Struck by Sigmar

I'm not nearly art scholar I was during my college days. While studying for my Visual Art degree, I spent countless hours pouring over my art text books (the only text books I didn't completely resent having to shell over my hard-earned cash each semester), committing their contents to my (apparently short-term) memory. The sad warning "If you don't use it, you lose it" comes back to haunt me every time I try to recall the same details of art and artists I once could recount at the drop of a hat. I've spent a lot of time lamenting the fact that I don't have the need or drive to do anything artistic the way I once did, which is why being struck by this desire again is so refreshing. I didn't even realize how much I miss drawing, creating, generally keeping my head, heart and hands busy, until Davy and I went to tour the Hamburger Kunsthalle (City Art Gallery).

Seeing the thumbnail pics I once knew so well in actual canvas form takes my breath away every time. Emotion in the brushstrokes are visible; the paint lumps make shadows that photographs don't always pick up. The masterpieces that hang mere inches away from my eyes are the products of so much talent and labor...it makes everything I studied finally become real to me.

However, as much as I enjoyed getting reacquainted with Monet, Manet, Picasso and the rest, my excitement came when we toured the back building where the contemporary pieces are housed, most notably the exhibition celebrating German artist Sigmar Polke. It's most likely because I have been raised surrounded by marketing messages, but I've always found graphic art to be the most visually engaging. His pieces filled me with a completely different energy than traditional ones. Instead of carefully dipping my toes into the Pissarros Van Goughs, quietly appreciating the technique that went into the work before me, I was finding myself swan-diving into Sigmar Polke's canvases, devouring all their symbols and bathing in their irreverence... (figuratively, of course...otherwise, I would've had a hard time explaining that to the gallery's curators.)

Davy was sweet enough to tag along with the "old masters" portion and would chime in every now in then that something looked "nice". We were both confused by some of the videos being projected for one installation ("why is that guy pretending to kayak on dry land?" is as valid a question as "and why are we watching it?"), but he soon became in awe of Polke, finding little ways to make the pieces personal ("That's what your nephew Evan says!" upon seeing the words here). We both were drawn to the nostalgic feel and pop culture references, probably in the vein hope that the lives we lead would be important enough to be captured for posterity and displayed in a gallery... plus, it's easier for us to connect with the humor of modern art. (Refined, we ain't.)

I remember learning that the meaning of a piece is directly related to the experience the viewer brings to it. That's why the reserved admiration I felt for the classic works was overshadowed by the overwhelming joy I felt viewing Polke's collection...regular patterns, symbols and modern images had been rearranged by Polke in a way that made me question what I knew about them or how I felt toward them--they really spoke to me. This is exactly why I will recommend Sigmar Polke to anyone who will listen from now on... It's also why I'm off to get started on my own version of pop art with symbols for Davy and me that speak a language all our own.