Musings -- on the editor's mind

How do I know good art? There is a “wow” factor, right? With really great art it might be an out loud gasp.

My first reaction may be “I like that.” Or “that’s beautiful.” Or “listening to that gives me joy.” Or, “that makes me happy.” What creates the attraction, gets my attention?

Good art is beauty. And good art brings joy. And there’s one more piece: Good art is true, truth. Even if a painting is a composite place, a combination of locations on the Palouse, as a Cynthia Richardson’s painting is. Art must be true, even if it is not real, as a novel or a play reveals truth, though the characters and plot are made up. And truth challenges normality, the status quo. Great art can have a subversive quality.

How old is this equation: Art = Beauty = Joy = Truth? If attraction to art isn’t primal it is certainly a primary instinct: Some of us are more attracted to beauty, others to truth. Some of us become musicians, some ministers.

How do I get to know good art? It’s a combination of learning, of feeling and of intuition. And time. I need time to develop a relationship, to learn, to become comfortable, to believe, to “know.”

I was lucky to have taken an introduction to drama class in Minneapolis almost 20 years ago. The professor took us to the Walker Art Center, a museum of contemporary art. Trying to make sense of abstract paintings, a definition of aesthetics came to me: pleasing patterns. My mind – and my heart – seeks order to find comfort. I can like and enjoy and understand once I am able to interpret food, literature, music, paintings. It is hard to find beauty, joy, or truth when I am uncomfortable.

On the one hand, I pay attention, discern and judge. On the other, my heart tells me, or there may be a pounding of blood or hair rising. Maybe my mouth is happy from tasting.

And then sometimes there are tears. Sometimes art touches the soul.