I have terrible confession to make. I’m not an art lover. Sure, I enjoy certain artists. I really like Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, and I’m a big Mary Blair fan. But when it comes to art as a whole, my feelings are decidedly lukewarm.
Maybe it is because the art world is just so damn intimidating. I’m never sure what I’m supposed to be seeing in painting. I know there is usually some deeper meaning behind the subject, but for the life of me I just don’t get what that field of wheat is supposed to symbolize besides, you know, some wheat. But that was before I found Sister Wendy.
That’s right I love me some Sister Wendy.
And not just because she’s just all-around freaking adorable.
I love her because she was the first person that was able to talk about art in a way that made me understand it. When she describes in her little lispy voice about the symbology in a particular painting, I can actually see what she sees. For an ignoramus like me, that’s quite a revelation.