"In fact, I feel--maybe I'm crazy--that the solution to all my problems is to write my way, if not out of them, then through them." -David Bradley in Letters to a Fiction Writer.
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This morning I'm pondering writing and art and the artist's way of viewing the world. This line of thought is really the braiding of several other strands of wonder. I re-reading The King of Attolia (possibly one of the best books I have ever read! It is by Megan Whalen Turner, and it is a young adult book, but the complexity of plot and character make it worth any one's time) and wondered how she came up with the idea and how she managed to keep the plot clear and yet hidden until it is slowly brought to light through the course of the story.
Another thread of thought comes from making lesson plans for a creative writing class at school. The first lesson is about journals and how the best way to become a better writer is to write--as much as possible, whenever you get a chance, every day. I was looking through my journals to find something I can make into an overhead transparency and share with a bunch of 6th grade boys and girls. It's harder than I thought it would be, but also more interesting than I thought. My journals (the many that I have) start to show a glimpse of a work in progress--me. Write about what you know; or is it, write so that you will know? All in all it convinced me to keep writing in my journal every day, no matter what, even if I have nothing profound to say. Because the mundane just might be more profound anyway.
The final piece of the braid comes from spending most of the day Saturday trying to draw a picture of my daughter. I've drawn pictures of my characters, and thought maybe I should take the time to draw someone real and dear. Well, I picked a pose that was much more difficult than I realized. Her head is cocked sideways and down and is a b-- to draw. I see the shape of the head--but I don't. I see the line and the way it angles and curves--but I don't. Or at least, I don't in the sense of being able to reproduce it.
So, braid all these thoughts together and what do I get? Art is more than just a way of seeing; it is a way of re-producing what you see. And in the re-producing, you make something new. Does this make sense? I'm not sure. I'm pondering as I write, as I draw, as I view the world around me. Maybe it all has to do with another thread from the weekend--a conversation with my oldest sister, who is the proud (and harried) mother of a 5 year old and 2 1/2 year old twins. She was lamenting the lack of time to create. After I got off the phone, I talked with my husband about that drive to create something, whether it be a fabulous pie, or a fishing lure, or a picture, or a quilt, or a snowman... He thought that is has to do with the desire to leave behind some evidence of your existence. That may be. I tend to think it goes even deeper than that; I think the desire to create something is an innate part of who we are as human beings--or, if you will, how we were created to be. Art (in the very broad sense of the word) is a way of becoming who we are meant to be.
Then again, it could be that I haven't had enough coffee and the day is young and I am full of bullshit--like most writers are. What do you think?
Another thread of thought comes from making lesson plans for a creative writing class at school. The first lesson is about journals and how the best way to become a better writer is to write--as much as possible, whenever you get a chance, every day. I was looking through my journals to find something I can make into an overhead transparency and share with a bunch of 6th grade boys and girls. It's harder than I thought it would be, but also more interesting than I thought. My journals (the many that I have) start to show a glimpse of a work in progress--me. Write about what you know; or is it, write so that you will know? All in all it convinced me to keep writing in my journal every day, no matter what, even if I have nothing profound to say. Because the mundane just might be more profound anyway.
The final piece of the braid comes from spending most of the day Saturday trying to draw a picture of my daughter. I've drawn pictures of my characters, and thought maybe I should take the time to draw someone real and dear. Well, I picked a pose that was much more difficult than I realized. Her head is cocked sideways and down and is a b-- to draw. I see the shape of the head--but I don't. I see the line and the way it angles and curves--but I don't. Or at least, I don't in the sense of being able to reproduce it.
So, braid all these thoughts together and what do I get? Art is more than just a way of seeing; it is a way of re-producing what you see. And in the re-producing, you make something new. Does this make sense? I'm not sure. I'm pondering as I write, as I draw, as I view the world around me. Maybe it all has to do with another thread from the weekend--a conversation with my oldest sister, who is the proud (and harried) mother of a 5 year old and 2 1/2 year old twins. She was lamenting the lack of time to create. After I got off the phone, I talked with my husband about that drive to create something, whether it be a fabulous pie, or a fishing lure, or a picture, or a quilt, or a snowman... He thought that is has to do with the desire to leave behind some evidence of your existence. That may be. I tend to think it goes even deeper than that; I think the desire to create something is an innate part of who we are as human beings--or, if you will, how we were created to be. Art (in the very broad sense of the word) is a way of becoming who we are meant to be.
Then again, it could be that I haven't had enough coffee and the day is young and I am full of bullshit--like most writers are. What do you think?
9 comments:
Sarah;
Some very deep and profound thinking. It makes me think about my own "art" of writing. Since I can't draw, without a T-square and a triangle, I see my writing as painting with words. Like paints, some words are bold and saturated with color; others are more subdued. If I can touch one person with my words, I have succeeded.
I think you're right; the need to create is inborn. We "created" many huts when we were kids. Most were four upright, crotched sticks with other sticks set in the crotches to form a roof. Those sticks were crossed with other sticks and the whole thing covered with grass. Or we whittled or made swords or made gun holsters out of scrap leather from Wolverine. We built dams on a small creek across the road. We carved fishing lures and doctored the metal ones. Somewhere those activities got lost for the next couple generations.
Sarah,
Love your creation. And I think that creativity is very deep and mysterious, and has more than just ego attached to it. I'm writing, just now, about Ken Wilber's theories, the nature of all things, really a map of reality, and combining these thoughts with those of Julia Cameron (The Artist's Way), creativity, jazz, recovery, etc.
It looks like a mess, but sometimes writing does when one begins.
Simply put - it certainly appears that, one way or another, we are created. And being created, we are creations. And it is in our very deepest essence that we experience and act on that part of ourselves to turn around and then create. It is a spiritual act. And most of our contentment is derived from our creativity, whether what is produced is a pie or a child or a story or a snowman. And it's deeper, I think, than ego. It connects us with the true essence of the universe, which is one big act of continuous creation, when seen from a great distance shows us the face of the Buddha.
Or that's one way to put it.
And, no, I'm not smoking anything.
Mike
I've got to get that book by Julie Cameron! You've quoted it enough that now I'm interested.
Another question/thought. Do you think some "art" is better or truer than others? I mean, you talked about creating a child. It is creating (and parts of that creating are definitely enjoyable!) but is it art? Is all creating a form of art?
Or maybe it is an individual thing. Maybe what is art for one person isn't for another? Larry talked about painting with words. I've used this analogy as well. It is just a different way of expressing how we see the world. But what is my first language? Or can one be equally proficient in several different languages?
Just thinking about art. I guess picking up drawing has made me expand my world. Now I wonder what else is out there.
I would love to be able to draw--I mean besides stick figures. Even art doesn't have to be perfect. One writer illustrated his own books. His dogs had almost a "doodley" quality but they conveyed his idea. On the other end, I have waterfowl art prints where you can almost count the feathers. I don't think one is better than the other. They both are created with love, respect, etc. And we can certainly do the same thing with words.
Creating a baby is different. There's a Divine Intervention in that we are all created with souls that are not part of our doing. We may take credit for "creating" a good student, a useful member of society, etc. but even there our kids have their own goals and drives. My son excells for the sake of meeting his goals and expectations. My daughter also excells, but for different reasons. A's come easy for her; Aaron works hard to get his. As parents, outside of trying to teach them to do their homework, manners, honesty, etc. we have limited input into our "creations."
But making babies is certainly more fun that teaching Emily Post's ideals, even if we have to practice a lot before we get the baby.
A good roundtable discussion at Khardoma.
Sarah,
Interesting distinction. To create is to bring something into existence, and art is the craft of creating an aesthetic object. Or so says the dictionary. They are not the same, though it would appear that all art must be created, though all creations are not art.
I think you'll like the Julia Cameron.
Mike
"Art is the craft of creating an aesthetic object."
I know there have been debates over the word aesthetic. One person's art is another person's peeing Jesus. I find the "craft of creating" the interesting part. Writing is definitely a craft, a skill one works at and hones in order to produce/create whatever it is that is in them.
Art is the craft of bringing myself into existence? It kind of feels that way a lot of times. For a while there I was a wife and a mother and a librarian, but not Sarah. Writing helped that change--or at least not feel that way anymore. Art is a way of becoming who I am meant to be? It is a way of finding out who I am? Maybe any or all of the above.
So art is the craft of bringing into existence something of aesthetic value. Me? I wouldn't always agree with that, but maybe sometimes.
Interesting thoughts. I love to stretch my mind now and then. Sometimes I feel like I get in a rut with my thinking just like with what I make for dinner.
"Art is a way of becoming who I am meant to be? It is a way of finding out who I am?"
I've known who I am for a long time. I know I'm more maudlin than most men when it comes to outdoor stuff--finding a wildflower or watching a heron wade or geese land is as much about fishing as catching fish. The "art" of writing lets me share that part of myself with others in a way that I would not be as comfortable expressing verbally. The "craft" let's me say it in the best way I can "create."
Well, Larry,
I am very glad you share that "maudlin" part of yourself with me. And that, as an artist, you share it so well.
Thanks, Sarah. I needed a boost today. It's been a very depressing couple of weeks. I'm ready for spring. Maybe I'll take a walk tonight. Finding bittersweet always puts a smile on my face.
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