Back to Work

The only way an artist can personally fail is to quit work.

--Thomas Hart Benton

Recently I went to see a black-and-white lithograph exhibit of Thomas Hart Benton's work. His work has always impressed me, the way that he could capture history with a tube of paint and a stroke of a paintbrush. Sometimes his paintings are a little over the top for me, maybe a little too cartoonish, but the lithographs in black and white were more subdued, capturing the poignancy of the 1930s and 1940s, sometimes capturing the sadness that surrounded the Depression but also offering humor. Walking through the hallway in the museum lined with his lithographs, I wanted to memorize the details of each one, from the strokes of the paintbrush to the names of the paintings to the details of when, where, and why Benton created those pieces.

Benton's home where he lived with his wife and children isn't far from where I live. Sometimes I'll find myself taking a route that will have me pass by his house...I've been there a few times to take the tour; it's a beautiful limestone house that appears to be a fortress from the outside, but the rooms are much smaller on the inside. His art studio -- a separate limestone building in the back yard -- is bright, open, and wide; more spacious and airy than his own home's living room. The outside is surrounded by large, shady trees, making it seem like a quiet, romantic location...the perfect home for an artist.

Benton's quote above was amongst the lithographs and placard descriptions. Standing amidst his artwork and the quietness of the museum, I felt inspired. Cliche, I realize, but inspired nonetheless. It reminded me of my love of reading and writing; while I'm not the greatest writer, it's something that I enjoy doing. And the absence of regular writing over an extended period of time has left me uninspired. While still cliche, writing is a little like riding a bicycle. To feel comfortable and to be strong at it, you need to ride regularly. Trying to tackle a 60-mile bike ride without training or any conditioning, while not impossible, doesn't feel good. Getting back to blogging has been slightly disjointed and a little rough; but, at the end of each post, I feel better. More like who I know I am (even if who I am might be a little melodramatic at this point), but more centered. Less like a personal failure. And hopefully over time the writing will get easier, the words and dialog less clunky, and the ideas as to which topics to write on slightly easier to come by. Until then, Benton's words keep running through my head.