A MESSAGE FROM THE CANVAS

In my last post, I wrote about meeting Barbara Bell at the first Gaze and Gather event. Barbara’s work gave me my first real understanding of abstract art, and what it can evoke in its viewer. When I visited the next Gaze and Gather, featuring Paula Charter, it felt like a natural follow-up. Walking in and seeing the walls lined with abstract pieces, I quickly saw a chance to exercise my newfound appreciation. I was excited to look upon each piece and see what I could derive from it, absorbing the details to find my own meaning. I didn’t expect, however, that something would look back.

I was there quite early, and Bricks and Mortar hadn’t been filled with patrons yet. After meeting with some of the other KAC members in the lobby, I moved on to the main viewing room, at this point still completely empty. I strolled from one end of the room to the other, taking in the colors and emotions of the work. As is customary, each one had a placard next to it featuring the name of the piece.

I moved to one corner, drawn to a piece that caught my eye, though I wasn’t sure why right away. It was a chaotic image of grey, blue, yellow, and a myriad of other colors that I couldn’t properly distinguish. The balance of my emotions shifted back and forth as I examined it. I felt uneasiness at the uncontrolled frenzy it evoked, but with it came an understanding...perhaps even familiarity. I turned my attention to the placard on the wall next to it.

“Pent Up.”

I quietly responded, “Sounds about right.”

I felt satisfaction that I had found a piece I liked, as if it alone made the trip across town worth making. Once I came back to myself, I remembered there was still a whole room full of artwork to admire.

Moving across the room, I liked Paula’s style. It was distinct enough to convey meaning, but vague enough for the viewer to interpret that meaning in their own way. Almost every piece had something that stood out, and I was again able to find quiet excitement in the realization of what each piece meant to me. But after a while, something came over me...I wanted to look at “Pent Up” again.

The process repeated itself. I looked at “Pent Up,” did a lap around the room, periodically glancing back at it, then found myself drawn right back. I just couldn’t help but contemplate its paradoxical nature, turbulent and frenetic but completely accessible, like seeing an exotic wild animal from a safe distance. Despite its untamed fervor, it felt relatable. Being a neurodivergent person with ADD, the chaos was familiar, as if the insides of my own mind had been emptied out onto the canvas. Each of the dabs and strokes felt like a different aspect of my own daily life: a speck of color for each of my school projects, household chores, spring and summer plans, and career aspirations. Disordered, they appeared in front of me, swirling out of control though remaining in place.

Standing before the piece for what must have been the third or fourth time, my solitude was broken.

“Do you like abstract art, or does it drive you crazy?”

I looked to the right to see Paula herself. Her tone suggested that her question was casual, a fun pleasantry designed to break the ice and start a conversation. For me, though, it stirred my thoughts and made me consider once again how art had affected me. For someone who often struggles to make conversation with new acquaintances, I knew how I wanted to respond surprisingly quickly.

“It drives me crazy...but in a good way.”

After another pause, I clarified.

“It makes me feel something.”

Paula nodded. Interaction with new people isn’t always easy for me, and I felt relieved that we seemed to be on the same page. I told her how “Pent Up” made me feel as someone with ADD, and she directed me to some of her other work and spoke about her personal inspirations for each one. We parted ways after a few minutes, and I was left to consider that art can be both an expression of the artist and a message to its viewer. It connects an artist to their audience and allows for personal connection.

This, I think, is a critical reason why art is so significant to neurodivergent people. For those of us who may struggle in social situations, art gives us an outlet to express ourselves, and to find commonality in the expression of others. It speaks a language that doesn’t impose itself upon or demand anything from us but is still deeply human. One that deals in feelings rather than social conventions, so we are not bound by endless unwritten rules that we struggle to decode.

Neurodivergent people, and most everyone, I think, look for connection. We seek it out in others in the hope that something inside them is like that which is in ourselves. Sometimes we find it in conversation, or maybe from a shared experience. But sometimes we connect with someone before we ever really talk to them. When I first saw Paula in the lobby that day, I struggled to start a conversation. When she thanked me for coming, I simply smiled and nodded. It was her work that broke the ice, when Pent Up reached across the room and invited me. The next time Paula and I spoke, I knew exactly what to say. That’s what art can do.