|Alberto Giacometti's Three Men Walking|
Aside from my one "must-see" painting request (The Old Guitarist by Picasso), we also discovered some other pretty cool art along the way, including a limited selection of sculptures by Alberto Giacometti.
I've always had an interest in this type of art. Perhaps because when you're a writer, any art form depicting people provides a built-in writing prompt. For example, in my featured photo: Where are those three walkers headed? Do they know each other, or are they merely crossing paths on the street? What's the story behind the scene?
Fast forward to this week, when a friend of mine emailed me a short film called The Eternal Gaze, an imaginative story-behind-the-scenes of Alberto Giacometti's work. Not because she knew I was intrigued by his sculptures (in fact, she had no idea I saw them at the Art Institute last summer), but because she says the video reminds her of the way I always talk about my fictional characters as if they are real-life human beings.
The opening is reminiscent of a spooky Halloween movie, and when I first began watching it, I couldn't quite figure out why it reminded her of my relationship with my characters. I mean, I certainly don't write anything close to ghost stories or horror. But by the time the ending credits rolled, I understood. I think any artist (writer, painter, sculptor, poet, chef, et al.) would find this film touching, because it addresses the yearning that we creatives desperately seek to fulfill. The looming question over all of our work: Will my creation matter?
I came away with the realization that it is a blessing in and of itself simply to be able to create—whatever the end result may be: finished or unfinished, seen or unseen by anyone else but me. It also gave me the peace of mind to believe that, even if I never sell a single novel in my lifetime, it will be enough to know that what I've created from love can transcend me. And sustain me. And love me back.