painting

Striving to be Good

September 10, 2008 By heather 2 Comments

On The Writer’s View 2 (a yahoo group for writers where we discuss craft, market, and career), Cecil Murphey asked:

"’I want to be an excellent writer,’ he said.
‘What qualities make a writer excellent? How do I develop as a writer?’

Before you respond, the resident curmudgeon believes that writers fit into one
of three categories. [He doesn't mind if you disagree with him.]

1. The Mechanical Writers. They know and practice the rules but their writing is
dull and lifeless. They’re like the pianists who hit the right notes, but it’s
not good music.

2. The Okay Writers. They write; they sell. But there’s something lacking. It’s
not bad writing. I like to say it this way: Their writing is as good as 50 other
writers, but it’s not better than the 50.

3. The Gifted Writers. They combine the spiritual gift with hard work and
produce quality. They may not be top sellers; they may publish little. But their
goal is quality, not quantity.

WHAT MAKES AN EXCELLENT WRITER?
Can average/mediocre writers become excellent writers?
How much of being a writer is a gift or talent and how much is the result of
hard work?"

I expanded in my answer to what makes a good artist, or what makes good art and what makes bad art (what are we striving toward and from what are we moving away). Here’s what I said:

"Because beauty is found in who God is as Trinity and what He does as
Creator, Redeemer, and Re-Creator, I believe there are objective
aspects to beauty. As I strive to develop, there are dangers that
threaten good art:
1. Art that is sentimental–it refuses to delve
into the depths of pain and ugliness or it refuses to emotionally move
beyond that (nihilism) (balance of the cross and resurrection)
2.
Art that is super-saturated in culture and doesn’t move beyond that
(following trends rather than working from the vision of the earth’s
resurrection)
3. Art that is manipulative
4. Art that is self-centered (merely wanted to express myself)
5. Art that refuses to explore (stubbornly clings to tradition)
6. Art that is escapist or a form of distraction (escape into feelings,
entertainment–now I have that song stuck in my head, "Feelings, nothing more than feelings…")
7. Art that is subjected to the utilitarian
8. Art that is mellodramatic
9. Art that is elitist–’Intelligence does not eliminate. It invites’ (Haven Kimmel).
Good
writing or storytelling, then, evokes people to think about things in a
fresh way, balances simplicity and feasting, is energetic, exposes the
depths, transforms, improvises, is based on the beauty of God and God’s
work and moves toward the vision given us of the future resurrection."

How would you answer the question?

Filed Under: aesthetics, art, bad art, film, good art, music, painting, photography, sculpting, storytelling, TWV2, writing

Discussion: Faith and Art

August 27, 2008 By heather 4 Comments

My Name Is Asher Lev by Chaim Potok is a book I could read over and over and over again. There are so many levels. I can read it as a Christian in regards to living out my faith. I can read it as an artist in regards to working out my art and faith.

It’s about a Hasidic Jew who has the gift of great art. I think I was originally drawn to the book because my favorite artist is Chagall (the book does mention Chagall, but it’s not about Chagall). But I stay with it and reread it because of its philosophy on art and faith. Asher (the Hasidic artist) struggles with the areas where his faith (or more specifically, his community of faith) clashes with his art.

I’m sure no other artist has struggled with that, no matter what you believe.

Anyway, because of this, I started a discussion using quotes I pulled from the book. You don’t have to have read the book to participate in the discussion, and there are no spoilers. I’m begging you, though, to stop over because I want to work out these issues of faith and art with this community.

Filed Under: art, belief, Chaim Potok, Christianity and culture, creating, faith, My Name Is Asher Lev, painting, theology, writing

Impressions at a museum

August 27, 2007 By heather Leave a Comment

I don’t have much art training. I have one art appreciation class I took in college (and the only thing I remember from that is a lecture on corsets complete with pictures of a woman’s rearranged innards from said corset and a comparison with Chinese footwear), and the childhood field trips. Since then, I have attempted to make up for it. I go to exhibits and museums and make such studious comments as, "Ooh, pretty" and "What’s this supposed to be?" I have favorites: Picasso, Rembrandt, and Chagall, but, come on, so prosaic. Who wouldn’t list those as favorites? I like Jasper Johns too, but only after a friend explained him to me.

My husband and I went to the Dallas Museum of Art a week ago. We go every so often. In fact, the day he proposed to me was after spending the day at the museum (collective "awww"). This time, I pulled out my cell phone and took pics for you guys. Two pieces in particular that I was going to make a brilliant observation about. Here’s one:

And I was going to say, look at that forlorn expression, as if the love of her life had just walked out decorum dictates that she couldn’t yell after him and stop him because a proper later doesn’t do such things. I think there’s a story behind this. The painter knew this but daren’t ask, or maybe he did but the proper lady wouldn’t divulge. Even the dog is sad (and beautiful).

But now I can’t say any of that because the picture is so fuzzy. Stupid camera phone.

Or the next:

Modern art. Chromo something or other. Manipulative photography (you know how that photography can be…). It’s of a cathedral (I’m sure immediately obvious to you). Half the cathedral is translucent, which I was going to make some astute (I’m into the adjectives today–I love em and I’m indulging) remark about how that could be a commentary on the state of the cathedral, that either it could mean that the cathedral looks imposing but has no substance or that (my preference) the cathedral looks big and impressive but is authentic, lets its people see right through it. But I can’t say any of that either.

And then I was going to tell you about the frescos excivated from the ruins in Stabiano from Mt. Vesuvius. Well, here I have a real picture because I pilfered it from the web:

Did you know that more than Pompeii was wrecked by the volcano? I didn’t. There was also Stabiano and Herculean (or something to that effect–after too much time looking for the above pics on the web, without precise titles, mind you, I’m too lazy to wiki it). This exhibit showed Stabiano’s ruins. Beautiful frescos in amazing condition. Floor tiles. Fountains. The housing of the rich and famous. Seriously rich. They had their summer palaces in Stabiano – summer palaces of 150,000 – 190,000 sq. ft. You read that correctly.

Theses frescos made wallpapering look like the linings of the dump. And plain white paint? Fehgedabowdiht.

The amazing thing about the exhibit? They’d have half a human from a fresco and go on and on about who this depicted from which tragedy because you see how his arm is behind his back (only the top half of the arm is shown, but yeah, I guess now that you mention it, the angle does look like that) and he has a crown of some unknown materal (they knew, I don’t) on his head? That means it’s this character from this play where he was taken hostage and saved by his sister.

Oh, right. I got that.

Smart people.

Could you imagine having frescos? (Is it frescoes?) The patience in creating masterpieces on your every wall? I threw fits after painting my bathroom walls. I could now go on to comment on what that says on our society, but I’ve said too much already.

Filed Under: art, painting