[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original Posting 20 November 2008

If I'm not sure if I can get this across in text. But it should be fun trying.

The Japanese public television sometimes has some very interesting pieces. This particular one started with a little introduction to the art done by a woman. These are fairly large prints -- the early ones in simple black and white, apparently large woodblock prints. Some of her later work involves additional colors -- one that caught my eye had some brown in fairly large areas, along with at least two shades of green providing leaves for a tree. Almost all of the work includes strong architectural settings.

Then they ran through a little bit of her biography. If I understood correctly, she was born in Taiwan to Japanese parents. Then she lived in Japan for a while, and also had spent some time living in America.

And in the part of the show that really caught my attention, she was visiting Taiwan. A middle-aged woman, well-dressed, with a camera. She did seem to have colorful scarves as part of her outfit. But mostly she seemed almost cool, looking through her glasses at the buildings and other points of interest in Taiwan, stopping to take a picture of a plaza, or getting up on a balcony to take pictures of roofs with colorful dragons at their edges. No smile, seemingly a plastic observer.

Then she met an old friend in a plaza. He invited her to his studio. In this large open space, he had several works under way around the edges. She looked at one or two, without much evident interest. Then he laughed and got out a plywood sheet -- 4 x 8? He laid it on the floor, red side up, and sat down on the floor with it. He got out a small gouge and started carving. Suddenly she was on her knees, smiling, eyes intense, fingers almost twitching, clearly inspired. He took a piece of chalk and scribbled on one part of the work in progress, then grabbed a magic marker and scribbled over that -- and started gouging pieces of that section out. She was watching intently.

That moment of transformation -- when the cool observer suddenly became the involved artist -- was the part of the show that I certainly enjoyed.

They also got out his unfinished piece -- a scroll about a meter wide, and I'm not sure how long, that he's apparently been adding things to for 20 years. A chinese clown face on a baby torso, a looming architectural arch, and other bits and pieces. I gather he has no particular intention of trying to finish it or tie it together into some sort of a finished piece, but the pastiche or hodgepodge felt like there is an underlying unity, a theme of growth and excitement despite that. Almost as if history -- as experienced by an individual person -- was captured on that scroll.

But that's another story.

Maybe the key to this piece is in the kind of art that she does. After all, the sheet of wood with its red coating, carved and chipped and cut, is somewhat cool and reserved. Then coat it with a little ink or paint, and press it into the paper -- and when you lift it up, there's a fresh new picture, shining, unique, just created in that moment of contact between the stiff wood and the soft paper. That's almost the feeling I got, watching the well-dressed photographer suddenly transform into an intense presence at the side of the artist carving on his board.

Fun!
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original posting 7 August 2008

I'm working on a course in creativity right now, and of course I've been looking at various books and other materials that I've collected over the years. Fair warning -- you are likely to be hearing bits and pieces as I mutter over the stuff. Prepare to duck now?

Among them is a Creative Whack Pack (r) by Roger von Oech. It's 64 cards each of which has has a little description -- a creativity strategy if you will. He identifies four roles, with 16 cards in each. The roles are interesting.

The Explorer discovers resources to help create new ideas. The Artist transforms resources into new ideas. The Judge evaluates ideas, making decisions about the idea. And the Warrior kicks things from ideas into action. Between them, they cover four major parts of the creativity process. Collecting knowledge and stimulation, generating ideas, picking and choosing, and then taking the steps to make the idea concrete and real.

Just as a first step in playing with this, you might consider how you tackle each of these roles. Since we are talking about writing, when you want to write a new story, where do you go to get your ideas? Do you look at the news, read old books, or what do you do to get the information for your ideas? And how do you transform those into pile of new ideas? What do you look for to pick out the one that you're actually going to work on? And what makes you sit down and turn it into a real story? You may want to have more than one strategy in your kit for each of these.

Just for examples, here are the first in each of the four roles in the Creative Whack Pack (r).

1. Give Yourself a Whack on the Side of the Head

The more often you do something in the same way, the more difficult it is to think about doing it in any other way. Break out of this "prison of familiarity" by disrupting your habitual thought patterns. Write a love poem in the middle of the night. Eat ice cream for breakfast. Wear red sox. Visit a junkyard. Work the weekend. Take the slow way home. Sleep on the other side of the bed. Such jolts to your routines will lead to new ideas.

How can you whack your thinking?

17. Think like a Kid

A high school teacher drew a dot on the blackboard and asked the class what it was. "A chalk dot on the blackboard," was the only response. "I'm surprised at you," the teacher said. "I did this exercise with a group of kindergartners and they thought of fifty different things it could be: a squashed bug, an owl's eye, a cow's head. They had their imaginations in high gear." As Picasso put it, "Every child is an artist. The challenge is to remain an artist that you grow up."

What would a six year old see if he were looking at your project?

33. See the Positive


"The human mind," notes scientist W. I. Beveridge," likes a strange idea as little as the body likes a strange protein and resists it with a similar energy." When you judge new ideas, focus initially on their positive and interesting features. This will counteract a natural negative bias, and help you to develop more ideas.

What's positive about the idea?

49. Take a Whack at It

You can't hit a home run unless you step up to the plate. You can't catch fish unless you put your line into the water. You can't make your idea a reality unless you take a whack at it. If you want to be a singer, go sing. Sing in the shower. Sing for your friends. Join the choir. Audition for a musical. Start now. As adman Carl Ally put it, "Either you let your life slip by by not doing the things you want to do, or you get up and do them."

How can you take a whack at your idea?

How can you shake yourself up? What would a six year old see? What's good about the idea? And how can you get started right now?

Right, write!

When we write, we get to rub our ideas together and see what catches fire.
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
aka Being a better artist in one easy step

Interesting bit on one of the shows here in Japan recently. There's an artist who apparently is also an academic researcher who has come up with a new way to help people learn to draw. First he has them draw from a life-size picture of a model. The results are . . . the normal mix of bad proportions and such. Then he does one thing, and has them draw the model again. Their second picture is almost always a significantly improved rendition -- and apparently the effects carry over somewhat.

What does he do? Very simple - he turns the picture upside down.

His explanation is that we are all conditioned to see the model through our preconceptions. For example, we know that a mouth is a certain shape, no matter what our eyes tell us. Similarly for the clothes (he pointed out that the original drawings almost always have clothes that aren't really what the model is wearing). And so forth. The simple act of turning the picture upside down forces us to really look at what's in front of us, rather then depending on our preconceptions and expectations. And by looking, we become better artists.

Now how can we learn to turn our characters, plots, and other bits and pieces of writing upside down?

Look, listen, experience everything afresh -- and write about it!
tink
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original posting: Fri, 11 Feb 1994 12:45:25 JST

(I'm sorry - long and rambling, without all the connections it should have. Put together parts from several files I've started, and haven't boiled down to the pith yet... may be of interest, though... and there's a sort of story at the end if anyone wades that far...)

Hi, apathetic. Interesting tag - you ever consider what the opposite of the pathetic fallacy is? I mean, having the surroundings reflect emotions is a no-no, right? but what's the apathetic fallacy? NOT having the surroundings reflect the emotions? or is it not having the emotions reflect the surroundings? or maybe simply ignoring the subtle interplay of observed surroundings and internal stresses? or perhaps just ignoring the other people around, their influences and interactions with that life claimed as solely one's own, untouched by humanity's dirt and grime, unwashed with the tears one refuses to heed... (whoops - let the fingers get carried away, and they'll take you places you didn't expect... sorry about the slips... Ayn Rand would be very upset with me:-)

oh, well - on to the questions. I know everyone else has taken a whack at them (GREAT STUFF!), but I wanta spend my yen while I can, okay?

so...
- little something, in my opinion, is ART.
backtrack - ART? art? something like the concepts of beauty, art, etc. that I spent semesters in philosophy trying to pin down...?

judging from the experience - you may find a negative definition more helpful than a positive one (mostly because the positive ones are so painfully few and far apart). There are books and papers and stuff on aesthetics - philosophically very shaky ground...

Anyway - could you explain a little what you mean by ART? about the only explanation you give is "a special flair" - which seems subjective and hard to deal with. Any more particulars?
- It seems that most of the people on this board would consider themselves
- writers. Does anyone on this board consider themself an Artist? Does
- anyone on this board professes to have an understanding of what Art is?
certainly. as a matter of fact, I have several understandings of what art is. I even have an understanding of what Art, Beauty, and the Ideal is. I also have a navel. of course, my various understandings may not help you much...

some hints, though...

First, go back and review Randy's posting on TECH: Re: help and some general talk about criticism.

If any of you skipped Randy's posting on 3 Feb - shame on you! go back and read it... I'll wait (randy, I may add that one to the list of good things in the FAQ - or maybe in the one mji is putting together about being blocked - okay?)

I'm waiting...

Good. I'm going to pull some pieces out, but you really owe it to yourself as a writer (even as an Artist!) to read Randy's original posting. BE AWARE THAT I HAVE ONLY CLIPPED SECTIONS - go read the original. (with apologies to lots of folks - especially those who don't approve of humor gilding the lily...:-)
- First, a disclaimer. Revision is the soul of writing. It may also
- be the sole of writing, since it invariably treads on the
- wonderful euphoria your initial inspiration provides. (No, I don't
- feel like a heel for making the joke.)
these boots are made for writing, and that's just what they'll do...
I took the plot less trodden, and that has made all the difference...
walk a mile in your neighbor's moccasins, and hope you don't catch athlete's foot...
you got to walk that lonesome valley, you got to walk it all alone...
don't step on my blue suede shoes...

you don't think I can walk around the world, old man? one step at a time, I can do it. watch me.

stomp out the grapes of write, randy! amen. I say, amen! the wine will flow!

polish them boots, polish the writing, put some spit and polish into it - you think you're still a civilian? I wanta be able to see my face in that boot, boot!

<that "joke" rang so many echoes in here I may have to dig another cavern to put some of them in...>

okay - I got a few thoughts about telling a story that I'd like to interject here.

I've been mulling it over, and I realized that I have been wrong, somewhat, in dismissing the "natural" approach to writing. Dammit, telling a story is the most natural thing anyone can do, and the least natural.

How can it be both?

From the first time you told your mother what the other kid in the playground did, asked for the jello in the refrigerator, or planned an assault up the drawers, across the counter top, and into the cookies - you have been telling stories. Someone asks you "where were you yesterday?" or "did you see the game?" or "what did you want to do about lunch?" - and your storyteller spins a web without any hesitation.

that's the "natural" part.

Selecting, arranging, polishing, and putting the story out in public in a form which makes readers you don't even know sigh over it... That's the "unnatural" part. and it is often where the writer returns to being "blocked."

You probably know the story of the caterpillar? Someone asked him which foot he started on - the poor bug is still standing there, trying to do consciously what used to be an effortless waddle.

Ask a baseball player how they swing, and (most likely) you'll get a fantasy that has little to do with the real muscle flex, back shift, hip twist, half step, lean forward, gum popping action. Worse, trying to turn that fantasy into action on your part is likely to result in a comedy, at best. Sure, you can practice - oh, the half-step - and add it in, make it a part of your game, but the real flowing glory of a whistling bat cracking a fastball into the outfield takes practice and experience, and is the easiest thing in the world - if you don't think about it, just do it.

Stop to think about it, and that fastball is in the catcher's glove. STRIKE!

With writing - you tell a story, letting your storyteller spin out the fragile web as smoothly as possible. Hold your breath and let it go (as Randy said). But, unlike the baseball player, you get to look at what came out. You can break off the odd little crystal that doesn't match in shade (save it for another time!). You can straighten out the strands that aren't quite right. You can even crumple it all up and toss it - hey, selection is part of every art I know. Watch a top potter sometime - all through the process, s/he tosses things. And the final piece looks so effortless...

So you take the swing, then look at where the ball went. Then you do it again, and again, and again... and one day, you hit a home run, and it doesn't feel so unusual.

Step up to the plate and swing.

Strikes, balls, fouls, pop flies, ground balls, bunts - you gotta play to get on base. And you gotta practice to play.

BUT - and it's a big but - you don't think about being a home run hitter. You practice, you listen when the batting coach says to step into the ball, or to drop your shoulder, you do laps (UGH!), and then one day that ball flies. And you grin, and walk around the bases. No sweat, no strain, it just was!

And that's the mark of the pro - the final piece doesn't feel effortful. When someone reads your piece and says, "I've been there." - that's the best accolade. Notice they didn't even say one word about the writing. That's really one of the problems I have with reading the "great masters" as writing models - it is so hard to pay attention to their writing. The story "behind" the words comes out and grabs me, and I forget all about trying to see how they put it together.
<another clip from Randy's post>
- I know that sounds like I'm backing down on the value of revision,
- and maybe I am. But I think, if the piece that was criticized was
- any good to begin with, you'll eventually reevaluate it and come
- back to it. That's when you'll rework it, mold it into a piece that
- comes closer to your ideals than the original did. And that's not
- easy, either, but the finished product will make you prouder than the
- original ever did, with a high that's longer lasting than the high
- from the initial inspiration.
rocky writer's high
inspired to ideals
they panned the gold
from early spewing

rocky writer's high...

<CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP ...>
-How can you let someone else help you write a poem by asking for criticism
-on it? It all seems a little hopeless to me.
-If you are going to write something, write it. And if you don't like it,
-rip it up. Don't post it and hope that someone will help you fix it. That
-amounts to plagarism.
very brief note - editors have been known to suggest changes, as well as performing the heresy of rejecting work. were you planning on publishing? does letting an editor suggest a change make it plagiarism?

when a writer decides to come out into the real world (and I think this is one case where I can use that word accurately), then there are innumerable influences that meld into every artist's work. The selection and "final strokes" are theirs - but to say that they have produced everything in the work by themself, without "standing on the toes of giants" at least, is perhaps a bit exagerrated.

Now, I will grant - actually daring to let someone else look at your work and comment on it is HARD! being enough of an artist to do something with those comments to improve your work (whether that means taking them, trashing them, or doing something else) is HARD! and daring to put your work out there where the common horde will misunderstand it, revile it, and once in a while get it - that's HARD!

sitting in the corner saying I can't let anyone near me because I'm creative is safer. it is also sad.

I've spent time in the corner - not because I was creative, but because I wasn't. Rational, logical, no flair, no talent... but I couldn't leave it alone. and... it really is better outside the corner! there's sunshine, beagle dances, all kinds of good things...

BTW - Herb, excellent post. I did wonder why you skipped the third definition of artist - a professional entertainer. Personally, I think this may be the real key to the ongoing craft/art debate. The writer is an entertainer. When s/he gets paid for it, they are professional (just like the Olympics!). And sometimes, usually without them knowing it, their entertainment slides over into art.

I don't think art is something you try for, or even necessarily recognize yourself. You may be gifted with it, but it isn't something you put in there. You put in the hours of revision, rewriting, practice, and pondering to make it the best you can. That perfect pitch that whistles in and goes flying out into the stands - that's something else. Just be glad when it comes, and ready for it!

As reward for anyone who waded through all this... a little cautionary tale... well, it's non-fiction, but it will have to do while I think up a real story... <wink>

Imagine a painter. She has studied hard, composition, perspective, colors, all the basics, and practiced and practiced. She has spent years, literally, on painting and knows the techniques inside out. Still, something isn't quite right.

One day, while settling down to try again to paint the willow tree her latest teacher has her doing again and again, she looks around and sees an old trashcan, with a mangy alleycat chewing on a fishhead and licking itself, illuminated by a beam of sunlight. She stops, frozen.

She glances back at the willow tree once, then picks up the brush and the oils. She looks at the scene, and at the white canvas, and hesitates. Then she turns her back on the willow.

The brushes move, as she watches, silent, smiling with the buddha that isn't there, somewhere in the back of her head. The cat moves off, and the sunlight fades, but the fingers still touch, lightly, dab here and there. The eyes are half-focused, almost dreaming.

Later, as she wipes at her fingers with the turpentine on a rag, she looks at the canvas. She stops, steps back, and looks again.

If you visit her studio (I have), she has many other paintings now, but that one is hung in a place of honor. There are two oddities about it compared to her other work. First, it is unsigned. Second, although she has had offers for it, she will not sell it.

As she told me, "I can't sign it or sell it. It isn't my work. And I don't know who did it, but I love that piece."

Her hands painted it, her brushes, her oils, her technical skills - but she doesn't consider that one to be her work, although she considers it the best piece in the studio.

I call her an artist.

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