Pixel Dance

As a lucky 15-year-old, I got the chance to visit Spain with my foreign language class. The experience was incredible — to stand in 16th century castles, to dip my feet in the Mediterranean, to experience history and culture that was beyond my horizons — left an indelible mark. Spain is a marvelous place, and I have always loved the culture and language. It is filled with passion and beauty. One of the best moments for me was our visit to El Museo Del Prado, really one of the premier art museums in the world. I don’t think I even realized what I had my hands on (figuratively) at the time, staring at Goya and El Greco, and even Picasso (his have since moved on). But the one painting that is still teaching me today is “Las Meninas.”

“Las Meninas” is a 10-foot canvas painted in 1646 by Diego Velázquez. It is a portrait of the King’s daughter, but in a way, it’s not. It’s a portrait of the King and Queen. But it a way, it’s not. It’s a self-portrait of Velázquez, but . . . it’s not. It’s brilliant in that on the surface, it looks like a portrait of a little girl. But as you look closer, the child is really in front of the real subjects — the King and Queen, as they are reflected in the mirror at the back of the painting. But then you realize that they are probably being reflected back from the canvas that is being painted by Velázquez himself. Which means that everyone in the painting is actually looking at you, the viewer. You are the now-noticed fly-on-the-wall as the King and Queen sit for a portrait, and their child, along with her maidservants, help pass the time.

The layers, the depth, the layout (almost like a stage), the story, the questions. It draws the viewer into the story, lets them finish the lines, fill in the blanks, be a part of the experience of the moment. As a 15-year-old, staring at the canvas, trying to decipher the whole story, I couldn’t see the way the artist used perspective, repetition, shade and lighting, focal point, diagonals, contrast . . . to tell a story. And I still don’t think I could pick it all out, it’s so thorough. I just know I felt as if I had walked into the painting, happening around me; as if I was sitting with the King and Queen, and they were reflecting back at me from the mirror. As if I was reflecting back at me.

You know, it’s a privilege to be a part of the design community. As designers, but especially the fine artists in our midst, we tell the story of our age. With our layers, our perspective, we draw the world into our story. We tell them what it’s like to be on our stage in this moment. The accountants don’t do that. The football players don’t do that. Only the artists leave the snapshot of this moment in history, for the ages to come and interpret. Who were we? What did we reflect back? What will they say about who we were in 400 years? It’s our job to develop the layers, the focal points, the story — to focus our viewer’s attention on what mattered here.

My hope for us is that our story isn’t flat. That our lines are full of dimension, and that our story takes years to investigate. And that it’s worth the attention of some 15-year-old in the future, who is looking to learn the lessons of life. I hope we, as a generation, can tell the story right, and that we tell the right story. Not of outward beauty, or trite, one-dimensional trivialities. I hope for it to be rich in wonder, making the viewer come back, find something else, and long to put themselves in the picture. I hope our beauty is lasting, and rich and deep. And remarkable.

I’d love to hear your posts on what you see, what you appreciate, and what your thoughts are on “Las Meninas.” I think it’s worth the discussion, and I’d love to hear from those of you who make creativity your living. What moves and motivates you? To see “Las Meninas,” and read the story, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Las_Meninas#Victuallers is a great place to start. I look forward to the discussion.