The colors glowing from within and along the surface of the glass sculpture mirrored the movement of the glass when it had been created. Flowing, rolling, expanding, curling… twining around itself and then upwards into a dream of the ocean. Not just a single wave, but the entire ocean, frozen in one blue, turquoise and gold moment. The ocean twenty feet high and thick with sharp edges, smoothed into tentacles and starfish. Rounded into the shape of an hourglass full of movement but forced to stand still on a frame of bare wood with hundreds of lights. No shadows anywhere, just color and fragile shape.
Being frozen with wonder is real. It happened to me the moment I saw this scultpure. Eventually I could breath again and then I walked around the perimeter, over and over, trying to see every detail that made this sculpture seem so alive. I swear I heard the sound of the ocean as I paced.
That was just one of the glass sculptures I saw at the Chihuly Garden and Glass Museum . Traveling from room to room I became more astounded by the intense beauty and creativity of the sculptures. Some as small as a salad bowl while others stood ten feet tall. One room was filled with a thousand colorful glass shapes creating an undersea world, while another room held a garden of giant poppies that changed color when you shone a light on the petals.
While standing beside a display of glass balls in different sizes and bright colors cascading from a container shaped like a boat, I felt my body tingling. Perhaps I’d been holding my breath too long from the beauty I couldn’t seem to process. But sometimes when I’m looking at a picture, listening to music or reading a story, I feel an slow surge of electricity flow through my body. Art reaches deeper than just my senses. I don’t see the picture, I experience the picture. I feel the artist and the inspiration and the work and the materials all at once. I want to laugh, shout or sing… it’s just so damn beautiful!
On this day, I got the wiggles. Exuberance flowed out of my hair and my fingers until I couldn’t stand still. I leaned against the wall and looked up at the gigantic glass solar system above my head. More beauty. Everyone around me was quietly chatting and taking in the art with reverent appreciation. I wanted to shout, “Do you feel it? There is so much beauty here! Does anyone feel drunk too?”
Instead, I found a corner away from the glass and jumped up and down with excitement, making my friends laugh. “It’s so damn beautiful!” I said.
“Uh oh… Terena’s being exuberant,” one friend said with a smile.
I’m grateful my friends understand how deeply I am affected by beauty and art. And I don’t think I’m the only one feeling overwhelmed by what they saw. When I was done being “exuberant” and felt safe to walk near glass again, one woman grinned at me and shone her light on the petals of a glass flower. “Look how they sparkle in the light,” she said.
I am not the kind of art lover you take to a formal art exhibit, unless you need someone there who will exclaim “Beautiful!” every time she sees a picture she likes. And don’t take me to a concert if you’re embarrassed by people who either dance or cry when they listen to great music (even the symphony).
Art is the purest expression of being human and creating art is to be truly alive.
Art brings me joy. No, art IS joy.
And I am all about the joy.
Go on. I dare you. Be exuberant at the art museum. Just once.