Blog Archives

Pearls from artists* # 366

Studio entrance

Studio entrance

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

For some artists the studio becomes like a temple, a place that becomes invested with a sacred energy.  I was looking at a book recently called Artist at Work.  It featured the studios of several well-known American artists.  In almost every case the space reminded me of a chapel in a cathedral.  The physical, emotional, and even spiritual elevation the space created contributed to the work.

 This is the home turf of your creative space.  A space that stays undisturbed from the rest of daily forces.  It stays open for your arrival.  When you walk in you acquire a heightened readiness to begin.  Your dining room table that must be cleared off for the evening meal will require more energy from you each time you begin.  but a studio collects energy and focuses it, ready for your return.  That space may be your garden, the view behind the house, or a desk in a bedroom that is reserved for your creative work.  But it will help to secure it.  It is your temple, the place where you focus your energies to express yourself.  Your creative home base.

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!    

 

%d bloggers like this: