On Art

Well, that's it. This is the end, of this blog at least, most likely.  

A semester down and plenty more to go, I'll be completing my English course with this blog post, and in some way it calls for a more focused reflection. As our course blog is titled, "The Arts…" there's some suggestion winking me in the face that I should have learned a thing or two about art. Well, I can't give a definite answer of that, although I think I've gained a stronger grasp on what art is as it appears and functions. 

Our professor opened the blog with a bit about art funding having been threatened in the past, a bill or something requesting a cut in the funds that never passed. It's pretty sound to say that art matters. So to you naysayers, ha! So we go on to the "why." What I've come to know or believe is that art is ultimately expression. For this reason, it makes sense that there are so many forms of art and then genres or styles within forms creating this cross-media variety that we can never really collect in one place. I, fortunately, enjoy and understand (vaguely) most art forms. I like watching people dancer, sing, perform, or to read or observe sculptures, paintings, etc. I can find pieces that appeal to me along the lines of logic, ethic, or emotional value. I think it's great that art takes all of these things on at once.  

I think it's pretty neat, in some cases, how art is telling of culture too. The impressionist movement in painting is still awesome to me, or just about any Renaissance born piece of art (paint, sculpt., etc.). Classical music is also awesome. Fast forward though and take a look at modern art (toilet seats nailed to walls), music (auto-tuned to hell, same petty subject matter, not many engaging pieces; don't get me wrong there are some bright exceptions, but at large, no, music is in a decline), dance (I can only watch someone spin on his/her head for so long), and you get my point. Examples like these really make me wonder what future generations will think of our generation. I mean, we've managed to take the blood sucking monster that made a pact with the devil and turned it into a glitter-skinned regrettable immortal that fears losing his socially-backward girlfriend over the sun, garlic, or a stake through the heart. C'mon, really now? I'm totally okay with vampires being explored outside of horror, but at least keep the myth behind them accurate, otherwise they wouldn't be vampires, now would they? There are just some things I cannot draw sense or appeal from. Remember that toilet seat nailed on a wall? What are you getting out of it? I am personally drawing a blank here.

So, I don't know. I guess I liked art better when people were only acknowledged after they died.it seems the function of art is changing from expression into a money making scandal. Tune out a new beat that can get a teenager's head to bounce and hips to sway for three minutes, toss in something about money, drugs, degrading women – or – breaking up, being heartbroken, etc., and you have a hit that will be no the top spot for a week or so. You instantly make tons of money in sales and can probably retire early. Ask about that same song in a month and people will wonder why you're asking about that "old" thing. I'm trying to find where the artist-ship has gone, where the pride in work has gone off to.  

Oh, another thing before this turns into a full-out rant… What's up with all this abstract stuff? As confident as I am with my imagination; I'm going to doubt yours if you cannot give a complete picture for us. Selective removal of information, be it in a picture or writing, is okay, but I should be able to follow along coherently with a piece or there might be a communication issue. This cryptic expressionism is getting to be a bit much where years from now who will know what you meant!?

So, yeah, hopefully art hasn't gone down the tube entirely. Surely my blog critics are starring me down from behind the screen taunting me to "do better, then." Well maybe I will! Or maybe I won't. Remember I'm just a college student who's built his opinions on his brief existence in the world and has many options before him to explore before he decides to pursue a few. On that note, here's to hoping I can make sense of this art "stuff" in the future.

Looking Back - Self Eval.

1. All right, so I'm here to evaluate my progress through the course. It's really awkward because to some degree I don't feel changed or richer in knowledge. I guess that's just the perspective I have while having lived in change. It's kind of like watching you pet grow up. Being with a kitten every day you hardly realize she's getting bigger and losing the kitten cuteness, and then one day you have this cat with a terrible loving habit of grinding her claws into your chest while she cuddles up with you. Where did the time go, honestly?

 

So coming in I knew English in any setting was going to turn out in one of two ways. Either I'd love it and write to my fancy all I wanted, and excel in it, or I'd find myself taking very boring notes on a piece I have no desire to read or acknowledge followed by drafting papers no one will ever read or reference. I mean, thinking about it, if you don't seem to know an author or title, it means the works sucks or the author isn't dead yet (or so that's the trend). The genre might just not be your cup of tea either… Regardless, I found myself doing the latter a majority of the time. It's boring to me because writing holds a different function in my life. I like to write, and still do, but it's for me most of the time. Guiding questions are fine, but I don't really have a motivation to write about an ad in the newspaper other than a grade.

 

Now in reflection I can say this hasn't changed much at all. However, I have picked up on a few stylistic tools that can help me perhaps improve my own self-motivated writing. Maybe someone will pick up on it before I die or I'll move onto something more meaningful. Prior to this course I was told to address my audience, but no single teacher in high school had a way to show me how. Professor Squillante managed to in exposing the class to the appeals. Go figure, a philosopher from ages ago who spoke an entirely different language living in a different culture could speak clearer than English teachers with their Master degrees in English, communications, etc. here and there. Thank you Aristotle…

 

Another transition in the course as a first year seminar has been moving from a very narrow, isolated view of the campus to something more. I have the Arboretum across the street, but I would have never had means to enter the Palmer or find the theatre. I knew PSU had a lot to offer, but nothing ever showed me that perspective so directly. The campus is undoubtedly overwhelming at first, but I found this course to help make it a little smaller and manageable. By picking a subject, say art, you can be looking with a finer toothed comb. Arts aside, I learned a new way to take on the 900+ organizations or other events on campus without having my eye twitch from stress of it all!

 

In all, I can safely say I've really become disillusioned with what's meaningful in the world over the past four years. Penn State provides me with a new canvas, and art at large is providing new inspirations and motivations. I've become very estranged from art and this course was refreshing to get back to it even a slight bit. I still feel I'm far behind though, be it a creative writing major or someone working in visual arts, music, etc. It's time to paint a new picture on my blank slate. Daunting? Sure, but I won't gain much from just sitting here now will I?

 

2.

1) http://morgannsays.blogspot.com/2012/09/template-as-i-was-thinking-about-how-to.html?showComment=1347208840150#c7042032657485027129

 

2) http://jrose412.blogspot.com/2012/09/my-first-art-adventure.html?showComment=1347828036736#c6110860236326840704

 

3) http://haileyhere.blogspot.com/2012/09/template-i-wanted-my-blog-to-be-nice.html?showComment=1348448456988#c3107126785732381707

 

4) http://daniellegordonmartin.blogspot.com/2012/09/peaceful-morning-at-arboretum.html?showComment=1349216424327#c7032610852175147841

 

5) http://dcbornandraised.blogspot.com/2012/09/analysis-of-my-blog.html?showComment=1350089007305#c596082188581114626

 

6) http://the1meltingpot.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-palmer-museum-visitation.html?showComment=1351004530169#c1279370939653067063

 

7) http://rfatherly.blogspot.com/2012/09/palmer-museum-visit.html?showComment=1351008613396#c2196803390077648012

 

8) http://theartofanargument.blogspot.com/2012/09/blog-post-1.html?showComment=1351810894823#c8803716929272597731

 

9) http://itsblogtimeeverybody.blogspot.com/2012/10/kickin-it-old-school.html?showComment=1353110740342#c6444018152307161078

10) http://aglydesweetconcoctions.blogspot.com/2012/11/art-of-unseen.html?showComment=1355236820623#c7441359503797640955

3. "Hi, Ms. S--I completed my SRTEs!" Sorry for the late post, but an upset stomach denied me permission to leave my bed.

Arts/Cultural Response: Rocky Horror - "Dammit Janet"

This is long overdue, but I went to see "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" on October 27th, and it was well…different. 

So it was that same evening in October, at about eleven o'clock, that I was walking downtown towards the State Theater. I passed the Palmer museum and saw some lights. The atmosphere was ripe with college students in their ridiculous costumes going off to parties: you know, slut bunnies and something that lets a guy run around without sleeves. The show actually started about the time I came to the theatre though. So much drag in such little space… I bought my ticket and took my seat as soon as I could. Silly me, I thought I was just going to see a movie. I was wrong, so very wrong.  

The State Theater likes to do a shadow cast for "ROCKY HORROR!!!" meaning they have their own actors on stage acting the parts out on screen. It's much better than just watching the movie, although it helps that you know what characters are saying and doing beforehand. I throw quotes around "ROCKY HORROR!!!" because that's all the audience around me would scream when it was said in the intro credits.  

Alright let me back up a little bit. So it went more like this. I took my seat at the edge somewhere in the middle and thought to myself that it must have been a no show boring event. Not too many people were present, and those who were seemed awfully quiet, just minding their own business and making friends with the shadow cast. I had some older man come over and sit next to me, which was kind of weird…wondering what an old man was doing to come see "Rocky Horror" (I don't know why it was odd, but it was!) until the shadow cast Janet come over. His daughter would be on stage in a matter of hours half naked. I wasn't sure if I was meant to encourage his pride and support in his daughter or pity the moment.  

The director comes out, and before I realized the theater had become warmer and much fuller. The entire middle section was fairly packed from front to back. It had a nice turn up, alright, groovy. The director then called all "virgins" to the stage. It took me a minute to think about what in the world he was referring to, and then I realized this wasn't going to just be any other sitting to watch "TRHPS." The director gave the virgins on stage a red balloon, they blew them up, stuck them between their legs and then the cast came around and "popped their cherries" by biting the balloons. Things were escalating.  

The movie started soon after an introduction and the theatre burst into song. The quite kinds in front of me were now screaming "ROCKY HORROR!!!" at the top of their lungs. I just sank into my chair next to the quiet old father and watched the credits roll as I tried to watch the movie. The opening narrator's volume was kind of lacking, "like [his] neck," which make it kind of difficult to hear what he had to say compared to the shouting audience. In any case the audience was introduced rather quickly to the hero Brad ("Asshole!") and heroine Janet ("Slut!") who would continue their story into Dr. Frank-N-Furter's castle. The movie goes on, and the shadow cast ignores no part of the movie no matter how raunchy or exposing. The audience went along too sharing their own puns and jokes throughout. A reprise of the "Time Warp" brought the night to a very interesting close.  I left speechless for what I had just witnessed. A "virgin" to the event who didn't get his "cherry popped," I was, and still am, stunned. Maybe next time…  I left the theatre thinking of the father clapping for his daughter's portrayal of Janet, you know, that slut who sleeps around the castle. Ya, definitely different.

“Like the Wind…” (AC/BP#5)

To summarize “In the Red and Brown Water” is pretty simple, although the conclusion is still questionable. Oya, a young track star in the Louisiana Bayou, is excelling in her sport. Elegba, a young boy soon to become a man, is having dreams of Oya floating out in the water with blood on her legs as she cups her right ear. Mama Moja, Oya’s mother, is ill, but seeking to keep her daughter on the right path. Shango and Ogun are after Oya’s heart.

 

Elegba foreshadows the story with his dream as he tells Mama Moja about it. Oya, a wonderful track runner, turns down a full-ride to state college to watch her ill mother. Her mother dies soon after. Shango moves to comfort her, although his intentions seem solely sexual. It becomes clear they don’t click as a couple though, and soon after Shango leaves Oya alone again as he leaves to join the military. Ogun steps into the picture, overcoming his stuttering to tell Oya how he feels and he moves in with her.

 

By the second act, it is seen that Oya isn’t entirely satisfied with Ogun. She’s sitting outside late at night, her mind seeming distant. Shango returns from the military and Oya lets him back in. Ogun steps out. Elegba has grown up, age 16, and is now a father who is also sneaking his baby into Oya’s home. Aunt Elugua, who I’m not entirely sure is a blood relative, is watching over Oya from afar now as well. Oy’a life just seems to be a bad decision after another. Oya inevitably finds out that Shun, another girl in the area who proves territorial of Shango, is pregnant with Shango’s baby. Oya cuts off her right ear, the one Shango would always caress, and gives it to Shango to remember her by.

 

There is a lot left out in the summary, too many details to include. The story itself is a downward spiral to living hell for Oya whose only flaw was caring too much, it seemed. Caring for her mother kept her away from her dreams, caring for Shango and her pleasure kept her blind from how she really felt about him, caring for Ogun puts her in an unfulfilling relationship, and caring for Elegba is just all kinds of weird (between his visions, theft, baby, and later discovered homosexuality which alarms Oya). This is ultimately the most striking factor about Oya. She keeps putting others before herself and always seems to end up short. Everyone else, save for her mother, was in it for themselves and they prospered as far as the audience can tell. The college who was offering Oya a scholarship finds a better runner, Shango becomes a father after his military service (we assume), Ogun is employed and making a living, Elegba has his baby to take care of and some sort of relationship taking off.

 

I think what compelled me the most - rather repelled - was all of the mature language. To put it gently, when you act according to a stereotype, people are going to associate you with that stereotype. The language in total reminded me very much of a black ghetto where the “black vernacular” is most popular. All the same, I’ve no idea what the people in the bayou speak like, so it could just be that. In any case, the language was…I don’t even know, that’s all I could really take from it though. While it does serve a purpose in establishing an atmosphere and characters (their education and morals in some cases) it was used in what I took as excess. This might have been the typical cursing density of a conversation though. Another striking scene in the drama was the candy store owner, O Li Roon, told Elegba to get his black behind “over here” so he could get the candy Elegba stole back. Putting aside the fact that the white man left his candy shop unlocked and unattended, shedding some satire on himself as well, there was this moment when all of the black people on stage were offended when Elegba was called out on being black, as if to discriminate. O Li Roon puts it as such a matter of fact in stating Elegba is black and that’s all there is to it. I think it highlights how oversensitive people can be about race; it’s just a color in the end.

 

I wasn’t happy with the stage directions being called out by the actors. If I had to hear how Shango caressed Oya’s ear one more time I might have had to leave the theater. I find that distracting in a performance, especially when I have a playbill to check names, and they use character names in dialogue. The emotion tags, like a character sulking as he or she leaves, can probably be acted out and exaggerated. I don’t really care to know that Elegba when out the way he came or some other way. The actions saying it also breaks the atmosphere their acting works to create, and because of that I didn’t get a smooth flow receiving this act. However, everything else was wonderful to experience. The acting was brilliant, the choreography was especially entertaining, and the music really helped to set the pace and tone. When interruptions were at minimum, you could find yourself immersed in the environment easily.

 

The first college theater show I saw was Shakespeare’s “Comedy of Errors” which used no music and even less stage props and designs. Their costumes were pretty cool; they Globe environment and focus was there. This was different in “In the Red and Brown Water” though, where most characters are wearing white and it didn’t make too much sense. This was my first at state college though, and it’s encouraging to see such young talent do so well. A lot of hard work goes into preparing a performance, and the actors did a phenomenal job.

Animal Antics (A/C BP #4)

Director: John Landis

Producers: Ivan Reitman, Matty Simmons

Writers: Harold Ramis, Douglas Kenny, Chris Miller

Starring: John Belushi, Tom Matheson, John Vernon, Verna Bloom, Thomas Hulce, Stephen Furst, Donald Sutherland

Length: 109 minutes

Rating: Restricted (R)  

Do you remember when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Didn’t think so! Bluto (Belushi), one of the mischievous members of the Delta fraternity, seemed to think so though.  I speak of National Lampoon’s Animal House, while arguably the pioneer of explicit college movies, one of the greatest college films of all time. Animal House presents a set of strengths and weaknesses in providing an accurate and impressionable view of college life, while also maintaining its comedy status.  

It’s 1962 at Faber College as freshmen Lawrence Kroger (Hulce) and Kent Dorfman (Furst) seek to integrate themselves into the college way of life by joining a fraternity. While initially rejected by the more elite Omega house, Kroger leads the duo to the Delta fraternity - of which his member was once a member. From here onward, the viewer gets to taste a little slice of college life as the story follows the Delta house through all its misadventures, from giving a horse a heart attack, food fights, and expulsion.  

Animal House highlights a select and optional part of the college experience to portray: frat life. The most prominent part of this lifestyle is the party environment, an activity Delta house thrives on. Every evening at the Delta house there is a wild, upbeat party, not that the day time stops Bluto from having a drink. Kroger and Dorfman, eventually initiated into the frat as Pinto and Flounder respectively, are pulled into the party scene from the moment they enter the frat house. With plenty of beer to go around and a fun – although a bit chaotic – atmosphere, the freshmen fit right in modeling the peer pressure and belongingness students are faced with in the college experience. Pinto is faced with another internal conflict when faced with the option of taking advantage of his passed out date at one of the house’s toga parties. In all, frat life looks wild.  

Naturally, college administration needs to maintain the integrity of the school. This leads Dean Wormer (Vernon) take direct action to maintaining Faber. Wormer takes drastic actions, such as placing Delta on “double secret probation” and recruiting members of the Omega house to find a way to remove Delta’s charter. Wormer’s plans inevitably succeed after Deltas violate their probation after failing a psychology exam and get caught during another massive party. The Deltas, now expelled, nearly give up before Bluto’s encouraging WWII inspired speech brings senior members to take revenge against Wormer at the homecoming parade.  An end film epilogue reveals some depth to an otherwise lacking character development as many Deltas go on to live successful lives. 

Although frat life doesn’t display all of the college experience, Animal House does a damn good job of showing how wild college can be. While providing an accurate setting of the time, Animal House also establishes many of the frat stereotypes thought of today: parties, alcohol, drugs, scandalous activities, and more. Although presented in a dramatized manner, it’s undeniable that such parties happen in frats in modern context. Animal House still presents this raunchy part of the college experience by humorous means that is sure to leave an impression too great for such a small review. Animal House is a must-see.

Backyard Wonderland (A/C BP #3)

Among the posts asked to be completed by us as a class, so far this one is my favorite. For those in the audience who have no idea what I’m talking about, my class met this past Monday in the H.O. Botanical Gardens at the Penn State Arboretum. Arboretum…that still leaves a funny feeling in my mouth, and I can never remember to say it right. Ha, so anyway, back on track. The gardens are pretty much just that. Some neat pathways take the wandering individual through an easy to navigate mismatch of gardens featuring too many plants for me to name. I guess I’ll just take you on a textual walk through of the place, practice some imagery use, that sort of thing. 

I have the fortune of basically living across the street from the Arboretum, so having class there on Monday was wonderful. I slept in a little. Loved it... I had the fortune of stumbling across the gardens before when I arrived on campus, so I knew my way around and knew it was just going to be a good experience. 

I took the more scenic route across the street and through the field. While I didn’t cross directly, there was some cut grass that marked a sort of pathway to the fountain. The fountain looks especially great at night with the lights on, the water shining and all. So anyway I went through and to my right there was bamboo and other nifty things I don’t know the names of. Fun fact our teacher shared, bamboo grows fast, so fast it can be used as means of torture. A victim placed over a rack over the bamboo shoots will eventually have the bamboo grow up through him. Yea, painful stuff…There was a pond to the left path with just about every color water lily I could imagine (blue, yellow, pink, white? I think that’s most of them). The center path then divides into an oval around the event lawn. It’s a lawn, nothing special there. The left path leads off to a sundial sculpture, sunflower field, and overhand of vines and gourds. The flowers here were particularly vibrant in color. The right path swings around to the observation deck. It’s not called that, but that’s the idea. There’s another sculpture here of Nittany Valley and its waterways. In all, it’s something that needs to be experienced rather than told about. 

I’ve visited the Arboretum a few times before. I’ve just been stressed with starting college. It happens, and I have this little sanity center across the street to help me with it. I can’t say I love it just yet (I’m too eager to see it when it’s finished), but I can say it does help bring some peace of mind. Locations like this are one reason to love nature. You’d never see it in the wild, I don’t think, the mixture of plants, but the smell of flowers was something relaxing, all of them melded together. I like nature without the bugs, basically. Maybe it was just without them because of the time of year, but that’s fine by me! It’s funny I can’t say much about it when there is so much going on. Maybe it’s because I’m sick, haha. It’s peaceful there, and that’s what I like most about it.

 

My title probably doesn't make sense besides my post being as vague as a dream. I'm thinking of the animals that I've seen running around: chipmunks, rabbits, birds, bees, and some other little thing I never got a good look at... Down the rabbit hole, I kept thinking as I walked through the Arboretum.

 

I’ll probably be over there at least a dozen more times before the semester is over, rain or shine. I want to show my mother the Arboretum when she visits. She used to have a sort of garden at home when she was a stay-at-home mom. That all changed once my brothers and I were old enough to manage ourselves when it came to school, and the garden lost its touch a little. Her work from the past has lasted though. Our backyard at home is always green, fenced in GREEN! Spring and summer bring on the array of hues from the flowers below. I don’t spend a lot of time “in nature” but when I do I always find it easy to get away from the world. Bringing others with me would be a circumstantial thing. As of now, I go for the solitude and quiet. Even with the roar not even a block away, I can escape the busy atmosphere of the campus and just breathe a little. I hope this post isn’t too disappointing, reader. It’s just something I’m having trouble putting to words. Take a visit on your own some time. You’ll understand precisely what I mean.

A Striking Appearance (A/C BP #2)

Hello again. So this past week we, my class, took a visit to the Palmer Museum (an art museum here on campus). The instructions, poorly paraphrased, were to find a piece of art that strike “you”, the individual, and take some notes about it. Next, we are supposed to blog about it. Shocker, right? Right then, so let’s get to it…  

I like art, I admit, but sometimes pieces that become museum worthy just make my head turn and ask really rude questions like, “How did this get in here?” I don’t recall the name of one of the painting, but it was just a giant gradient, and the colors weren’t anything special. I obviously missed the statement on that one, and kept moving forward. There were some nice sculpting pieces though. Nothing struck me though. I ended up searching the museum twice trying to find something that stood out, meanwhile I tried to avoid this little corner in the back, top floor where another group was having a class it seemed. Go figure, once the group moved on a little bit and I searched this back corner I had neglected, I found what I was looking for. There was a section of scenery paintings, though I hesitate to call them landscapes. The one that stood out to me a beach scene, so I wandered a little closer, took a better look at it, and found a comfortable spot on the hard tile floor to take notes.  

The piece I observed, and am now analyzing, is titled “Crépuscule” (c.1880’s) by American artist Thomas Alexander Harrison (1853-1930). “Twilight”, translating “crepuscule” from French, is an oil painting on canvas. I’ll try to create as vivid am image as possible. Here come the detailed writing skills...  

It’s a scene on the beach .I’d like to argue it has impressionism traits from the overall “fuzzy” appearance, quick strokes, and purposeful lack of detail. The view point of the painting places the viewer in the wet sand, the horizon spreading clear across. It’s generally dark, save for the rising sun on the left end of the painting. There’s an overcast of clouds. The water is calm and dark as it reflects the equally darkened sky. There are waves that are coming in are breaking close together, and washing up gently on the beach with a little bit of foam. From the point of view given, I’d assume the viewer of that scene felt the cool waters rushing over his feet. On the left side of the image, there’s a ship. It has masts, so given the time frame of the 1880s I’m guessing it’s another cargo ship sailing along. The ship is kept blurry and sort of gray, a vague appearance, to add to an illusion of disparity and therefore distance.  

Let’s take it a step further. Most of the imagery I’m going to present here is my own thought on the image. I haven’t looked up anything on it yet from previous studies, if any. Conveniently, this year when I went to Ocean City, Maryland with my family on vacation, I somehow got up to watch the sunrise. I was just figuring, “Why not? Let’s see what’s so special.” That’s another story, but the point is I’ve seen something like this painting before in my own life, and have drawn some conclusions on that basis. The scene is obviously occurring at a twilight hour as per the title. More specifically it is morning, as the ocean – presumably the Atlantic – is on the “right” side of the viewer; the image is actually captured at an odd angle only capturing a sliver of the actual beach in the bottom left corner. The yellow Harrison uses is generally masked behind the white clouds, and is gentle, so it’s a few minutes after the sun has taken its full form over the horizon. The brightness is still gentle though. The sun light is breaking through the night sky, lighting the left part of the picture in a light blue before it strikes the clouds in the center of the image.  

The clouds are deserving of their own paragraph. They cover most of the painting in the sky from the center to the right. They’re dark, save for the portions stricken by the sun’s rays. I have some complaints for Harrison here. I’m not sure if he made a mistake or…like five, but there were some strokes of white that just looked really sloppy. Some parts looked like globs of white paint that were just put there and forgotten about. It’s a notable “error” on the painting noticeable from some six feet away, and it really takes away from the texture of the clouds. Generally speaking, they looked realistic, save for these globs. I hesitate to call it an error because I know paint can just be a pain tow work with. I don’t paint, but from what painting I’ve had to do I always hated it, especially when trying to put light colors over dark ones (which is already a no-no). So you have these clouds that cast down darkness on the rest of the painting. 

The rest of the scene is of course the ocean, beach, and ship. The ocean is dark as far back as you can see, vaguely reflecting the darkness of the skies in color and texture. Naturally, the water texture overpowers that of the clouds, especially with the fluid movement of the tide. You have this choppy effect with sharp pointed waves that are relatively close. They’re small, I figure. Bigger waves just need more room for the wave to catch enough water and drag to get a higher crest. With this said, the waves roll over each other more than they break and rush forward. It’s like they reach their high point and then just topple over which creates this low wave with little foam. The actual perspective of the painting points the viewer in that breakwater. I can think back to that summer morning when I watched the sunrise. It was almost at that same angle, but the sky was much clearer. The water gently lapped up on the shore and the cool water slid right over my feet and through my toes (leaving that sticky, salty feeling). The small part of the beach sand that is seen is especially neat because there are hints of the sun’s reflection on it. The rays of light glimmered on the wet surface. It looked very realistic; again, save for the vague appearance from what I’m almost certain is an attempt at impressionism. The ship itself is just sort of there, sailing north judging from the sails. There’s only so much detail to discern it is indeed a ship sailing towards the north/sun. 

Analysis time! Alright, I’m going to start this analysis with the literal level. The emotional appeal of me draws from the literal analysis quite a bit. It’s really just this morning on the beach, but there’s so much imagery that comes to mind for me. I love the beach, like I’m hoping when I do get a home I somehow manage to get one on the beach I love it that much. Looking at “Twilight” so many memories came to mind, so many sensations. There was a smell and taste of the salty ocean water, yet it was cool and refreshing in this morning hour. It felt cool, not quite “cold” at that time. The rising sun brought a hint of warmth to the beach to keep for a balanced feeling of warm and cool, something comfortable. As always, I felt the ocean breeze as well, something gentle and flowing, like the small waves. That sensation of water washing over my feet is especially powerful; the initial shock of the temperature and gradual adjustment to the water is soothing. At a glance, it’s a dark image. The colors are depressing, with the exception sun-lit sky. I’d be dumb to forget the ship. For me, the relevance is just that there are ships sailing on the ocean, but I can take that a step further…

So now I’m going to delve into a more symbolic level. Much to the painting’s title, “Twilight”, I think of this in-between in time and space. It’s dark here, wherever “here” is. Like the waves, tides high and low, I have a feeling it’s meant to represent a moment of transition, a dark one at that. The ship becomes especially appealing to the audience now, especially sailing towards the sun. When I think of the sun, I think of brightness and hope. This ship has left the viewer behind somehow, and now he’s left watching. There’s no one else in the image or hint of others, so this leaves more possibilities. There’s the initial thought that he is alone here. There’s also a possibility that he’s just at the front and there are others. I can’t determine for sure. It’s a sad place to be regardless. The latter moment could even suggest that the viewer is sending people off towards something greater, better, and is now morning at the loss of companionship or an opportunity. In examining the coast as the Atlantic, I’m not sure where the ship might have been sailing or who was on it. The ethnic/racial profile of the artist will hopefully reveal a bit more to this idea.  

Another level I think this can be taken to is a religious one, although it’s sort of risqué considering it seems like an utterly secular piece otherwise. I view this moment of “Twilight” as a purgatory of sorts. The depressing colors and otherwise uneventful calmness lead me to this. There’s an overcast of clouds, something weighing down upon the viewer or obscuring his view or this paradise/sun. The ship would then represent those sailing towards this glowing world, presumably a heaven.  

My complaint with the two previous analyses is if I were to look at them outside of the time context. Eventually, the sun would rise, the ship would be gone, and the tide would change. How does this now change the context of the image? Even so, Harrison painted “Crépuscule” with the intent in picking this twilight hour, which credits my own analyses that much more.  Or at least I’d like to think so. :)  

So I ventured as far as wikipedia. There really isn't much out there on this guy. I might have been wrong about the setting a slight bit though. It seems Mr. Harrison's marine adventures were in the Pacific. The title being French isn't a surprise either. According thi this source he studied at the École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts (which would be l'ecole if we went totally French, but whatever!). Marine landscapes are one of his specialities though. Oddly, the one I found in the palmer didn't have much publicity. 

Maybe I can elaborate more on this too: my first visit to the Palmer. Ryan was not impressed. I wouldn’t particularly care to go there again. Maybe if I found some inspiration to visit a specific work, but the chances of such are slim to none. That’s sad…and too bad. iI's not that there is bad art there, it's just that very little of it appealed to me.