Victor Pasmore in his catalogue The Image in Search of Itself says, “Today meaning dissolves in order to create new meaning and what is known becomes unknown. In art the peripheral images of thought and perception reappear as anonymous objects before which is always a question. While reason sleeps the symbol awakes.”
It was published in 1972 by the Marlborough Gallery in London, England.
When I travelled and felt displaced, the first stop was an Art Gallery, it didn’t matter to me who was on show. I don’t expect many of you to know Victor’s work; he was British, a painter who actually did some sculptural things.
We were on the west coast recently, I gravitated to the Art Gallery there, late at night, didn’t see a show but was able to see the crowd coming out from the opening.
The funny thing for me is that seeing a work by Kandinsky, or Klee, or Mary Cassatt or Moore or Hepworth or Emily Carr or O’Keefe or Bush or anyone really, all their work calls to me. It is only then that I feel I am home. They are my family.
I understood years ago that I felt calm or moved or just more myself in the presence of art, but then I didn’t understand why. It took a life time, but now I know, they are my family, the Etruscans, the Greeks sculptors, all the unnamed artists in the world, petroglyphs, graffiti art, all the ones that have no name, and all the ones that still have a name, oh the Vincent Van Gogh exhibit had me in tears, and I Never cry, but we live and breathe an air that is so much more rewarding for it.