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When work sells it brings excitement to both the creator and the collector. Featured below are the comments by the later about work from the former.
In answer to your question as to how the art makes me feel upon seeing it, what I have found is that my initial feelings for the artwork, however valid they were at the time, have changed now that I have had sufficient time to appreciate the entire scope of the work. Certainly, I was first drawn to the double entendre title, the weathered contours of the rock, and the three-dimensional quality of the two-dimensional picture. In fact, for this particular subject, I think that black and white is the medium of choice, since all of the components of the picture (with the exception of the two hikers and cable) are millions of years old. Even Kodachrome, now extinct, would have been too new a choice to adequately capture the timeless essence of the subject matter.
At the present time, two months post-unveiling, I enjoy the completely different interpretations which are possible when the image is viewed from afar or close-up. From a distance, it appears as a highly detailed picture of a rock, a macro view of a relatively small subject. Upon closer inspection however, with the recognition of the two hikers, the immensity of the backdrop becomes readily apparent; the relative insignificance (certainly in size) of the two people pictured is overwhelmingly obvious.
As with other pictures my wife and I have purchased, the image has to convey (which scale and perspective does) qualities which make the viewer ponder life’s profound questions of epistomology… or maybe I just wanted a picture of Greg Phipps to grace my hallway!
In truth, the only scaling I have personally done in Yosemite Valley was when the elevator at the Ahwahnee was crowded, and I was forced to walk up two (yes, I know!) whole flights of stairs to my room.
[Furthermore] Great art, like great literature, and great wine (Trefethen), all serve to lift people up, elevating them to places previously not thought possible. For a brief moment, or perhaps a more extended period of time, everyday concerns are put on hold, as people are forced to stop, slow down, and appreciate the work before them (as well as good run-on sentences). Perhaps it evokes a pleasant memory, bringing a smile to a person’s face. Perhaps it transports them to a place they would like to visit someday. Perhaps it does nothing more than convey a sense of beauty, simplicity, or complexity that had been lacking in someone’s life. In any event, there is enjoyment that is derived from viewing art, and that particular enjoyment cannot be replicated by other means. Nothing else forces us to think about the human condition as much as art does. In ultimate ironic fashion, art classes are often the first ones cut in times of budget restraints, when, as it turns out, we need them most.