Existentialism and a Pretty Flower

A little existentialism if you please.  Is art about execution or idea?  As a practitioner of a heavily technical medium I'm inclined towards former, but as an artist I'm inclined toward the latter.  For visual artists it's an important question to consider.  I feel non-visual mediums don't suffer as much from this, a poorly written and preformed piece of music is instantly recognizable, as is bad writing as well as poor acting.  Yet in the visual media one is almost always forced to describe in words what the point is, why this particular stroke of color or that symbolic metaphor.  The first minute of Bach's Suite for Cello leaves me breathless, and yet I've never read his personal interpretation of it.  Is it the responsibility of the artist to do so, or not.  Shouldn't the idea behind the work be clear if the execution was well executed.  Or does it help the viewer understand a deeper, more personal meaning if the artist expands on the idea verbally.  Visiting modern art shows, in all mediums, I sometimes get the feeling well crafted pieces are brushed aside as merely that.  That somehow, complete control of the tools will invariably inhibit the free expressive use of them.  This bothers me because unsubstantiated ideas are cheap and prolific.  It takes beautiful execution in your chosen medium to portray that idea with grace.  I'm a proponent of understanding every nuance of the tools you use to create your work.  Chance favoring the prepared mind.  I recently carved a didgerdoo while on vacation and when deciding on it's surface finish I came across an article talking about how the native Aboriginals of Australia have no distinction between art and craft, they are one in the same.  Perhaps only when execution and idea meld together does true art become made.  No words, no descriptions, no eloquent debates, just the inevitable magnifying glass that true art holds against the self, the species and the world.

So with that, here's a non-existential pretty flower to brighten your Sunday!

Cheers all!

Fear Not the Rain

A man, caught in a sudden rain en route, dashes along the road not to get wet or drenched. Once one takes it for granted that in rain he naturally gets wet, he can be in a tranquil frame of mind even when soaked to the skin.

The Hagakure (Behind the Leaves)

Born a bit too Late...

I often feel I'm about a hundred and fifty years too late. I have a fascination with the mid 1800's, the time of enlightenment, Thoreau, scientific awakening, natural discovery and John Muir. Like most people I have idols, but mine are a bit different. Hesse, Thoreau, Feynman, Whitman, Abbey and John Muir, that most enlightened Scottish individual and his deep rooted need to wander the landscape, sketching its patterns and observing its wonders. I can relate. One of my favorite stories he wrote is of a little hike he took up Tenya Canyon in Yosemite Valley. It's a notoriously dangerous hike; exposed granite slabs, slippery descents, multiple rappels, class 4 scrambles. It's on my list. Today one needs permits, maps, fancy rope, the proper timing, etc, but with Muir all that was needed was a loaf of half-eaten bread and a journal. After entering Yosemite Valley he headed straight on towards the East end and Tenya Canyon. Traversing the lower section of the hike, littered with huge boulders and fast water he started the upper sections and took a nasty fall that knocked him cold and nearly took his life, cursing his feet telling them "that is what you get by intercourse with stupid town stairs, and dead pavement". Rather than retreat, he pressed on promising to "..guide my humbled body over the highest precipices and the most intricate and nerve-trying places.." Feeling confident that the last of the town-fog and been shaken from both head and feet he slept on a smooth granite boulder, munching stale bread and writing in his journal by the bright moonlight. To wander freely throughout that untouched beauty of place, sketching, noting seems to me as close to perfection as I guess there can be. 

Obsession with Reality

What is this photographic obsession with reality.  Don't reproduce what was there, show me what you felt.