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Pearls from artists* # 363

Thar Desert, Rajasthan, India

Thar Desert, Rajasthan, India

* an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.

Beauty seems to need quiet and take patience, both to create it and to experience it.

If our minds are filled with a long and urgent “to do” list, we are not likely to slow down enough to appreciate anything but the next line we can draw through our never-ending list.  Yet every now and again something stops us. It arrests our constant external activity and search.  We can be stopped by the way the light filters through the trees in our backyard or hits a bowl of fruit on our kitchen table.  And we are silenced, even if momentarily.  We can be stopped by cave paintings as easily as by a thirteenth-century tapestry or a fifteenth-century Italian painting.  We may be impressed by the craft of the artist, but almost always what moves us most deeply is the beauty that is expressed by the craft.

In the face of beauty, we are silenced because beauty expresses silence.  In lavishing attention on the object of the artwork, the consciousness of the artist can touch something divine, some transcendental quality, and that transcendent element now resides in the artwork.  How do we know it?  We feel it. We experience it.  Our heart responds to that sublime quality the artist infused into the work.

Ian Roberts in Creative Authenticity:  16 Principles to Clarify and Deepen Your Artistic Vision

Comments are welcome!

Pearls from artists* # 88

Teotihuacan

Teotihuacan

* an ongoing series of quotations – mostly from artists, to artists – that offers wisdom, inspiration, and advice for the sometimes lonely road we are on.

To men like Ayers, it occurs to me, this temple is civilization.  The masses, slaves, peasants, and foot soldiers exist in the cracks of its flagstones, ignorant even of their ignorance.  Not so the great statesmen, scientists, artists, and most of all, the composers of the age, any age, who are civilization’s architects, masons, and priests.  Ayers sees our role is to make civilization ever more resplendent.  My employer’s profoundest, or only, wish is to create a minaret that inheritors of Progress a thousand years from now will point to and say, “Look, there is Vyvyan Ayers!”

How vulgar, this hankering after immortality, how vain, how false.  Composers are merely scribblers of cave paintings.  One writes music because winter is eternal and because, if one didn’t, the wolves and blizzards would be at one’s throat all the sooner.

David Mitchell in Cloud Atlas

Comments are welcome!    

 

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