I'm reopening this thread. Please treat each other respect, and if you don't have anything new or informative to contribute, please refrain from responding.
The artistic experience
- Thread starter Louanne Learning
- Start date
Thanks, Homer. I regretted the closure of the thread, and am glad that it's back.
I had to go over and re-read all the entries to find out what I'd said before and what others have commented on. Before I go to my next comment, I'll review these:
When this thread closed, I was about to give my opinion on whether writing is an art. Like any other endeavor, my art comes in when I examine what I've written, and critique it, and amend it. (And I should add that the writing often happens in the writer's head, before the pen or the keyboard is used.) Is it what I wanted to say? Does it invoke any impression of what I was feeling when I wrote it? Could it be improved? Is this something that I could encounter years later, when the piece is no longer fresh in my mind, and think: "Yes, this is something that still conveys what I wanted to say"?
In the process, I use the tools I have at hand: vocabulary, grammar, punctuation, and familiarity with the topic. I could use these tools well, or I could use them haphazardly. That is the difference between good art and bad art, no matter what the medium.
The tools largely define the art. The painter has the brush, the paint, the canvas, the easel, and the palette. The woodcarver has the wood, the knives, the chisels, and the stand. The singer has the voice, the choice of instrumental accompaniment, the studio's recording process. The songwriter has the words and the melody and, often, the choice of performer of the music. These are all things that distinguish good art from bad art.
And the artist's mission is to use those tools to create something that did not exist before the creation of the art. The Beatles gave up performing because they no longer felt obliged to be creative (or, in the concerts they gave, even heard). After a certain point, they felt that only in the studio could they advance their art, doing things that were impossible in a live concert setting.
One more thing: Art doesn't necessarily need an audience. I can write to perfection and then burn the manuscript. A singer can sing in an empty room. A woodcarver can toss the carving into the fire after he's finished with it. But in every case, the creation isn't random or unworthy of the effort. It sharpens the artist's skills and gives a sense of gratification for having done the art, and provokes the need to seek improvement. I played guitar for many years just to amuse myself before I ever made a practice of performing for others. It wasn't wasted effort.
I had to go over and re-read all the entries to find out what I'd said before and what others have commented on. Before I go to my next comment, I'll review these:
I had the same experience when my local art museum hosted a show of Norman Rockwell paintings. Of course, I'd seen most of them in reproductions, including some of the stuff he did for the Saturday Evening Post when my mother subscribed to it. But when I saw the originals, I was flabbergasted by the way he used color and texture to create the impression of depth, things that were not transferred in the reproductions. I have the same feelings for Jerald Silva's work, which I've seen in reproductions and in his original art. The reproductions simply don't do justice to the originals. They are Beethoven's Fifth Symphony as performed by a string quartet of instruments not quite in tune.
When this thread closed, I was about to give my opinion on whether writing is an art. Like any other endeavor, my art comes in when I examine what I've written, and critique it, and amend it. (And I should add that the writing often happens in the writer's head, before the pen or the keyboard is used.) Is it what I wanted to say? Does it invoke any impression of what I was feeling when I wrote it? Could it be improved? Is this something that I could encounter years later, when the piece is no longer fresh in my mind, and think: "Yes, this is something that still conveys what I wanted to say"?
In the process, I use the tools I have at hand: vocabulary, grammar, punctuation, and familiarity with the topic. I could use these tools well, or I could use them haphazardly. That is the difference between good art and bad art, no matter what the medium.
The tools largely define the art. The painter has the brush, the paint, the canvas, the easel, and the palette. The woodcarver has the wood, the knives, the chisels, and the stand. The singer has the voice, the choice of instrumental accompaniment, the studio's recording process. The songwriter has the words and the melody and, often, the choice of performer of the music. These are all things that distinguish good art from bad art.
And the artist's mission is to use those tools to create something that did not exist before the creation of the art. The Beatles gave up performing because they no longer felt obliged to be creative (or, in the concerts they gave, even heard). After a certain point, they felt that only in the studio could they advance their art, doing things that were impossible in a live concert setting.
One more thing: Art doesn't necessarily need an audience. I can write to perfection and then burn the manuscript. A singer can sing in an empty room. A woodcarver can toss the carving into the fire after he's finished with it. But in every case, the creation isn't random or unworthy of the effort. It sharpens the artist's skills and gives a sense of gratification for having done the art, and provokes the need to seek improvement. I played guitar for many years just to amuse myself before I ever made a practice of performing for others. It wasn't wasted effort.
Louanne Learning
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