How a tanker truck on the California Interstate taught me the value of abstract art.
(Pic #1) “Found art” on the freeway
If you haven’t heard of contemporary artist Cy Twombly, it doesn’t matter. He’s best known for his masterful childlike scribbles in pencil or crayon. For decades, his work has fetched millions, and he’s still going strong.
If you do know Cy Twombly’s work, and you don’t think he’s a genius—you might just need to spend a little more time on the freeway. Okay, the California intestate may not be the venue for your “aha moment”—but it was for me.
A little back-story:
When I first saw Twombly’s work in Santa Monica in 1989, I had a degree in Fine Art, and absolutely no connection to, appreciation for, or understanding of art in the abstract. I was simply confused, and didn’t understand the painting, or the genre.
Fifteen years later—tooling up the 101 Freeway–probably late for something–a loud, dirty, old, scarred up white oil-dripping tanker truck passed me in the left lane. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I panicked, and thought–this truly is my once-in-a-lifetime “artistic epiphany.”
A veritable Cy Twombly masterpiece was teasing me from the fast lane.
Cy Twombly original
The side of the tanker was coated with scratchy black marks—just like Cy’s. It was a beautiful, rhythmical pattern of happy buy ambien little sketches—but on a friggin’ 18-wheeler. I guess it was there for everybody to see–real abstract art–flying by at 65 mph. But somehow the moment chose me. Instantly—my brain got the message; the connection was made. I got it–loud and clear: once you open your mind to art—it’s everywhere.
So I grabbed my point-and-shoot camera and chased the truck up the road—one hand on the wheel, the other desperately stretching over the dashboard, smack up to the windshield, then out the window–to nail the shot I needed. While I’m not proud of my driving habits, I am most appreciative of this magical moment sent my way.
Teasing tanker (close-up)
I couldn’t wait to get home and compare my “raw art” with Twombly’s blue-chip work. The photos seen here represent my moment of wonder and awe—that will last a lifetime. Now I get to share this experience and the photos with my corporate clients. Bottom line—when you shift your thought—you’ll see art in everything.
And if you’re open—art will find you.
My passion for abstract art can now be described as rabid. I discover it in junkyards, old barns, construction sites, recycle bins, spice racks, and rusty tools. It’s the reason I feel sheer joy when I spot a killer image—in traffic, or in trash.
Hi Lonnie, I love your site and am subscribing! Here’s another angle about art being in everything. As well as seeing it, you can feel it. For instance, just go into one of your favorite stores – for instance Z Gallery – shut your eyes tightly, and slowly walk around, just feeling the textures and temperatures of the objects with which you come into contact. A whole new world opens up to you through your sense of touch – the smoothness of ceramics and textiles, the intriguing shapes and roughness of wrought iron sculptures, the warmth and complexities of wood, the cool sheets and sprinkles of water in the many fountains. Have a friend walk with you to guard your progress and identify the objects you’re examining. It’s amazing how quickly your other senses come alive to the artistic possibilities in everyday objects!
While I haven’t yet taken up the ten minutes of art habit, I am challenged by the “open your eyes and see the art around you” concept. So here I sit at my cubicle and I am looking at the banks of computers around me, hmmm- no art here. On my desk a vertical file of rainbow folders which are simply organized chaos, not art. But wait, to my right is a white board that has been poorly erased. What is wrong with MY brain? Lonnie would embrace the smear of colors that have been pushed to the bottom of the board. She would see shapes and movement. I see a board not properly cleaned. I am staring at the smears that are narrowly compressed on one side while flaring out on the other. I should take out a camera a snap a picture. Just as I reach for my cell phone, a fellow employee marches up- grabs the eraser and deletes the smears that might have been art. As he scribbles a new message on the board, I wonder what Lonnie would have seen in my picture?