Look, Let’s Talk About Art
I’ve been editing art features for 22 years. That’s 22 years of looking at too many abstract paintings, 22 years of pretending to understand performance art, and 22 years of saying “interesting” when I have no idea what’s going on.
I’m Sarah, by the way. You might remember me from such articles as “Why Modern Art is a Scam” and “The Time I Cried at a Jackson Pollock Exhibit” (Spoiler: I was hangry).
I’ve seen it all. Or at least I thought I had, then last Tuesday, a friend dragged me to this weird installation in Austin. It was basically a room full of old TVs playing static. “It’s about the noise of modern life,” she said. I told her it gave me a headache.
But here’s the thing: art is messy. It’s subjective. It’s that friend who always shows up late but makes you laugh so hard you cry. You can’t pin it down, you can’t explain it, and honestly, you shouldn’t even try.
My First Art Disaster
Let me take you back to 1999. I was a baby editor, green as grass, working at a tiny magazine called “Brushstrokes.” My boss, let’s call him Marcus, handed me a feature on local pottery. “Make it pop,” he said. I had no idea what that meant.
So I interviewed 214 potters, visited 36 studios, and wrote this massive, boring piece about clay. Marcus read it, sighed, and said, “Sarah, it’s like you’re afraid of adjectives.” He was right. I was terrified of adjectives. Still am, frankly.
But that’s the thing about art—it’s not about being perfect. It’s about being real. About putting your messy, imperfect self out there and hoping someone gets it.
Art and Self-Care (Yes, Really)
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Sarah, how does this relate to me? I’m not an artist. I can’t even draw a straight line.” Well, neither can I. But art isn’t just about making things. It’s about feeling things. About experiencing things.
About three months ago, I was talking to a colleague named Dave over coffee at the place on 5th. He was stressed, overwhelmed, and basically drowning in work. I told him, “Dave, you need to make time for art.” He looked at me like I’d suggested he take up knitting. “I don’t have time for art,” he said. “I have spreadsheets to finish.”
I get it. Life is busy. But art isn’t a luxury. It’s a necessity. It’s like self care routine ideas daily—you need it to stay sane. You don’t have to make art, but you should definitely experience it.
Go to a museum. Listen to music. Dance in your kitchen. Do something that makes you feel alive. And if anyone judges you, tell them Sarah from “Brushstrokes” said it’s good for the soul.
A Tangent About Bad Art
Speaking of feeling alive, have you ever seen really bad art? Like, “I spent 87 dollars on this and it’s just a stick figure” bad? I have. I’ve seen it, I’ve hated it, and I’ve written about it.
But here’s the thing about bad art—it’s still art. It’s still someone’s expression, their emotion, their “I tried” moment. And honestly, sometimes bad art is better than no art at all.
I mean, think about it. Would we appreciate the Mona Lisa as much if we hadn’t seen the countless bad portraits hanging next to it? Probably not. Bad art gives good art context. It’s like the bad boyfriends of the art world—you wouldn’t know what you want if you hadn’t dated a few losers.
Art is Everywhere
Art isn’t just in museums and galleries. It’s in the graffiti on the side of the road. It’s in the way your friend plates their food. It’s in the music playing at the grocery store (even if it’s that one song that gets stuck in your head for days).
Art is everywhere. You just have to look for it. And sometimes, you have to look really hard. Like, “I’m squinting and tilting my head” hard.
But that’s the fun of it, right? The search. The discovery. The “Oh, that’s what that’s about” moment. It’s like a treasure hunt, but instead of gold, you find something that makes you feel something.
And isn’t that what life’s all about? Feeling things? Experiencing things? Making things? Even if it’s just a really bad stick figure drawing.
About the Author: Sarah Johnson is a senior editor with 22 years of experience in the art world. She’s written for major publications, cried at Jackson Pollock exhibits, and still can’t draw a straight line. She lives in Austin with her cat, Picasso, who is, unfortunately, not an artist.
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