Megan O'Grady's book, "How It Feels to Be Alive," challenges conventional notions of art and its reception. Throughout history, defining art has been a contentious issue, from Pope Julius II dictating Michelangelo's work to Mayor Giuliani's dismissive remarks about modern art. O'Grady reflects on this societal tendency to devalue art that appears simple or unconventional, recalling a moment at Dia:Beacon where a fellow visitor's casual dismissal of a Robert Ryman painting deeply saddened her. This sentiment stems from the persistent external pressures on artists and their creations, including how art is produced, the identity of its creator, and who is deemed capable of appreciating or understanding it. O'Grady's work suggests that a crucial aspect of engaging with art lies in our capacity for empathy. She poignantly illustrates this through an anecdote about a couple who found Michael Cunningham’s novel, "The Hours," unrelatable due to its focus on themes of alienation and mortality, only to face similar struggles in their own lives shortly after. This highlights O'Grady's central argument: while relevance may be subjective, the ability to recognize ourselves in others and the compassion that follows is fundamental to our shared humanity.
O'Grady delves into five distinct artworks, contextualizing them within both their creation and her personal journey. One notable example is Agnes Martin's "Friendship," a six-foot gold leaf grid that O'Grady encountered during a period of intense loneliness. She interprets Martin's grid paintings as a metaphor for navigating life's boundaries and societal expectations. Martin's own life, marked by a yearning for both solitude and connection, mirrors O'Grady's reflections on the delicate balance between companionship and isolation. The profound influence of Martin's relationship with textile artist Lenora Tawney, who championed Martin's work, further underscores the significance of supportive bonds. O'Grady extends this exploration to her own relationships and the urban landscapes she has inhabited, finding in Martin's art a "retroactive reprieve" and a space for introspection. She contemplates what remains when established rules and structures no longer serve their purpose, drawing parallels between artistic expression and personal resilience. In examining Carrie Mae Weems's "Kitchen Table Series" and Berthe Morisot's self-portraits, O'Grady connects the artistic dialogue to her own experiences as a mother, emphasizing art-making as an ongoing practice of exploration rather than a quest for perfect mastery, echoing Barbara Kruger's belief in the value of our sincerest endeavors.
The book also explores Pope.L's "Flint Water Project," which prompts O'Grady to meditate on the concept of home, particularly after a personal tragedy involving her own apartment. Pope.L's work exposes the systemic inequities of race and class that shape American cities, offering a path forward by fostering a heightened awareness of our physical and emotional environments. O'Grady concludes her journey with Beverly Pepper's monumental sculptures and the ancient Chacoan civilization, reflecting on the cyclical nature of destruction and renewal. The Chaco Canyon ruins, with their sophisticated engineering and celestial alignments, serve as a testament to human ingenuity and resilience in the face of environmental challenges, a stark contrast to contemporary struggles. This ancient wisdom, coupled with a student's heartfelt exclamation, "Thank God for art, right?" reinforces the profound and enduring power of art to provide insight, solace, and a renewed sense of purpose amidst life's inherent complexities.
Ultimately, "How It Feels to Be Alive" is a compelling testament to the transformative power of art. It encourages us to look beyond superficial interpretations, inviting a deeper engagement that fosters empathy, personal growth, and a profound understanding of our shared human experience. Art, in O'Grady's vision, is not merely an aesthetic object but a vital tool for navigating the intricate tapestry of life, offering guidance, perspective, and an enduring sense of hope.