Better Than Dead

This entry is from February 29, 1998. Do I still agree with it? For the most part, I think I do.

I don’t know any serious artist who isn’t wounded in some way. Art is the thread Ariadne gave Theseus when he was sent into the Labyrinth towards the Minotaur. That thread, unwinding from the surface of the world, allows the artist to wander the dark and confusing ways of the Labyrinth to its core where the Minotaur waits. More importantly, once the Minotaur has been slain, that thread allows the serious artist to find a way back out of the underground and reemerge into the sunlight.

By serious artist, I don’t just mean someone who does serious art; I mean anyone who is compelled to do art of any kind, has no choice but to write it, paint it, enact it, sing it. Anyone who is possessed, even if they do art for no audience but themselves, uses that art to heal their soul. Soul not in a religious sense (at least not exclusively), but as a metaphor for that thing inside each of us which cries out to be more than the sum of our neuroses, our good and bad experiences. That thing deep inside which knows the right and wrong of our own heart.

Art is not the only way to steer this path through the Labyrinth, but it is the one which crosses the most boundaries of belief, because you don’t have to be of any particular credo to be an artist. You just have to have the need.

Random quote of the day:

“One writes out of one thing only—one’s own experience. Everything depends on how relentlessly one forces from this experience the last drop, sweet or bitter, it can possibly give. This is the only real concern of the artist, to recreate out of the disorder of life that order which is art.”

—James Baldwin, “Autobiographical Notes,” Collected Essays

 

 

Disclaimer:  The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

This journey is actually split into two parts: the first, a short discussion of this book:

and maybe a little bit about this one, as well:

Kathleen Bartholomew, the sister of sff writer Kage Baker, has been carrying on Kage’s legacy since Ms. Baker’s untimely death. She has put together collections of Kage’s stories, done the finishing touches on manuscripts left behind, and has been completing books begun by Kage. Subterranean Press has been publishing them. Kathleen’s wonderful blog chronicles in touching and lively detail the life she and her sister lived together, but also talks about the writers’ life, life in general, the Faire circuit, and spooky travels on California’s I-5. It’s a great loving stew of many flavors and exotic ingredients. Kathleen is a talented writer, often lyrical and moving, and her blog really is a delicious treat. I cannot recommend it highly enough.

Now, as to the second part of this journey. Not quite as lyrical and moving, but I never promised these posts about journeying around my room would be. In fact, one might even call the next part of our story a sordid journey into family politics. If one was a Drama Queen. I’ll leave it to you as to how to label it.

(more…)

Random quote of the day:

 

“Inspiration has never really factored in the creative process for me.  It’s been about work, and it’s been about sitting down and rather doggedly trying to achieve a certain kind of idea.”

—Nick Cave, interview, LA Weekly, September 12-18, 2008

 

 

Disclaimer:  The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

Random quote of the day:

 

“My life is music. And in some vague, mysterious, and subconscious way, I have always been driven by a taut inner spring which has propelled me to almost compulsively reach for perfection in music, often—in fact, mostly—at the expense of everything else in my life.”

—Stan Getz, quoted in Stan Getz: A Life in Jazz by Donald L. Maggin

 

 

Disclaimer:  The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

Random quote of the day:

 

“There are people who criticize my work…and say it is not realistic.  But I feel that merely copying the outward appearance of the world would not result in anything real—that is only copying.  I think that to find what is real one must look very closely at one’s world, to search for those things that contribute to this reality which one feels under the surface.  These are few and one uses them to create.  These are the core around which the world moves, the axis on which it turns….To be an artist means to search for, find, and look at these things; to be an artist means never to avert one’s eyes.”

—Akira Kurosawa, quoted in The Films of Akira Kurosawa by Donald Richie

 

 

Disclaimer:  The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

Random quote of the day:

 

“Gauguin, that curious artist, that alien whose mien and the look in whose eyes vaguely remind one of Rembrandt’s “Portrait of a Man” in the Galerie Lacaze —this friend of mine likes to make one feel that a good picture is equivalent to a good deed; not that he says so, but it is difficult to be on intimate terms with him without being aware of a certain moral responsibility.”

—Vincent Van Gogh, letter 626a, The Complete Letters of Vincent Van Gogh, Vol. 3, New York Graphic Society

 

Disclaimer:  The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

Today’s quote from Isak Dinesen—”I write a little every day, without hope, without despair”—strikes me as great advice. Not just for writing, but for living. I can see why Raymond Carver liked quoting it so much.

The thing is, though, it’s extremely difficult advice to follow. Much of the time life seems to take us—creative people as well as “normals”—on a crazy seesaw of hopes and disappointments. Our expectations and wants get us muddled as we try to do the tasks before us, and when we can’t meet all those desires and self-imposed goals, we fall into fits of despondency, think ourselves failures. The inner harpies of self-criticism kick in big time then. They rend and claw without mercy.

For creative people, this extends to and is magnified by the work we do. All creative work is a risk, a thing considered unnecessary by the larger world. There are so many layers of perceived failure available for us to choose from and beat ourselves up about. Creative people seem inevitably to go there, but it’s never a helpful place. It does us no good, it does our work no good.

So…without hope, without despair. Just you and the work. Just me and the work. A little every day, without expectations and the larger-than-life burdens we pile upon ourselves. Maybe this isn’t a recipe for the “current publishing environment,” but it is a recipe for doing the work when it feels like you just cannot. It’s a method of moving forward, even when the mudslides flow around your knees. It’s a practice that keeps the insanity at bay, the practice of doing the best you can with each day, and cutting yourself some slack about the other stuff.

When the harpies start piercing and biting, as oh ye gods they inevitably will, throw them a scrap of hope to gnaw on. Let them chew on that as much as they like so they stop distracting—because we don’t need it at the moment of creation any more than we need the despair.

Here’s a cool story. Some artists have decided to do something about the shrinking coral reefs around the world. They’ve been making statues our of “safe” concrete and anchoring them in places for coral to grow on—sometimes whole galleries of statues. They hope to take the “human pressure” off existing coral beds.

Not wanting to be left out, some artists who knit and crochet wanted to make their own coral. They asked for volunteers who came up with some amazing “coral” pieces which were later exhibited in Pittsburgh.

Go to the article to see more amazing statues and knit/crochet.

Random quote of the day:

“In order to do something new we must go back to the source, humanity in its infancy.”

—Paul Gauguin, interview with Eugène Tardieu, L’Écho de Paris, May 13, 1895

Disclaimer:  The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.