PROBLEM: I'm faced with a blank canvas, an empty, crispy, ultra white sheet of paper if you will. What do I do with it, what do I fill it with?
This is a thought I've been mulling over for a little while now. And do I have an answer? No.
But I know two things: 1) I don't want to fill it with what I've already had, what I've already learned, what I've already done. I don't want to make it look like a picture I've already painted. And 2) I don't want to have my canvas look like anybody else's, like the pre-formulated, standard stuff sold at 30 copies a time in your local superstore.
Why is art called 'art'? Because of what meaning it holds in the eye of the beholder? Or because it is an utterly unique, one-of-kind piece that no one can ever copy? Sure maybe someone can copy the outside, but can they bring the beauty, no...the feeling, the sheer experience that the artist went through and brought to making that work of art? You know, the sweat, tears, the frustrations, the laughs, the interruptions, the mood swings, the inner thoughts that drive each human being? Isn't it THAT that makes every dot, streak etc. that appear on a canvas art? Because no one can know when or why or how that dot or streak was place right in the millimeter of space?
You may be thinking, what on earth is she talking about? I recently read 'Drops like Stars', and there is one part that has given my initial 'problem' a lot more body, has allowed me to process it more. Let me just quote it, and leave it at that.
"Heschel in 1972 had this to say to young people: 'Above all, remember that the meaning of life is to live it as if it were a work of art. You're not a machine.'
Harriet March, a sculptor, explains how she sees the world through her work.
'But no matter how much the mess and distortion make you want to despair, you can't abandon the work because you're chained to the bloody things, it's absolutely woven into your soul and you know you can never rest until you've brought truth out of all the distortion and beauty out of all the mess - but it's agony, agony, agony - while simultaneously being the most wonderful and rewarding experience in the world - and that's the creative process which so few people understand.
It involves an indestructible sort of fidelity, and insane sort of hope, and indescribably sort of ... well, it's love, isn't it? There's no other word for it...
That's creation ... You can't create without waste and mess and sheer undilute slog. You can't create without pain. It's all part of the process.
So in the end every major disaster, every tiny error, every wrong turning, every fragment of discarded clay, all the blood, sweat and tears - everything has meaning. I give it meaning, I reuse, reshape, recast all that goes wrong so that in the end nothing is wasted and nothing is without significance and nothing ceases to be precious to me.'"
If there can be beauty/wonder in everything, why do we want our canvases, the boxes or rules we live by, the meaning we give to our lives, to look like everything and everyone else's??
This is a thought I've been mulling over for a little while now. And do I have an answer? No.
But I know two things: 1) I don't want to fill it with what I've already had, what I've already learned, what I've already done. I don't want to make it look like a picture I've already painted. And 2) I don't want to have my canvas look like anybody else's, like the pre-formulated, standard stuff sold at 30 copies a time in your local superstore.
Why is art called 'art'? Because of what meaning it holds in the eye of the beholder? Or because it is an utterly unique, one-of-kind piece that no one can ever copy? Sure maybe someone can copy the outside, but can they bring the beauty, no...the feeling, the sheer experience that the artist went through and brought to making that work of art? You know, the sweat, tears, the frustrations, the laughs, the interruptions, the mood swings, the inner thoughts that drive each human being? Isn't it THAT that makes every dot, streak etc. that appear on a canvas art? Because no one can know when or why or how that dot or streak was place right in the millimeter of space?
You may be thinking, what on earth is she talking about? I recently read 'Drops like Stars', and there is one part that has given my initial 'problem' a lot more body, has allowed me to process it more. Let me just quote it, and leave it at that.
"Heschel in 1972 had this to say to young people: 'Above all, remember that the meaning of life is to live it as if it were a work of art. You're not a machine.'
Harriet March, a sculptor, explains how she sees the world through her work.
'But no matter how much the mess and distortion make you want to despair, you can't abandon the work because you're chained to the bloody things, it's absolutely woven into your soul and you know you can never rest until you've brought truth out of all the distortion and beauty out of all the mess - but it's agony, agony, agony - while simultaneously being the most wonderful and rewarding experience in the world - and that's the creative process which so few people understand.
It involves an indestructible sort of fidelity, and insane sort of hope, and indescribably sort of ... well, it's love, isn't it? There's no other word for it...
That's creation ... You can't create without waste and mess and sheer undilute slog. You can't create without pain. It's all part of the process.
So in the end every major disaster, every tiny error, every wrong turning, every fragment of discarded clay, all the blood, sweat and tears - everything has meaning. I give it meaning, I reuse, reshape, recast all that goes wrong so that in the end nothing is wasted and nothing is without significance and nothing ceases to be precious to me.'"
If there can be beauty/wonder in everything, why do we want our canvases, the boxes or rules we live by, the meaning we give to our lives, to look like everything and everyone else's??
