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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Louanne Learning
Active Member
Member
New Member
Role Play Moderator
Winner: 4th Contest Feb
Winner: 4th Contest August
Winner: June Flash Fiction
There are two words that keep coming back to me, in the context of the artistic experience – trust and truth
Artists need to trust themselves to tell the truth. This is especially true for writers.
When you ask “what was it like for me?” – you’re diving into the invisible, and we gotta have faith in our invisible
It’s not mystical! It is entirely human.
Consider – when you were editing chapter one ten times – what were you adjusting?
Being an artist just means taking responsibility for your work.
Artists need to trust themselves to tell the truth. This is especially true for writers.
When you ask “what was it like for me?” – you’re diving into the invisible, and we gotta have faith in our invisible
It’s not mystical! It is entirely human.
Consider – when you were editing chapter one ten times – what were you adjusting?
Being an artist just means taking responsibility for your work.
Louanne Learning
Active Member
Member
New Member
Role Play Moderator
Winner: 4th Contest Feb
Winner: 4th Contest August
Winner: June Flash Fiction
Below is a page out of An Almanac of Birds: 100 Divinations for Uncertain Days – which reads like a call to artists to their art.
Two take-aways from this “divination” –
Break free. Be as outlandish as you can. Do not censor yourself, especially on that first draft, but let your imagination run wild and follow it wherever it goes. F*ck the inner critic.
Love what you are doing. This is not only love for what you’re writing, but for the reader. Writing at heart is an act of sharing.
Two take-aways from this “divination” –
Break free. Be as outlandish as you can. Do not censor yourself, especially on that first draft, but let your imagination run wild and follow it wherever it goes. F*ck the inner critic.
Love what you are doing. This is not only love for what you’re writing, but for the reader. Writing at heart is an act of sharing.
A thought on art from Ralph Waldo Emerson that's got me thinking:
"Perpetual modernness is the measure of merit in every work of art."
I take it to mean that while art doesn't have to reflect our current time and place, it must work to put the reader or listener or observer into a place where what the artist produces seems modern, that the recipient can identify with and relate in some way to it as pertaining to them.
To test that theory, I picked up a translation of Gilgamesh, which actually predates the Bible. The culture it portrays is fundamentally different from our own, but after reading a few pages I could slip into that culture and see its point of view. So, in that sense, it's modern to me...it relates to my own time.
"Perpetual modernness is the measure of merit in every work of art."
I take it to mean that while art doesn't have to reflect our current time and place, it must work to put the reader or listener or observer into a place where what the artist produces seems modern, that the recipient can identify with and relate in some way to it as pertaining to them.
To test that theory, I picked up a translation of Gilgamesh, which actually predates the Bible. The culture it portrays is fundamentally different from our own, but after reading a few pages I could slip into that culture and see its point of view. So, in that sense, it's modern to me...it relates to my own time.
Louanne Learning
Active Member
Member
New Member
Role Play Moderator
Winner: 4th Contest Feb
Winner: 4th Contest August
Winner: June Flash Fiction
I've read it!
The oldest known poem - Epic of Gilgamesh, from ancient Mesopotamia, dating to the Third Dynasty of Ur, circa 2100 BCE.
Below is the first part of Tablet One (the beginning of a journey for Gilgamesh).
He who has seen everything, I will make known (?) to the lands.
I will teach (?) about him who experienced all things,
... alike,
Anu granted him the totality of knowledge of all.
He saw the Secret, discovered the Hidden,
he brought information of (the time) before the Flood.
He went on a distant journey, pushing himself to exhaustion,
but then was brought to peace.
He carved on a stone stela all of his toils,
and built the wall of Uruk-Haven,
the wall of the sacred Eanna Temple, the holy sanctuary.
Look at its wall which gleams like copper(?),
inspect its inner wall, the likes of which no one can equal!
Take hold of the threshold stone--it dates from ancient times!
Go close to the Eanna Temple, the residence of Ishtar,
such as no later king or man ever equaled!
Go up on the wall of Uruk and walk around,
examine its foundation, inspect its brickwork thoroughly.
Is not (even the core of) the brick structure made of kiln-fired brick,
and did not the Seven Sages themselves lay out its plans?
One league city, one league palm gardens, one league lowlands, the open area(?) of the Ishtar Temple,
three leagues and the open area(?) of Uruk it (the wall) encloses.
Find the copper tablet box,
open the ... of its lock of bronze,
undo the fastening of its secret opening.
Take and read out from the lapis lazuli tablet
how Gilgamesh went through every hardship.
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