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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Art / Music / Theater / Dance
- Published: 11/26/2021
The Blue Boy
Born 1947, M, from Colorado Springs, CO, United States.jpeg)
“… all that is good in art is one soul talking to another.” – John Ruskin-
Wait. First, I need to tell you a story within the story. When I retired, I volunteered to mentor some middle school boys with absent or difficult fathers. Once one of the boys told me, “Mr. Jerry you’re pretty cool, but you suck at video games and you can’t draw.” Busted. Extremely amused by this missive, I replied “Yeah, but I bet you didn’t know I can draw a killer stick man?”
Sadly, when it came to drawing pictures that was the extent of it. I was hopeless. Never had a drawing class, never attended Art Appreciation or anything remotely similar.
Indeed, in 8th grade I was at a loss when one of the Good Sisters showed us a picture of the famous painting The Blue Boy by the 18th Century artist Thomas Gainsborough and asked us to describe and analyze it. The silence in the room, broken only by the smothered guffaws of young boys, was notable even if it was predictable. However, the furtive, mischievous glances of the boys suggested this conversation would continue outside the classroom.
Some of the girls took a stab at it, but it was clear we were all uninitiated when it came to appreciating picture art. Meanwhile, I’m like, “really? What’s to say other than to suggest the blue kid’s mom sure dresses him funny.” This would not have gone over well with Sister; so, with little insight or positive contributions, I stayed silent.
I mean, we were just working-class kids from the 1950s. James Dean was stylin’ on-screen, Marlon Brando was pimpin’ his ride, while Edd “Kookie” Byrnes was runnin’ a comb through his Vaseline-sodden, ‘duck’s ass’ haircut.
At lunch, the scuttlebutt among the boys was brutal. For 12 and 13-year-olds The Blue Boy’s wardrobe was just not getting it done. “Did you see those threads? What's with the lace around his neck and the blue bow on the shoes? That’s something my little sister would wear! I thought only the ‘Our Gang’ kids wore knickers.” On and on it went, with let's just say, other comments inappropriate when compared to modern nonbinary sensibilities.
Inspiration? Well, if this banter counts, I guess it worked. Indeed, the piece did foster a lively discussion among pre-pubescent boys, one not so much about Gainsborough’s colorful painting, but the boy it depicted.
Unfair! You cry. What about that marvelous painting?
Well, I am no longer completely hopeless. Over the decades I have gazed at Realism, Impressionism, and the Abstract; oils, sketches, pastels, charcoals and graffiti, Frescos and Landscapes, Still Life, Murals, and Sand Painting.
So, while still not an art connoisseur, I humbly offer this very subjective description of our Blue Boy: What we see is a young lad perhaps the same age as those of us who looked at him back in the '50s. Secure and proud, his prominent bottom lip and half-smile suggesting great pleasure with his appearance. He stands hand on hip, stylin’ in his glossy blue (silk?) outfit and knee-high knickers, a laced collar adorning his neck; brown shoes with blue bows compliment his ensemble. A blue cloak lies lazily over his left arm, a broad-brimmed black hat, featuring a large white plume, hangs from his right hand.
The brown earth with minimal flora emphasizes his outfit; the greenery behind him suggesting trees and bushes, the partially muted skyscape with an explosion of white clouds gives him prominence in the overall work. Gainsborough here depicts an 18th century boy who seems to be upper-middle class or better. He is dressed to the nines and sure to be the envy of all the young lads and of interest to the young ladies of the time.
Okay?
You know, over the years I came to identify the picture art I liked when I saw it, even if I did not understand all it took to produce it, or what exactly the artist was trying to say. The thing is, from a young age, I preferred libraries and bookstores over museums and galleries. I liked words over images, stringing them together, cold black symbols peering up from brilliant white paper, painting a picture of the visions Spirit gifts our consciousness. Perhaps those of a similar style might identify with this and with the art historian Anna Jameson who wrote, “In the art of design, color is to form what verse is to prose…”
And then there are stick people…did I mention cartoonists?
Postscript:
One picture from a not-so-famous-artist, whose work touches my memory and soul, stands out; it now adorns a wall in my living room. Sometime, if Spirit implants the story into my gray matter, I'll try to paint the word picture for you.
THE END
© 2021, Gerald R Gioglio
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