I’m struggling to find my “art style.” See, I always thought I liked expressionism (which is the kind I grew up with; think Onib Olmedo). But since moving into a collected but decidedly modern / contemporary home, I’ve been seeking out the abstract.
The other day, Hubby came home with this Georgia O’Keefe-ish (or is it “O’Keefe-esque”?) triptych oil-on-canvas painting of a bouquet of calla lilies. (I envy his ability to be moved by a piece of artwork on a gallery wall and to buy on the spot. He’s pretty good at haggling, too.)
I didn’t know what to make of it. Its cheeriness appealed to me, yes. And it reminded me of the flowers in church on my wedding day. But do I like it? I wasn’t sure. Is it even art? I had to think about it.
And where to hang it?
Split into 3 pieces beside the vertical windows along my 2nd storey hallway, it seems to transform itself into abstraction. Nice. The 3 together on a big white wall at the end of the same hall … hmmmm … Jimmie Davis (“… you make me happy when skies are gray … please don’t take my sunshine away”) and Karen Carpenter (“… don’t love me for what you intend or hope that I would be ….”) are singing in my head, somehow in chorus.
It’s most certainly swaying me.