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Pearls from artists* # 404

"Broken," soft pastel on sandpaper, 38" x 58" image, 50" x 70" framed

“Broken,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 38″ x 58″ image, 50″ x 70″ framed

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

Before we can even think of ecological rescue, global disarmament, or economic reform, we must find a way back to what science fiction writers call our homeworld.  The term encompasses more than the biosphere; it also includes our homes, our places of work, our  communities, families, friends, and lovers.  It includes our technologies and tools, the physical body, the sensible soul, and the unconscious psyche.  We need a faith to restore our capacity to feel, to affect and be affected with the same passionate intensity as our forebears, whose powers of feeling astound us so in the records and art of the past.  The death of affect, to borrow a phrase from JG Ballard, is the true catastrophe of our spectral age, our spiritual Hiroshima.  It makes questions such as whether life’s riddles are answered at the Vatican, in Tibet, or by the Large Hadron Collider utterly meaningless, since it removes the ground we need to pose such questions in the first place.  Neither religion nor science can give us back the ground.  Only the imagination can.  Only art can mend the rupture of the soul and the world, the body and the earth.       

J.F. Martel in Reclaiming Art in the Age of Artifice:  A Treatise, Critique, and Call to Action

Comments are welcome!

Pearls from artists* # 397

"Prophecy," soft pastel on sandpaper, 58" x 38"

“Prophecy,” soft pastel on sandpaper, 58″ x 38″

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

Our species requires a greater capacity to see into the Real, not just the outer universe of the senses but also the inner cosmos of the psyche, the normally invisible dimensions.  Near the end of his life, Jung said to an English journalist, “The only real danger that exists is man himself… His psyche should be studied because we are the origin of all coming evil.”  It is a beautiful statement until the word studied comes up, at which point we are reminded that Jung at bottom was a rationalist:  he refused to see that while psychology could talk brilliantly about the soul, it could never descend into its depths.  For this we need imagination, madness, prophecy – art.  We must understand that creative expression is not a pastime or distraction, but a psychonautic science in its own right.  Allowed to operate in freedom, it can illuminate the darkness beyond our field of vision.     

J.F. Martel in Reclaiming Art in the Age of Artifice:  A Treatise, Critique, and Call to Action

Comments are welcome!

Pearls from artists* # 383

“Sentinels,” Soft Pastel on Sandpaper, 38” x 58” image, 50” x 70” framed

“Sentinels,” Soft Pastel on Sandpaper, 38” x 58” image, 50” x 70” framed

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

… I mean to say that a work of art is a gift.  The gifted artist contains the vitality of his gift within the work, and thereby makes it valuable to others.  Furthermore, works we come to treasure are those which transmit that vitality and revive the soul.  Such works circulate among us as reservoirs of available life, what Whitman calls “the tasteless water of souls.”

Lewis Hyde in The Gift:  Imagination and the Erotic Life of Property 

Comments are welcome!

 

Pearls from artists* # 252

Above the Panamerican Highway in southern Peru

Above the Panamerican Highway in southern Peru

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

All the world is taken in through the eye, to reach the soul, where it becomes more, representative of a realm deeper than appearances: a realm ideal and sublime, a deep stillness that is, whose whole proclamation is the silence and the lack of material instance in which, patiently and radiantly, the universe exists. 

Mary Oliver in Upstream: Selected Essays

Comments are welcome!

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