As I post this, I am laughing a little bit on the inside - you see, I really REALLY don't much care for abstract art. If I am being honest, for me true fine art (as opposed to decorative art, which has its place and requires talent but does not compare) ended somewhere at the end of the eighteenth century. My personal theory is that the Impressionists came along, looked at some Jean-Louis Davids ("Death of Marat," anyone?), and thought, "Well, there's no way I'm ever going to make that happen, so how about I just daub paint on a canvas randomly?" And so on with each new, less figurative, less time-consuming, less technique-intensive style. Once I walked into a museum to see a large white canvas with a black number 4 in the middle. The painting was titled "4." Really?
In college, a friend of mine tried to convince me otherwise, arguing basically that abstract art was an expression of process rather than product; in other words, that what was great about Jackson Pollock (don't get me started) was that you could see the movements of his body in his work and trace the flow of paint on the canvas. I'm still not buying it for adults, but what I love about those arched lines is their representation of the movement of Lara's little wrist. What arm gesture made those squared-off squiggles? I'll have to watch closer next time.
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