“Real art is one of the most powerful forces in the rise of mankind, and he who renders it acceptable to as many people as possible is a benefactor of humanity.” – Zoltan Kodaly
Art comes in many forms and can truly move you. Whether it is a photograph of a mountain you want to see some day, a sculpture of an inspiring person you wish to be like, or a painting of a field of flowers you can practically smell, it all touches a part of us that brings joy. It could be an intensifying piece from a symphony or the gentle movements of graceful dancers in the performing arts that brings back a memory or entices a moment.
Art can open our eyes to other cultures, times and ways of life. Teaching us, inspiring us and so often an encouragement to keep moving. One of my favorite forms of art is photography. A mood can be captured with the press of a button. The right lighting and composition can create a response you never expected.
As the winter months come upon us soon, why not plan a trip to a local museum? You can escape a little with the beauty of art in a nice warm environment. Just like stopping to smell the flowers (natural art if you will) you need to take time to appreciate the beauty that has been created all around you.
Written for Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (FOWC) – benefactor
Alone at a table in Village Inn, she began to write while she waited for her food. Helen was stressed and had to get away from her hectic home life for the day. She had just grabbed her coat and walked out the door. Now she was trying to write out the troubling emotions into some poems.
Her food arrived and she set her notebook on the seat next to her. Her mind was still swirling with thoughts and words. When only about half of her food gone, she pushed the plate away and moved her notebook back in front of her.
Our lives are hell
Reacting to each other
Never really talking
You’re usually drunk
Now I seek hope
With or without you
I must find peace of mind
She seemed pretty satisfied with this. She dated her notebook page and signed it. Thinking of a title she wrote Silent Hell above the poem. Another poem about her chaotic life. It would really break her heart if she knew this made the hundredth poem, she had written this year and it was barely March. She set the notebook back out of the way and slid her plate back in front of her and finished her lunch wondering if he even had noticed she was gone.
Written for Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (FOWC) – village