an asylum. Maybe you could interpret this painting as revealing his sense of isolation on the fringes of society and despite all the beauty in the world, he still feels dark and lost - or else it's just a nice picture with some stars.
Below are the last 3 verses from the song "Starry Starry Night". Very melancholic, I know, but it's really a beautiful ode to a tragic man. These verses describe how even though he created beautiful works of art that would forever hang in "empty halls" they could never return his love so true ... cue throat clearing now.
Don McLean - Vincent (Starry, Starry Night) For they could not love you, But still your love was true. And when no hope was left in sight On that starry, starry night, You took your life, as lovers often do. But I could have told you, Vincent, This world was never meant for one As beautiful as you.
Starry, starry night. Portraits hung in empty halls, Frameless head on nameless walls, With eyes that watch the world and can't forget. Like the strangers that you've met, The ragged men in the ragged clothes, The silver thorn of bloody rose, Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me, How you suffered for your sanity, How you tried to set them free. They would not listen, they're not listening still. Perhaps they never will...
