Today, I saw a place online called the “Purple Easel”. At first, naive as I was, I thought maybe I had chanced upon a place where art was procured, created, flourished, and nourished. Where mind and matter met and creativity was fostered. How foolish I can be under lack of guard of my own mind. Instead I was met by images of sordid consumerism and a trashing of Art itself.
If you want to see the place yourself you can check it out here –
Or here –
The funny thing about them is their statement even says on their facebook page –
“We guide you every stroke of the way! Come enjoy a glass of wine or your favorite brew and leave with a uniquely painted Masterpiece!”
Well about as unique as everyone who says Miley Cyrus is unique or that something that is copied from something else is truly unique. What complete rubbish. Anyways back to the subject at hand.
In nice whitewashed walls and faces were those who like cattle were shackled to making the exact same image. Every last one of them was the same. I can only venture to guess how little creativity and imagination that the owners of that place have after all they didn’t even give them original still art to work with or even an idea or various concepts. Rather they would resort to controlling the mind and putting it in a box where we all know we feel every day of the week as the world tells us the box each of us must take before we are all put in boxes and laid to rest in a box shaped whole in the ground. I only ask why, why control the mind when it can be unleashed. What’s worse is people are actually paying to do this and at a price that could be had for simply by going to Michael’s getting some paint and picking up some scrap wood and painting it at your home by yourself, as original work as its own with none like it.
But there is a worse treachery than simple monetary funds going to a debauched cause. Rather it is the principle of paying for this that reveals the worse problem at hand. That is is not only a disservice to their money but at the same time it is a disservice to Art itself. They come and smile and try to enjoy art. With their couples they are joyous and happy and they are making “ART”.
Its a sad day when consumerism has reached such incredible heights. Even able to reach the one thing I thought it couldn’t touch … the one thing I thought that would cure it. But art isn’t some manufactured device, some machination that can be mechanized. Even the joy and emotion that those people seemly hope to experience or associate with Art is a disservice to Art itself. Doing art as entertainment to bring excitement of such a low order.
Don’t get me wrong I love art but doing art to find joy is not Art. Rather art isn’t easy or Joyous it is a struggle of the utmost order. Nay it is the only manner in which great Art is made by the nature of struggle. Art of course can be theraputic but not in the simple act of copying or of doing it simply for the sake of doing it. No, it is Art’s entire process that makes it special from an enigma in the mind to the paint on your canvas it is a whole. That is why “Purple Easel” pangs my mind and my conscience.
On a more personal note some of my best work that I have ever done was while I was in the throes of emotional agony and decided that I was going to continue to struggle. Art isn’t happy in the American sense but it is a melancholic joy and therapist for the heart and soul that unequivocally changes you once experienced. And I mean truly experienced.
Not this “Purple Easel”. Not this sad consumerist excuse for the joy, chosen joy, that comes with taking my brush dipping it in paint and stroking a surface to make an image where there was no image. An icon from what was only an icon in the mind.