Dwindling the hours, being passed over like a salt shaker over a crowded dinner table.
I have something to say about art.
Scott prompted me to have a look at Noah Grey's website during a discussion on digital cameras and his remarks on art caught my eye.
There is so much to be said on the topic, and I have to agree with most of his words - the art comes from the artist, not the equipment or the choice of medium he chooses to express by. Yes, there are techniques, but techniques are less than a tenth of the story. Creativity is a joy and a curse that one stumbles upon, that one cannot escape from once it has you in its steely grasp. It demands that you bow to its whims and be imprisoned, be addicted by the small satisfactions it occasionally brings, be drowned by its magnificence, be tortured by its quest for perfection.
And on reading the many comments on his opinion, one draws the conclusion that there can be ever such a large gap between the artist and his audience. We who are slaves to art know only that we try to bridge this gap. It is such a strange, contradictory affair. We would not exist if not for this gap, and yet, we are condemned to wield every axe and sword in our inventory of weapons in order to conquer it.
It is difficult for the artist to explain the "whys" and the "hows" - Noah seems to be frustrated by such questions from some who deeply admire his work. In part, while there are probably explanations for the "hows", and while many of us have been forced to justify the reasons for our creations - usually first and foremost to ourselves - we don't truly know how it happens. In order to explain, we would probably write more poetry, compose more music, paint more portraits, shoot more photographs - because these are our native tongues.
I, for one, believe that the day I cease to create, I cease to exist.
Posted by sniffles at December 19, 2001 11:01 PM