From Lawrence Durrell Interview, 1960
I came across this snip above from the Durrell Society, a group dedicated to the work of author Lawrence Durrell. I believe it was from a Paris Review interview in 1960 but I couldn’t verify that. That doesn’t really matter, I guess.
There’s a lot to unpack in that brief paragraph. I often equate writing or making music to painting so I often see equivalencies in things written by writers and musicians. For example, where Durrell says that he doesn’t read much of the work of his contemporaries, I understand. I don’t spend a lot of time studying the work of my colleagues nor do I spend much time examining paintings from earlier artists that are considered masterpieces unless they spark something within me. Unless the work reaches out and meshes with me on some personal level, I just don’t want to spend the time on it. It’s much like Durrell stating that he never reads anything that bores him or doesn’t feel was written for him.
And that brings us to the line– Books are like love letters; they are destined for a particular person— that really hooked me. That and: Every book is a kiss.
Substituting the word painting for book, these two statements aptly sum up my feelings on the interaction that often takes place between a piece of art and the viewer. Some paintings reach out to certain people on a very personal level, seeming as though they might be speaking to only to that person in intimate terms.
As though it was painted for them alone.
That you know it and it knows you.
I know that feeling. It might be one of the reasons I ended up as a painter, having felt that feeling– that kiss as Durrell put it– from the work of others.
I wanted others to feel the kiss of my work, to feel that they were known and seen in it.
I have been fortunate to see this bonding occur between my work and the viewer a number of times over the years. It’s something that can’t be predicted. Some pieces that personally feel like a big buss on the lips to me never find another person in which it produces that same effect.
But when it happens, when I see someone experience a deep emotional connection with a painting of mine, it is beyond gratifying. There is a sense of completion, as though a circle is somehow being made whole.
As though someone has received my love letter.
I can’t explain that any more than I can explain why the connection with the viewer happens in the first place or why people love or experience life in the ways they do.
Therein lies the mystery and beauty of art.
Redtree Times 