Today we were back at the National Museum of Scotland, a venue that has so much variety I can see us visiting time and again without going over old territory. On our two previous visits we focused on the bookends of getting started and consolidating what we have discovered about our creativity.
I always turn up with a plan. A theme, a focus, something to give everyone (including myself) some sort of steer rather than just stabbing in the dark.
In the three weeks since our last meet up a lot has happened for me, I've rediscovered my need to write, I've shared experiences, culture and music with good friends, made new ones and even helped to write a song with some incredible musicians. In short I've had more creative output in the last three weeks than in the two years of the pandemic up till now.
I travelled down from the west coast of Lewis yesterday and to be honest am pretty wiped today, which might have a bearing on why I turned up at the NMS with no plan for the first time.
Fortunately, Cat, Sylvia and Giulia are chilled out people and all were happy to be let loose to find their own focus today. Which is good because my focus is pretty etherial and diffuse before morphing into philosophising. I will make no apologies, it's simply where I am right now.
Five minute task
Breathe
The dimpled sculpture is like coral. It might have been porous but the holes are so big you can push your hand through them. It might tempt a toddler to sit in the indent, like a giant squashed golf ball.
There is a Japanese contemporary exhibition off to the side of the main atrium and there is a piece of art like a squashed beach ball, hollow and perforated. It looks somewhat natural but is artificial and caught my eye. I loved the way it felt at once sturdy and fragile, like it could withstand the toddler's weight, but would smash if dropped.
Main task
In the Art of Living exhibition I was, of course, much drawn to William Morris.
I think if I had the choice of a piece of renaissance art or some arts and crafts I would go for the latter every time.
Ultimately I want to be surrounded by accessible as well as beautiful things and this exhibition really spoke to me; illustrating the line between pure art and useful art.
Not that I could ever afford an original Morris tapestry or one of MacIntosh's chairs...however much I enjoy them
The Art of Living
There are beautiful objects here. Are they art because they are beautiful or are they beautiful because they are art?
Charles Rennie Mackintosh's style reflected his time, but soon enough his time reflected his style.
What does the artist see in the world that we do not? See but then mould it, shape it, compost it in their imagination and birth it for the rest of us to experience, enjoy, find fault with and celebrate.
The Mackintosh tub chair is art.
But it is also the epitome of functional.
It is a piece of art for us to rest our backsides on; the ultimate disrespect perhaps but also its raison d'être.
It's also joyful, with a heart (or bum) shaped dimple for the rear ends of Argyle Street ladies when taking their tea.
The oak carver also graced the tearoom. Elegant and grandfatherly, it is straight-backed with a rush and horsehair seat cushion.
Were these chairs a pair?
Were a man and woman supposed to sit in their designated seat?
Did Mackintosh watch couples come in and choose their resting places with societal conformity? Or were they able to exercise free will and choose the chair the were drawn to?
Charles Rennie Mackintosh designed almost everything in that tearoom, and others beside, as well as objects for private residences. Is it all art?
Where is the line where art ends and life begins?
If I threw a scone at the wall and the jam and cream made it stick in a crumbly mass, would that be art?
What if it dried and never fell off? What if I drew a frame around it? And put up an information card?
What if it was never looked at?
All art has a purpose, is designed to be looked at, if not used in some way.
How much art is in day to day life?
There is art all around us, all the time. Watered down, commercialised, twisted, refined, plundered, unattributed, forgotten, reclaimed.
Do we see it?
When we aren't in a gallery or museum, do owe recognise it?
Do we practise the art of living?
Living is expression.
Expression is art.
Living is art.
Philosophising might have been an understatement.
But I really enjoyed this one; it got me asking questions of myself and society and didn't really need to find the answers.
Can you spot the moment I left the exhibition and retired to the cafe to complete my writing? Can you guess what everyone seemed to be eating around me?
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