Advanced Essay #1: Kaleidoscopic Art

Jacobo Pastor

English 3 Water Stream

September 20th, 2017

Kaleidoscopic Art

There I was, standing in a large room as crowded as NYC Central Station, full with people and noise. The room was filled with whispers, the irritating sounds of cameras, and the works of prodigious minds that passed throughout history. Their works were not written in paper, or recorded in stone; but represented in simple white canvas. Those strokes, those layers of multiples colors were able to teach me more than any of my Art History classes. Van Gogh’s, Leonardo’s, and Picasso’s surrounded me. I traveled from hallway to hallway, appreciating every single kind of art. Whether it was cubism or impressionism, those master pieces had a story to tell and they spoke to my senses.

Although my eyes were wide open, the only thing calling my name was  The Girl with the Ball. That wasn’t just another painting for me. That Roy Lichtenstein's painting was a family symbol, a piece of history that has traveled with us from house to house, room to room, and country to country. After many years, staring at affordable copies, I couldn’t believe that I was at the MOMA museum, standing next to it. My heart and soul were filled. I closed my eyes like if I was tasting it, and I saw my past flashing right in front of me. The painting was a reminder of where I came from and what I am now.  

Artistically this painting doesn’t mean much to me as it does in an emotional way. Many people say that a picture means more than a thousand words, well, this painting reminds me of my childhood and it is difficult to summarize what it represents using plain words. Tilting my face and holding my chin as if I was some kind of art buyer or an artistic figure, I was staring at the painting and feeling transported to my old house in Madrid. I could smell the turkish carpet in the hallway, leading to the painting’s frame. I could hear my grandfather’s wall clock ringing time. I could see the door to my sister’s bright pink room. The thousand dots of the painting dragged me into my old me like if I was looking from a kaleidoscope.  

My mind dipped into the colors of the painting. From the yellow surfaces to one of the thousand... no... millions of oval shaped yellow surfaces. I closed my eyes trying to clear my mind but I couldn’t. Those dots were making me turn and spin around, in an infinite dance to the center of myself. The smell was more than just familiar. Looking closely around me it came to my senses that those yellow oval surfaces were the rice grains of a typical Spanish paella. I could see my parents cooking over the flames, that family classic dish. The yellow background of the painting was as intense as the paella’ saffron and the girl’ skin tone looked as a pale as chicken chunks mixed with the shell food represented by her red ball. I was blown away by the realization that the whole art piece made me look back, and rekindle that moment in my life next to my family. It is thrilling how present my past was.

“Jacobo, what’s wrong? You look like you are lost in another world,” my mom said.

“I’m fine, mom. I am just remembering the good old days,” I said with a funny tone.

My mom smiled at me, probably thinking that I was making fun of her “good old days,” as she over used that saying, but she rapidly realized that I wasn’t talking about her at all. In fact, I was making a connection with our family past, our memories, everything that makes us be the way we are. That evidence hit me like a supernova leaving me with a sentimental feeling, strucking and moving me. I tried to explain myself. I tried to let her know how that artwork took me miles and years away from that winter day in New York. She looked at me in the eye and said “I know, Jacobo. It is the same for me. We carry our homeland and family in these little memories that travel with us.” At that moment I realized the importance of our past’s presence in our lives. Many choose to forget their past, trying to live a new life from scratch. For me, that is impossible because in every action I take there is a simultaneous reaction of looking back and recognizing, not only my achievements, but the opportunities that lie ahead. In that particular day, I discovered that just as the works of an artist are represented in a canvas, my past was represented in that piece of art.

The Girl with the Ball