There are certain works of art that make me pause.
For me, it is often tension that catches my attention. Sometimes it is tension between two forms. Other times, it is tension between states of consciousness and what is perceived. There is something unresolved that makes me want to stay with the work a little longer.
I think part of that comes from seeing myself within the work. Not just my own work, but the work of other artists. I may recognize a sense of confusion, feeling lost, fear, or sometimes even a sense of letting go.
I don't necessarily want to know what the artist intended me to see. In fact, I would rather not be told. I want the opportunity to discover my own relationship with the work and maybe, in turn, talk about what I feel when I look at it. In a strange way, that opens a connection not only with the person who created it, but with other people who appreciate the work too.
I think that's part of the beauty of looking at art. You can see something new every time you take it in because you, as a person, are always changing. The people around you change. Your circumstances change. Something that once felt confusing may eventually feel completely different.
The artwork may stay the same, but you don't.
Maybe that's also why choosing art can feel so personal.
There are a lot of preconceived notions about who an art collector is. Sometimes it can feel as though there are certain rules you're supposed to follow or things you're supposed to know before you're allowed to call yourself a collector. And unfairly, I think collecting art can sometimes take on a perception of status.
I don't think art should feel like a members-only club.
When something resonates with you in a profound way, choosing to bring it into your life can be a way of honoring yourself. It marks a moment in time and a sense of your own presence. In a way, it becomes a remembrance—something you can return to and center yourself around when other parts of life are changing.
I think about it almost like listening to a song over and over again. Sometimes you don't need to explain why you keep playing it. You want to hear it again because of how it makes you feel. It takes you somewhere, reminds you of something, or brings you back to yourself.
Art can do that too.
And when someone connects with something I've created, I don't need them to see what I saw when I made it. To me, there's something beautiful about sharing something that gives another person the opportunity to feel without using words.
Eventually, the work becomes part of their space and their own story.
Everyone's space is different. A piece might find its place in an office, a study, a bedroom, or a main living space. Over time, other pieces may find their way in too. They don't have to match or even make sense together. In a way, a collection becomes a kind of biography, with each piece marking something that felt meaningful to you at a particular moment in your life.
We already express ourselves this way through how we dress and style our bodies—the clothes we choose, the jewelry we wear, the things we carry with us.
The walls of our homes can be an extension of ourselves too.
Maybe collecting art doesn't have to begin with deciding to become an art collector. Maybe it begins much more simply.
You see something.
You keep looking at it.
You walk away and find yourself thinking about it again.
And maybe that's worth paying attention to.
Because surrounding yourself with things that make you feel more like yourself can be priceless.
