My Christina's World

The joy of great art is that one is able to make of it what they want. For example: the Andrew Wyeth painting Christina’s World is supposedly a testament to a young woman’s physical depravity, as we see her the farthest she’s ever been from her home; sitting alone in the middle of a field staring back at her farm house. For the artist this painting was intended to evoke feelings of pity, sadness and injustice that such should be the fate of this young woman. However, when I look at this painting I am invigorated. From the moment I saw it in poster form hanging from my brother’s bedroom wall I became subtly obsessed by it. I visited the original at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City and bought the poster myself which hung on the wall in every room I’ve lived in since.
To be honest, I don’t care what Wyeth’s vision for this painting was, apart from that he wished to create something beautiful. The painting makes me happy, I can’t really explain it any better. I want to be Christina, as I’ve constructed her in my own mind; a beautiful, peaceful, content woman enjoying a few stolen hours, sitting alone in a vast expanse of Nebraskan prairie. Even when I learned of the painting’s inspiration: a young crippled woman, and the beginning of her crawl back to her home, I was only heartbroken for a few moments. I realized that it didn’t matter to me because she wasn’t the Christina of my mind.
I wonder what the painter would think of my interpretation of this work; whether or not he would be disappointed that I don’t appreciate the painting for the reasons that inspired its creation. Perhaps this is actually the mark of great art. It opens its doors to interpretation and allows one to interact with it in the way they choose, or in the way that’s natural for them.