Monday, October 15, 2007
More Graffiti from Blanchard Dam
Here are more photos of graffiti from Blanchard Dam. Thanks for indulging me.
Btw, the last bit of graffiti says, "Nature Thru a Fence," in case you're having trouble reading it. Notice that Hubby artistically took the shot to show the fence in the foreground.
Labels: art, blanchard dam, graffiti, husband, photos
Old News & Modern Art
Today was a writing day. I managed almost 1,000 words on a new story, the last in my Greenville series. Because I was busy with that, today I'm presenting you with some old news. Last week, on my birthday, my husband, Young Son #2 and I took a trip to Blanchard Dam. I had never been before and neither had Young Son. I was wholly impressed with the dam, the Soo Line trestle bridge (which is now a recreational trail) and all of the graffiti. Now, I know there are lots of people out there who can't standing graffiti, what with its defacement of public and private property, but that aside, I can truly appreciate the artistry presented. Especially when you think about the pressure the artists must be facing to get their tagging done before they are caught.
Labels: art, artist, blanchard dam, graffiti, greenville, husband, short story, writing, young son
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Modern Art Pissing Match
I left a comment on the Dangerous Intersection blog a few days ago and suddenly found myself in a pissing match. I didn't ask to be in a pissing match, but that's where I was.
Erich Vieth posted a picture of a couple of modern art paintings and said that he "wasn't tempted to buy either of these paintings," which were going for $1,300 and $3,200. He indicated that he didn't "get" modern art, which is something I've heard a lot from non-artists. It's as if they feel they don't have the expertise to judge art based on how they react to it. I agreed with Erich, saying that I wouldn't buy the paintings either, and mentioned that our experience of art is subjective - trying to let him know that he could trust his own instincts when it came to paintings.
For opening my mouth, I was promptly challenged by a commenter with the screen name gatomjp to explain myself in detail and to show some of my own work. I felt that I was being placed in a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. If I didn't link up to my work, I'd be considered chicken. If I did, I'd be placing my art in line for potential potshots, which may or may not be based on the fact that I said something that was disagreeable to gatomjp. I don't have much up in the way of art on my blog, but I did link to my artist trading cards. Gatomjp also asked me to define why, precisely, I didn't like the two paintings presented in the blog.
My reply garnered this response from gatomjp: "Sorry, Mary that's not good enough." I was expected to give an essay on the technical aspects of why I didn't like the paintings. It wasn't good enough that I simply didn't care for them. Gatomjp also leapt to the assumption that I didn't like abstract art at all. He/she did indicate liking my artist trading cards, which was a surprise considering the tone of the rest of his/her comments. I was beginning to think that maybe gatomjp was the artist of the pictured paintings, or perhaps an artist who produced paintings like those pictured. I was stumped by the vehemence at which this person was going after me and thought that if I'd been at a party and someone jumped on me like this, I'd find a way to distance myself right quick. It's not that I mind be asked to give a more in-depth explanation for my opinions, but a little honey (i.e. nicely asking), rather than vinegar (i.e. making assumptions that aren't true) goes a long way in getting my cooperation.
I obliged anyway, giving a long, detailed comment about how a painting can be technically perfect, but if it doesn't speak to my emotions, it will have missed its mark. I used music as my alternate example, because non-musicians have no problem determining what sort of music they enjoy.
As I was thinking further about this issue, and waiting to see how gatomjp would respond to my long comment, I realized that there was more that I had to say about technical vs. emotional aspects in creative works, this time in the subject of literature. When I write short stories, I'm always concerned with the technical aspects of telling a story. How do I turn this phrase? What's my point of view? Am I using cliches? How's my spelling and grammar? Did I break that paragraph at the right time? Do I have any plot holes?
When I read a finished story to my writers group, I'm hoping they will catch problems with the technical aspects of the story. What I've discovered is that this rarely occurs. What happens instead is that the other writers start talking about the content of my story. What happens to that character? Hey, I've had that experience. What's synesthesia? (Or some other obscure topic I've brought up.) After witnessing this several times, I realized that the technical aspects of my storytelling were not jumping to the fore, screaming for attention. They are at least adequate in allowing the story to take center stage. (There's always room for improvement, though.)
This is how it should be with art or music or literature or any other creative endeavor. The technical aspects should remain invisible. The work should appear as though created by magic. Once you've hooked people, gotten them emotionally entangled, they may be curious about how you made it happen. Then you can explain the technique behind the work. If all people notice is the technique, then you haven't done your job as an artist. You haven't truly connected.
Erich Vieth posted a picture of a couple of modern art paintings and said that he "wasn't tempted to buy either of these paintings," which were going for $1,300 and $3,200. He indicated that he didn't "get" modern art, which is something I've heard a lot from non-artists. It's as if they feel they don't have the expertise to judge art based on how they react to it. I agreed with Erich, saying that I wouldn't buy the paintings either, and mentioned that our experience of art is subjective - trying to let him know that he could trust his own instincts when it came to paintings.
For opening my mouth, I was promptly challenged by a commenter with the screen name gatomjp to explain myself in detail and to show some of my own work. I felt that I was being placed in a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. If I didn't link up to my work, I'd be considered chicken. If I did, I'd be placing my art in line for potential potshots, which may or may not be based on the fact that I said something that was disagreeable to gatomjp. I don't have much up in the way of art on my blog, but I did link to my artist trading cards. Gatomjp also asked me to define why, precisely, I didn't like the two paintings presented in the blog.
My reply garnered this response from gatomjp: "Sorry, Mary that's not good enough." I was expected to give an essay on the technical aspects of why I didn't like the paintings. It wasn't good enough that I simply didn't care for them. Gatomjp also leapt to the assumption that I didn't like abstract art at all. He/she did indicate liking my artist trading cards, which was a surprise considering the tone of the rest of his/her comments. I was beginning to think that maybe gatomjp was the artist of the pictured paintings, or perhaps an artist who produced paintings like those pictured. I was stumped by the vehemence at which this person was going after me and thought that if I'd been at a party and someone jumped on me like this, I'd find a way to distance myself right quick. It's not that I mind be asked to give a more in-depth explanation for my opinions, but a little honey (i.e. nicely asking), rather than vinegar (i.e. making assumptions that aren't true) goes a long way in getting my cooperation.
I obliged anyway, giving a long, detailed comment about how a painting can be technically perfect, but if it doesn't speak to my emotions, it will have missed its mark. I used music as my alternate example, because non-musicians have no problem determining what sort of music they enjoy.
As I was thinking further about this issue, and waiting to see how gatomjp would respond to my long comment, I realized that there was more that I had to say about technical vs. emotional aspects in creative works, this time in the subject of literature. When I write short stories, I'm always concerned with the technical aspects of telling a story. How do I turn this phrase? What's my point of view? Am I using cliches? How's my spelling and grammar? Did I break that paragraph at the right time? Do I have any plot holes?
When I read a finished story to my writers group, I'm hoping they will catch problems with the technical aspects of the story. What I've discovered is that this rarely occurs. What happens instead is that the other writers start talking about the content of my story. What happens to that character? Hey, I've had that experience. What's synesthesia? (Or some other obscure topic I've brought up.) After witnessing this several times, I realized that the technical aspects of my storytelling were not jumping to the fore, screaming for attention. They are at least adequate in allowing the story to take center stage. (There's always room for improvement, though.)
This is how it should be with art or music or literature or any other creative endeavor. The technical aspects should remain invisible. The work should appear as though created by magic. Once you've hooked people, gotten them emotionally entangled, they may be curious about how you made it happen. Then you can explain the technique behind the work. If all people notice is the technique, then you haven't done your job as an artist. You haven't truly connected.
Labels: art, artist trading cards, creativity, dangerous intersection, erich vieth, music, pissing match, short story, technique, writing
Thursday, September 20, 2007
The Voice in My Head
There are days when I feel like a head case - like I'm living solely in a mental realm without any real connection to the physical. Days when I'm having long conversations with the voice in my head. (Notice I said 'voice,' not 'voices.' There's only one in there and it's all me, baby.) I tend to slip into the mental realm when I've been on the computer too much, or when I'm tired. I was in that space yesterday, and started there today. I become aware of the sensation after a while because I start feeling off balance. There's nothing like a physical, deal-with-me-now emergency to pull me back out. Buckets of rain water to remove from a basement. What fun.
While I was thinking of the interplay between the mental and physical realms, I realized that when I was a young adult, I thought I was a very mental person, like I could live in my head and be very happy there. I was mistaken. I've never been completely mental. And I've also very much enjoyed the physical all the way along. I took gymnastics as a kid, and still enjoy dancing. As an artist, I'm drawn to creating images of the human body. Bone studies are a kick. At one time I thought I might become a naturopath and I love studying anatomy, physiology, and medicine. When it comes to writing, my stories are peppered with human physicality. (My Greenville stories have quite a number of bathroom scenes.) I'm especially interested in how the body betrays humans. There's no escaping it, this vehicle of the mental. It's how our souls play with the world.
While I was thinking of the interplay between the mental and physical realms, I realized that when I was a young adult, I thought I was a very mental person, like I could live in my head and be very happy there. I was mistaken. I've never been completely mental. And I've also very much enjoyed the physical all the way along. I took gymnastics as a kid, and still enjoy dancing. As an artist, I'm drawn to creating images of the human body. Bone studies are a kick. At one time I thought I might become a naturopath and I love studying anatomy, physiology, and medicine. When it comes to writing, my stories are peppered with human physicality. (My Greenville stories have quite a number of bathroom scenes.) I'm especially interested in how the body betrays humans. There's no escaping it, this vehicle of the mental. It's how our souls play with the world.
Labels: art, body, greenville, human being, mental, minnesota, physical, rain, weather, writing
Friday, September 14, 2007
Atlanta Botanical Gardens
And now for a continuation of the Atlanta trip recap . . . .
On Friday last (a week ago), after some morning museum stuff, the Hubby and I caught the train - and then a MARTA bus - to the Atlanta Botanical Garden (ABG). The garden is on the north side of Piedmont Park. My brother suggested that we go to Piedmont Park, but when we saw there was a botanical garden, we were all over it. It was a hot, hot, hot, clear day. Good thing we had water. ABG is beautiful. There are pieces of artwork mixed in among the plants. We took lots of pictures, a few of which are above. The top picture is a sculpture tucked in along one of the walking paths. The second and third photos are of two glass pieces done by Dale Chihuly. Chihuly is a glass god. Really. If you aren't impressed by these two pieces, check out the other work on his website. His biography is worth a read, too. The green piece above is in the Conservatory near the rain forest area. When I walked in, I thought it was a real plant. Isn't it gorgeous with all the mist? That mist was a lifesaver, cooling us down after strolling through the sweaty heat outside. The fourth photo is of orchids from the orchid room. And the fifth photo? The green one is me.
After we were through at ABG, we walked around to Piedmont Park. Piedmont is HUGE! There's a pond in the park, and ball fields, and a place big enough to hold 50,000 people for a Dave Matthews Band concert. Well, if I couldn't go to the concert Saturday night, at least I could visit the park Friday and see where they were going to play. As we moved from the north part of the park to the south, we were trying to figure out where the concert would be. We ran into an area that was roped off, with signs that said that area was closed for an event. It didn't make sense. The area was rolling hills and trees - not good for a concert at all. As we continued down the road, we ran into Budweiser and ice semis and U-Haul trucks. We looked back toward the north, into an area partially hidden by trees, and saw the stage. Aha! We found the concert site. By this time, we were dragging and we'd reached the south entrance to the park, so we left and caught a bus back to town. This particular concert by DMB was a green concert. Because there is very little parking around Piedmont Park, concert-goers were encouraged to use MARTA to come to the concert. Very cool of the band to think of such things in order to reduce global warming. We used MARTA because we are cheap and lazy.
Labels: art, atlanta, atlanta botanical garden, dale chihuly, dave matthews band, husband, piedmont park
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
On a Lighter Note - ATCs
I couldn't very well bop off to Atlanta and leave you with that last depressing post. I've made several artist trading cards that are shown here for your viewing and meditative pleasure. The last one in the series is by Eldest Son. Ta ta for now.
Labels: art, artist trading cards, atlanta, son
Friday, August 24, 2007
Painter Laureate
The synapses of great minds fire together. Or maybe it's just because we've been married so long that we can read each other's minds - Marital ESP. After telling hubby about my post concerning artistic movements yesterday, he said that he'd been thinking about visual artists. This due to seeing an Andy Warhol poster in a restaurant. He got to wondering why there seem to be no visual artists since about the 1980s who've become household names. Artists that most people in the nation would recognize. There was Keith Haring, with his funky colorful cartoons of people, and Robert Mapplethorpe, most remembered for his crucifix in a jar of urine. Chuck Close, of giant photo-realism head fame, is still producing, but you don't hear much about him.
The trouble seems to be that visual artists (not including photographers) aren't making a splash of themselves, either promoting themselves in bold ways or in having others promote them in bold ways. The artists are out there; we're just not hearing about them. You know, writers have poet laureates to bring attention to writers on a state or national level. Why have we no painter laureates, or digital art laureates?
Can you think of any currently-producing visual artist that has become a household name?
The trouble seems to be that visual artists (not including photographers) aren't making a splash of themselves, either promoting themselves in bold ways or in having others promote them in bold ways. The artists are out there; we're just not hearing about them. You know, writers have poet laureates to bring attention to writers on a state or national level. Why have we no painter laureates, or digital art laureates?
Can you think of any currently-producing visual artist that has become a household name?
Labels: andy warhol, art, chuck close, husband, keith haring, marital esp, painter laureate, poet laureate, robert mapplethorpe, visual art
Thursday, August 23, 2007
What Happened to Art Movements?
I'm reading a thoughtful book on the history of development in America called "The Geography of Nowhere" by James Howard Kunstler. It was recommended by an online acquaintance. (Thanks, M.N.!) I'll blog more specifically about the book later, but one thing that came up while reading is that there used to be all of these movements in art and architecture. Of course I remember studying various artistic movements while in college - cubism, the Renaissance, pointillism, impressionism, art deco, neoclassicism, modernism, pop art, post-modernism. This got me to wondering . . . what artistic movements are we in the middle of today? Certainly we have a whole new computer-generated movement led by our technological wonders. Has anyone bothered to name whatever we're in now?
Labels: america, art, book, college, development, james howard kunstler, technology
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Graffiti Train
I was waiting for a train this morning and enjoying the well-executed graffiti on the boxcars. And I wondered . . . instead of fighting graffiti artists, why don't the companies that own railroad cars hire them to completely decorate a fleet of boxcars? With the traditional speed of graffiti artists, the boxcars would be done in no time, plus it'd be much harder for other graffiti artists to tag them. Also, the trains would be killer cool to watch.
Labels: art, artist, graffiti, railroad, train
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Nothing Special
I'm reading "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind" by Shunryu Suzuki a little at a time. You have to do that with Buddhist teachings or they don't stick. One of the sections is called "Nothing Special." Suzuki says,
"As long as we are alive, we are always doing something. But as long as you think, "I am doing this," or "I have to do this," or "I must attain something special," you are actually not doing anything. When you give up, when you no longer want something, then you do something. When there is no gaining idea in what you do, then you do something." (page 47)
Suzuki continues by saying that if you practice sitting zazen without any thought to reaching enlightenment, eventually you will reach enlightenment and it will be nothing special. "Before you attain it, it is something wonderful, but after you obtain it, it is nothing special." (page 47)
A light bulb went on in my head when I read this. Have you noticed that really talented people seem to shrug off their talent? They have reached the place of "nothing special." When they wanted to acquire that talent, it was as if they wanted to get hold of a precious gem - a most special thing, but once they got it, huh! Big deal! Do you do this with your own talents, those things you know how to do so well you could practically do them in your sleep? (I'm not just speaking of an artistic talent here, but of any sort of talent - cooking, accounting, shopping for bargains, taking care of animals, etc.) Do you think they are "nothing special"? That is good, on the one hand. It means you have done something. And it is good on the other hand (all that is is good in Buddhism) because there are others who admire your talent as something special. Eventually, if they decide to practice whatever that something special is, they will come to a point where it is nothing special.
"As long as we are alive, we are always doing something. But as long as you think, "I am doing this," or "I have to do this," or "I must attain something special," you are actually not doing anything. When you give up, when you no longer want something, then you do something. When there is no gaining idea in what you do, then you do something." (page 47)
Suzuki continues by saying that if you practice sitting zazen without any thought to reaching enlightenment, eventually you will reach enlightenment and it will be nothing special. "Before you attain it, it is something wonderful, but after you obtain it, it is nothing special." (page 47)
A light bulb went on in my head when I read this. Have you noticed that really talented people seem to shrug off their talent? They have reached the place of "nothing special." When they wanted to acquire that talent, it was as if they wanted to get hold of a precious gem - a most special thing, but once they got it, huh! Big deal! Do you do this with your own talents, those things you know how to do so well you could practically do them in your sleep? (I'm not just speaking of an artistic talent here, but of any sort of talent - cooking, accounting, shopping for bargains, taking care of animals, etc.) Do you think they are "nothing special"? That is good, on the one hand. It means you have done something. And it is good on the other hand (all that is is good in Buddhism) because there are others who admire your talent as something special. Eventually, if they decide to practice whatever that something special is, they will come to a point where it is nothing special.
Labels: art, book, buddhism, nothing special, reading, shunryu suzuki, talent, writing, zazen, zen
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Seed Savers
I have to apologize for yesterday's post. It lacks a certain clarity that I like to convey, almost as though my brain was sitting in a sock while I was writing it. That wasn't the case, really. It was more a matter of thought overwhelm - too many ideas coming out at once and, because I was blogging, not writing an essay, I didn't take the time to properly stitch them all together. Sorry about that.
The RUSS method of artistic resource conservation wasn't even on my mind when I first started blogging. It just popped out, but it's pretty good.
Now, to continue this discussion of getting an ancient hobby. I've been reading "The Sixth Extinction" by Terry Glavin and have finished the chapter "An Apple Is a Kind of Rose," wherein Glavin discusses how ten major corporations have control of around half of the world's seed reservoir. That means that ten corporations control most of our major agricultural crops. They own patents on them and will legally pursue anyone who attempts to create new plants from their inventions. They've modified plants so that when they grow, they won't produce seeds, or it takes the application of the company's herbicides in order to get the plants to grow. This might not be such an issue - companies owning certain plant hybrids - except that "wild" seeds and plants are going extinct at a rapid rate and wild seeds are humanity's hedge against problems with the hybrids.
Glavin mentions that there are a number of people who've been so disturbed by the situation that they've started seed banks. One of these is Kent Wheatly in Decorah, Iowa, with his Seed Savers Exchange, which he began in 1975. (Glavin doesn't mention Diane Ott Wheatly's role in co-founding Seed Savers Exchange.) Seed saving appears to be one of those little underground activities - in some countries it's illegal to do this - like complimentary medicine and organic farming (at least in my neck of the woods). For that reason, it would make a great hobby, one that might be the saving grace of humanity in the future. If each of us chose one or two heirloom varieties of plants to grow in our yards or in pots in our homes, voila! We'd not only have a new pastime, we'd be helping to preserve an essential part of nature. Now, if we could just change the zoning ordinances in our towns so that they'd be more tolerant of wild plantings, rather than perfectly manicured, mostly useless grass, then we'd be onto something.
Coincidence ALERT: Yesterday a writer friend and I were emailing back and forth and she mentioned that she was researching farming and agricultural practices for a novel she's writing. Lo, and behold, she said that she had found information on seed saving and heirloom varieties of plants. We had come across the same topic at about the same time through two different routes.
The RUSS method of artistic resource conservation wasn't even on my mind when I first started blogging. It just popped out, but it's pretty good.
Now, to continue this discussion of getting an ancient hobby. I've been reading "The Sixth Extinction" by Terry Glavin and have finished the chapter "An Apple Is a Kind of Rose," wherein Glavin discusses how ten major corporations have control of around half of the world's seed reservoir. That means that ten corporations control most of our major agricultural crops. They own patents on them and will legally pursue anyone who attempts to create new plants from their inventions. They've modified plants so that when they grow, they won't produce seeds, or it takes the application of the company's herbicides in order to get the plants to grow. This might not be such an issue - companies owning certain plant hybrids - except that "wild" seeds and plants are going extinct at a rapid rate and wild seeds are humanity's hedge against problems with the hybrids.
Glavin mentions that there are a number of people who've been so disturbed by the situation that they've started seed banks. One of these is Kent Wheatly in Decorah, Iowa, with his Seed Savers Exchange, which he began in 1975. (Glavin doesn't mention Diane Ott Wheatly's role in co-founding Seed Savers Exchange.) Seed saving appears to be one of those little underground activities - in some countries it's illegal to do this - like complimentary medicine and organic farming (at least in my neck of the woods). For that reason, it would make a great hobby, one that might be the saving grace of humanity in the future. If each of us chose one or two heirloom varieties of plants to grow in our yards or in pots in our homes, voila! We'd not only have a new pastime, we'd be helping to preserve an essential part of nature. Now, if we could just change the zoning ordinances in our towns so that they'd be more tolerant of wild plantings, rather than perfectly manicured, mostly useless grass, then we'd be onto something.
Coincidence ALERT: Yesterday a writer friend and I were emailing back and forth and she mentioned that she was researching farming and agricultural practices for a novel she's writing. Lo, and behold, she said that she had found information on seed saving and heirloom varieties of plants. We had come across the same topic at about the same time through two different routes.
Labels: agriculture, art, extinction, farming, friend, hobbies, seed savers, seeds, terry glavin, writing
Sunday, June 17, 2007
It's Not the Heat . . .
I was on StumbleUpon and found a website for a woman who is putting together a book based on fan experiences of Dave Matthews Band. The woman, Lynda from New York, has created some very fine art inspired by the band's music. Check it out here. There's a link to her MySpace page on her website for more personal info about the artist.
As a writer and artist, the idea of inspiration is an interesting one to me. What is it about a particular band's music, or a particular writer's essay or book, or a particular artist's painting, that drives us to create something new? How does that inspiration turn and twist through the fibers of our own experience and emotions to convolute into something new, something that may, in turn, be inspirational for someone else?
In thinking about this, it would be fascinating to take an inspirational work and put together a schematic of all the additional works the original has spawned. Take something like Poe's "The Raven" and chart out its influence. Hmmm. Has this ever been done before? The genealogy of a work of art?
In other news, it's miserable hot again. No wait! It's not the heat, it's the humidity. Windy as all get out, too. The silvery backs of leaves are showing themselves, which means we're in for rain. It can come none too soon. I'm roasting.
As a writer and artist, the idea of inspiration is an interesting one to me. What is it about a particular band's music, or a particular writer's essay or book, or a particular artist's painting, that drives us to create something new? How does that inspiration turn and twist through the fibers of our own experience and emotions to convolute into something new, something that may, in turn, be inspirational for someone else?
In thinking about this, it would be fascinating to take an inspirational work and put together a schematic of all the additional works the original has spawned. Take something like Poe's "The Raven" and chart out its influence. Hmmm. Has this ever been done before? The genealogy of a work of art?
In other news, it's miserable hot again. No wait! It's not the heat, it's the humidity. Windy as all get out, too. The silvery backs of leaves are showing themselves, which means we're in for rain. It can come none too soon. I'm roasting.
Labels: art, books, dave matthews band, dmb, edgar allan poe, fans, genealogy of creative work, inspiration, minnesota, music, rain, someone working on dmb book, stumbleupon, the raven, weather
Monday, June 11, 2007
The Band IS a Startup
I read a blog post the other day by Darren Herman. It's called "The Startup as a Band" and Darren uses the post to draw analogies between a business startup and the Dave Matthews Band. He assigns each of the members of DMB to typical board roles of a startup, i.e. Dave is CEO/President, Carter is Sales Guru, Stefan is Technology Guru, Boyd is Marketing Guru, and LeRoi is Financial Wizard. Been mulling this over, being a bit bothered by it in an odd sort of way - people can make whatever analogies they like; it's no skin off my nose - but here's my revelation - A band is already a business, so while each band member can be assigned particular business "roles," in actuality there is no analogy to be made because band members are already serving as the board of directors for their organizations.
Being an artist and writer, I know how often people expect creative people (including musicians) to give away their talents - to become starving artists. So many bands struggle for beer money we forget that those who make it big, like DMB, are fronting massive organizations comprised of managers, roadies, producers, sound technicians, set designers, costume and makeup people, artists, photographers, caterers, marketers, bus drivers, pilots, etc. etc. Maybe I'm splitting hairs here, but my dictionary says that an analogy is "a resemblance in some particulars between things otherwise unlike." A band IS a startup, thus the comparison is between apples and apples, thus no analogy.
It's difficult to be this crass about bands, especially those whose music we personally connect to, but there it is. The arts are big business. Minnesota Citizens for the Arts has released two studies about the economic impact of the arts in Minnesota. One, called "Artists Count!", polled individual artists and found that their economic impact as far as spending goes is $295 million. The other study, "The Arts: A Driving Force in Minnesota's Economy," shows that nonprofit arts and cultural organizations contribute $838.5 million to the state's economy and employ 22,000 people. Minnesota tends to be #3 (after New York and California) on arts spending, a haven of sorts for the creatively gifted. We, musicians, writers, artists, actors, etc., have a lot to offer society, and not just in the peace, love, beauty, quality of life categories. We're talking cold hard cash, baby. And DMB has leveraged it well as leaders of their corporation.
Being an artist and writer, I know how often people expect creative people (including musicians) to give away their talents - to become starving artists. So many bands struggle for beer money we forget that those who make it big, like DMB, are fronting massive organizations comprised of managers, roadies, producers, sound technicians, set designers, costume and makeup people, artists, photographers, caterers, marketers, bus drivers, pilots, etc. etc. Maybe I'm splitting hairs here, but my dictionary says that an analogy is "a resemblance in some particulars between things otherwise unlike." A band IS a startup, thus the comparison is between apples and apples, thus no analogy.
It's difficult to be this crass about bands, especially those whose music we personally connect to, but there it is. The arts are big business. Minnesota Citizens for the Arts has released two studies about the economic impact of the arts in Minnesota. One, called "Artists Count!", polled individual artists and found that their economic impact as far as spending goes is $295 million. The other study, "The Arts: A Driving Force in Minnesota's Economy," shows that nonprofit arts and cultural organizations contribute $838.5 million to the state's economy and employ 22,000 people. Minnesota tends to be #3 (after New York and California) on arts spending, a haven of sorts for the creatively gifted. We, musicians, writers, artists, actors, etc., have a lot to offer society, and not just in the peace, love, beauty, quality of life categories. We're talking cold hard cash, baby. And DMB has leveraged it well as leaders of their corporation.
Labels: analogy, art, blog, business, darren herman, dave matthews band, dmb, economy, minnesota citizens for the arts, musician
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Album Art & Lyrics Cards
Until a solution is presented, I'm going keep coming back to this. Now that music is going digital, what's going to happen to album art and printed lyrics? We're so quick to jump ship toward something new that we forget to look for sharks in the water. We're so quick to embrace the newest in technology that we forget to examine what we might be giving up. When it comes to album art, some think, "Good riddance to bad rubbish. No tears here if there is no album art. " On MPR's The Current music blog, Hans Eisenbeis posted "Album art! Does it matter anymore?" The title says it all, but there are several wonky album covers pictured in the post. If we want to have a discussion about album art, why don't we pick the cream of the crop, rather that the crap? I, of course, think that album art is important. I am an artist and album art is a great way to bring fine art to the masses. Album art gives fans a physical representation of musicians and bands. It allows us to connect with musicians along another dimension. Album art helps to brand musicians. It is also one avenue of employment for visual artists. If pictures of the musician or band members are included, we get to know what people look like. Another important part of album art is the printed lyrics. How often have we misinterpreted a song because the singer or our hearing wasn't as clear as desired?
I asked my daughter, who did not grow up with 12-inch albums, if she liked CD booklets with their album art. She answered in the affirmative. She especially liked being able to read the lyrics. Daughter has an iPod, and she said, "Mom, the album art comes with the downloads." I asked her to show me this album art. There it was, in postage stamp form on her iPod screen. If that's what album art has come to, why bother?
Of course, with music becoming available solely through the digital realm, album art can't remain the way it has. For one, most people download singles, rather than entire albums. We're not going to want an entire CD booklet for one song. You can find lyrics for most any song online, but I, for one, don't want to be intravenously connected to a computer 24/7. I listen to music away from the computer and want to be able to have quick access to those lyrics.
I've been pondering this problem of dying album art & lack of lyrics for a while and have a possible solution: Lyrics Cards. For each song a band creates, there could be a card produced that has lyrics on one side & art on the other. Think of playing cards, no . . . that's not quite right . . . think of Tarot cards. Lyrics cards would have to be bigger than playing cards so the lyrics would fit. I suggest cards about the size of current CD booklets, if only because most of us have CD holders we could fit them into. They'd also be big enough to show some decent artwork and allow the lyrics to be seen without a magnifying glass. I imagine Lyrics Cards to be like trading cards. We can mix-and-match with friends. We can arrange our own playlists with them. When someone downloads a song, if they desire, they could have a Lyrics Card mailed to them. Bands could use them as promotional items.
So, there you have it. My crazy idea for saving album art: Lyrics Cards. Will it work? I have no idea. Maybe I'm just an old codger at the tender age of 39. Maybe I'm not with it and the majority of people want to see album art and printed lyrics leave in a whimpering fizzle. I, however, am not ready to give up without a fight.
I asked my daughter, who did not grow up with 12-inch albums, if she liked CD booklets with their album art. She answered in the affirmative. She especially liked being able to read the lyrics. Daughter has an iPod, and she said, "Mom, the album art comes with the downloads." I asked her to show me this album art. There it was, in postage stamp form on her iPod screen. If that's what album art has come to, why bother?
Of course, with music becoming available solely through the digital realm, album art can't remain the way it has. For one, most people download singles, rather than entire albums. We're not going to want an entire CD booklet for one song. You can find lyrics for most any song online, but I, for one, don't want to be intravenously connected to a computer 24/7. I listen to music away from the computer and want to be able to have quick access to those lyrics.
I've been pondering this problem of dying album art & lack of lyrics for a while and have a possible solution: Lyrics Cards. For each song a band creates, there could be a card produced that has lyrics on one side & art on the other. Think of playing cards, no . . . that's not quite right . . . think of Tarot cards. Lyrics cards would have to be bigger than playing cards so the lyrics would fit. I suggest cards about the size of current CD booklets, if only because most of us have CD holders we could fit them into. They'd also be big enough to show some decent artwork and allow the lyrics to be seen without a magnifying glass. I imagine Lyrics Cards to be like trading cards. We can mix-and-match with friends. We can arrange our own playlists with them. When someone downloads a song, if they desire, they could have a Lyrics Card mailed to them. Bands could use them as promotional items.
So, there you have it. My crazy idea for saving album art: Lyrics Cards. Will it work? I have no idea. Maybe I'm just an old codger at the tender age of 39. Maybe I'm not with it and the majority of people want to see album art and printed lyrics leave in a whimpering fizzle. I, however, am not ready to give up without a fight.
Labels: album art, art, daughter, lyrics, lyrics cards, mpr, music, tarot cards, technology
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Cleaning the Bedroom
My husband has been sneezing a lot when he wakes up, so I decided to do a thorough cleaning of the bedroom today. Not just a sweep around the major pieces of furniture, but a complete dusting of the furniture, plus moving it to vacuum underneath it. In the end, we reorganized some things, moving a piece of furniture out & another one in. The massive overhaul. It took most of the day.
When I'm cleaning, I go into exactly the same zone as when I'm writing or creating art. Is there a cleaning muse out there, just waiting for us to get to work? Actually, it's not so much the cleaning that hooks me as it is the reorganization of things. What goes here, what goes there, move it, move it, move it. Rearranging my books is my favorite reorganization task. Fruit basket upset, followed by the resulting tidiness is just the ticket sometimes. I'm sure a feng shui expert would agree.
When I'm cleaning, I go into exactly the same zone as when I'm writing or creating art. Is there a cleaning muse out there, just waiting for us to get to work? Actually, it's not so much the cleaning that hooks me as it is the reorganization of things. What goes here, what goes there, move it, move it, move it. Rearranging my books is my favorite reorganization task. Fruit basket upset, followed by the resulting tidiness is just the ticket sometimes. I'm sure a feng shui expert would agree.
Labels: art, bedroom, books, cleaning, feng shui, husband, museum, reorganizing, writing
Friday, December 22, 2006
FtTP - Kari Byron + Damien Hirst
I talked to my brother last night and asked him if he had any Frankensteining the Talent Pool suggestions. He came up with several, which I will dole out to you kind readers. Here's the first he thought of:
Kari Byron, the cute red-head on MythBusters, is a sculptor. My brother would like to see her team up with the sculptor Damien Hirst. Kari has some really interesting stuff, very well done. Damien is known for suspending dead animals in transparent boxes in some substance. His best-known work is of a tiger shark. According to Wikipedia, his work has the second highest value of any living artist. I don't know. I think I'd much prefer to buy something of Kari's.
Kari Byron, the cute red-head on MythBusters, is a sculptor. My brother would like to see her team up with the sculptor Damien Hirst. Kari has some really interesting stuff, very well done. Damien is known for suspending dead animals in transparent boxes in some substance. His best-known work is of a tiger shark. According to Wikipedia, his work has the second highest value of any living artist. I don't know. I think I'd much prefer to buy something of Kari's.
Labels: art, brother, damien hirst, frankensteining the talent pool, FtTP, kari byron, mythbusters, sculptor, shark
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Recycled Fabric
As a fabric artist, I have often wondered what to do with those little scraps of fabric left over from a sewing project. Too small to use, too large to make me feel good about throwing them away. While we donate clothing that's still usable to the Epilepsy Foundation, I never know what to do about clothing that is ripped or has holes. Into the garbage it generally goes. Fabric recycling seems to be the answer for these fabric bits and ragged clothes, but I have yet to find a place that takes anything but the good stuff. The good news is that there IS fabric recycling for the good stuff, but it comes at a price for Africans. Did you do a double-take at that last word? Yes, our clothing recycling doesn't exactly leave a rosy picture for Africans, which I discovered in an article posted on Reddit. It's an ABC News report on what really happens to clothing Americans donate to charity. It still doesn't answer the question about what to do with the crappy stuff. (Sigh . . . .)
Labels: africa, art, charity, clothing, epilepsy foundation, fabric, garbage, recycling, reddit
Sunday, December 10, 2006
The Rescue Artist
I found a book at the library the other day that I dove right into after finishing American Gods. It's called The Rescue Artist by Edward Dolnick and is the story about how thieves stole Edvard Munch's painting The Scream from the National Gallery in Oslo, Norway, and the people who worked to recover it. Imagine, me, interested in a book about art and museums. Who would've guessed?
I'm about half-way through. The book reads easily and moves quickly. There's a lot of good description, especially psychological description, of the main investigator in the case, Charley Hill of Scotland Yard. At one point, Charley has to study all he can about Munch's work, so that he can convince those in the art underworld that he knows what he's talking about if he gets a chance to purchase the painting. He also has to study what is known about The Scream itself so that he can identify it properly once he finds it.
One of the interesting things about the painting was the inspiration for it. Munch was walking with friends in Norway and suddenly saw this brilliant red sunset, which he felt was screaming. The painting was created in 1883 and scholars are trying to figure out whether Munch had witnessed the after effects of the eruption of the volcano on Krakatoa, which occurred on August 27, 1883. When the volcano blew and took the island with it, the ash went into the atmosphere and could be seen around the world during the next several months in the form of unusual sunsets. Munch physically felt a scream when he saw the sunset that inspired the painting. He also experienced periods of madness in his life, which leads me to wonder if he was a synesthete. Synesthetes have brains that mix the senses, hearing color, tasting sound & etc. Surely, if an island blows up, the shock wave would be like a scream and Edvard was sensitive enough to pick it up.
I'm about half-way through. The book reads easily and moves quickly. There's a lot of good description, especially psychological description, of the main investigator in the case, Charley Hill of Scotland Yard. At one point, Charley has to study all he can about Munch's work, so that he can convince those in the art underworld that he knows what he's talking about if he gets a chance to purchase the painting. He also has to study what is known about The Scream itself so that he can identify it properly once he finds it.
One of the interesting things about the painting was the inspiration for it. Munch was walking with friends in Norway and suddenly saw this brilliant red sunset, which he felt was screaming. The painting was created in 1883 and scholars are trying to figure out whether Munch had witnessed the after effects of the eruption of the volcano on Krakatoa, which occurred on August 27, 1883. When the volcano blew and took the island with it, the ash went into the atmosphere and could be seen around the world during the next several months in the form of unusual sunsets. Munch physically felt a scream when he saw the sunset that inspired the painting. He also experienced periods of madness in his life, which leads me to wonder if he was a synesthete. Synesthetes have brains that mix the senses, hearing color, tasting sound & etc. Surely, if an island blows up, the shock wave would be like a scream and Edvard was sensitive enough to pick it up.
Labels: american gods, art, crime, edvard munch, krakatoa, museum, norway, reading, rescue artist, scream, synesthesia
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Comparisons
I've got it! When I first posted about The Killers, I mentioned that they reminded me of some other band. Well, it's not ONE other band they remind me of, more like a cross between a couple of bands - Echo & the Bunnymen and The Cure. Somewhere on Hot Fuss, during some little phrase, Brandon Flowers also sounds like Freddy Mercury. You probably don't think so, and that's okay. In fact, you'll probably think that The Killers sound like someone else altogether.
Why is comparison of the unknown to something known such a human trait? I'm sure a scientist or psychologist could give me a good answer to this. Like our fear of the unknown, like our desire to figure things out & we have to do the comparison in order to understand new things. Blah, blah, blah.
The one place where comparisons drive me batty is when they are used to critique a creative artist. "That painting of a nude by Gesso McPainterly has the verve of a VanGogh with a splash of Renoir and a twist of O'Keefe." This practice of comparison during critique has become so commonplace that it's starting to smack of lazy writing. Maybe that's because the comparisons are made within the same field, i.e. new musicians are compared to older musicians, new writers are compared to older writers, etc. What if critics started comparing musicians to writers or sculptors or movie directors? What if they started comparing songs to books or paintings? You might end up with something like this: "The new album of Band X has overtones of a Coen brothers' movie, with the raw quirkiness of Christopher Moore's book "Coyote Blue" and the scattered notes of an Alexander Calder mobile."
People would have to think about comparisons like these, but they'd sure make the critiques more interesting.
Why is comparison of the unknown to something known such a human trait? I'm sure a scientist or psychologist could give me a good answer to this. Like our fear of the unknown, like our desire to figure things out & we have to do the comparison in order to understand new things. Blah, blah, blah.
The one place where comparisons drive me batty is when they are used to critique a creative artist. "That painting of a nude by Gesso McPainterly has the verve of a VanGogh with a splash of Renoir and a twist of O'Keefe." This practice of comparison during critique has become so commonplace that it's starting to smack of lazy writing. Maybe that's because the comparisons are made within the same field, i.e. new musicians are compared to older musicians, new writers are compared to older writers, etc. What if critics started comparing musicians to writers or sculptors or movie directors? What if they started comparing songs to books or paintings? You might end up with something like this: "The new album of Band X has overtones of a Coen brothers' movie, with the raw quirkiness of Christopher Moore's book "Coyote Blue" and the scattered notes of an Alexander Calder mobile."
People would have to think about comparisons like these, but they'd sure make the critiques more interesting.
Labels: art, brandon flowers, christopher moore, coen brothers, comparison, creativity, killers, music, writing
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Relevance Over Time
I'm very much enjoying The Killers' CD Hot Fuss that I mentioned a couple of days ago. Listening to it obsessively, I am. I've mentioned that I'm usually late to finding music that gains popularity among the masses. I'm not one of the early hordes that makes something popular in the first place. But, so what? Isn't it in the best interests of creative artists to have audiences that discover them over time? Sure, it's got to be lovely to have the big horde find you and love you into financial security and fame, but I wouldn't want to lose relevance over time. Whether in music, or art, or literature, or whatever creative endeavor, the way to immortality is to have your stuff speak to people long after you've made it.
Labels: art, creativity, fame, immortality, killers, money, music, security, writing
