Art and introversion

Nature, confused
Nature, confused

If you can make it out, we have here a tulip sprouting in the snow. I took this picture yesterday morning. Today the temperature is in the high 30’s, heading up. Maybe I’ll go out and work in the yard this afternoon. Maybe.


I am not sure where this post will end, or even what it will be about. Neither am I sure if I can get one succinct post out of these thoughts, or if I will have to stretch it into a continuing self-examination. I’m asking you to try to follow my train of thought. I hope it turns out to be worth your effort.

I started thinking about this topic this morning while watching CBS Sunday Morning. There was a segment about graffiti artists and a show of their work in a museum in New York City. An element of one of the pieces of art included a reproduction of Howard The Duck, the Frank Brunner version I believe, and that struck a chord in me. After all, I liked the comic book, and for a while I collected art portfolios, including one by Brunner, until they became harder to find and more expensive (I’m cheap).

If that were all, however, I wouldn’t be writing this post. At the same time this morning I was feeling kind of lonely. Surprise! Occasionally introverts feel lonely. In my case, I only feel lonely when I have had no recent contact with people who are important to me. I can be surrounded by acquaintances and be lonely, because we don’t really have much in common.

To reiterate, I was watching a TV piece on art, and I was feeling lonely. Can you see why I came to the not-so-earth-shaking realization that the love of art is a solitary experience. People can tell you what they think good art is, and you can try to tell people what good art is, but the cliché is right about beauty and the eye of the beholder. You can tell a person why they should like something, but that only works on the very impressionable, not on someone who is comfortable with himself or herself.

This leads me to a coping mechanism that I have for dealing with loneliness and/or depression. I immerse myself in art. Often that art is in the form of my stamp collection. Stamps are, after all, small pieces of art. Some are good, some are not. Some are brilliant, some lackluster. Some commemorate the very important, some the mundane. Over the years I’ve changed my collecting habits from trying to get everything to just collecting stamps and covers that I find beautiful. To me, that is more important than the monetary worth of a stamp.

Well, I seem to have strayed from my original topic. I said at the beginning that I didn’t know where this post was going. I’m still not sure, so I’m going to break off here and bury myself in thought…or do something fun…like the laundry. Any thoughts you have about this post or topic are appreciated, so feel free to comment, or send me an email using the form below.

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