Hey, back for more
Saturday, 16 February 2008, 23:24 PM
[ Currently: Listening to "Nothing Left To Lose" by Mat Kearney ]
Creativity on demand has never been my strong point. I got in a big discussion with a friend the other day about the nature of the artistic work and the artist's relation to it. He claimed that most art was terminally unfinished, always being polished, and impossible to create on a timeline.
I want to agree, but actually...I think he's wrong.
It depends, I suppose, on the nature of the art in question. In my case, let's call it a story. Who is the audience of the story? What is its function? If it is my creative release, my personal expression of myself, written by and for me and me alone (as much art is...), then he's abosulutly right. It can't be created on a timeline and it's never perfect, and the process of working on it is what I desire. Completion, therefore, defeats its function. However, I think of my art as the expression of emotion. I want to say something, to pass on the unique beauty or pain or some other such worthy red-blooded life-giving feeling to others. I want to share, because it has been shared with me. I want others to read and raise eyebrows and mabye get just a little bit of my perspective out of the tale. Perhaps they'll learn a bit, or be inspired just a bit, and go on and live better for it. As such, my art requires a timeline because it has no function until it is completed, posted, published, and public. I crave a deadline. The stuff produced to a deadline won't be the best--and as such, nod to my friend, requires continious editing and tweaking, ect--but it will be DONE, out there, available. If I fail to express worthy emotion, if my art does nothing but cause a shake of the head, then it has provided exactly as much inspiriation to my fellow human beings as my nearly-perfect-yet-forever-unfinished peice which never leaves the comfy confines of my notebook.
Today I took two or three disparate peices of mild inspiration and a couple of random events in my life and melded together a story. It hasn't been brewing in my head or on my hard drive; I just started and finished on a mellow Saturday, in between car maitenence and house cleaning. It probably isn't very good. It has amaturish parts and awkward bits. However, poorly phrased as it might be, it has just a little soul in it, and I feel like anything with soul can be worked with. Poorly written but soulful is surely more valuable than expertly written but hollow. It's called "Contrails" and I'll post in the fiction section.
On a completely unrelated note, I feel a note of sadness that this fourum and these blogs seem so...lightly availed. On the other hand, there's a bit of comfort in hiding in the dark, unknown corner...but surely I'm a hypocrite here, because I am no all star at 'availing' myself in these parts. I hereby make the commitment to browse, comment, and get some things moving around here!
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