Friday, August 22, 2014

Art is Sensuous


Preface

As Dr. Ron Art took sufficient shape for me to launch it via a Facebook page three years ago, I wanted to share my Art Manifesto.  This manifesto isn't just a set of beliefs about art, but also a proposal about the very nature of art.  Physicists work at discovering the immutable laws of the universe, and in a similar way I work at crystallizing some fundamental truths about art.  More broadly, art is an integral component of The Tripartite Model, along with science and religion.

My Art Manifesto
  1. Art is cross-art by nature
  2. Art is always autobiographical
  3. Art is sensuous
  4. Art is synesthetic
  5. Art is never completely original
  6. Art has value
Dr. Ron Art is a sizable complex with five main wings, under which several projects are at various stages of progress:
My Art Manifesto is the undercurrent for these projects. This is the third of six articles, where I introduce this manifesto.



Touch

Nicholas Cage as Seth and Meg Ryan as Maggie in `City of Angels (1998) have a moment at the library.  She feels him hold her hand and run a finger on her palm.  She had questioned his feeling that she was an excellent doctor, and had tacitly dismissed such praise from the stranger.  In one regard, this beautiful, poignant film is her story, she who is first baffled and skeptical, then shifts from science (analytical and skeptical) to art (experiential and authentic).  At the end, she glides on a kind of ribbon of religion, where she lives life fully, with the wind in her hair and the sun on her face.


Taste
As I ate the oysters with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste... as I drank their cold liquid from each shell and washed it down with the crisp taste of the wine, I lost the empty feeling and began to be happy. 
From a passage in A Moveable Feast, by Earnest Hemingway, which Seth reads.

Sight

There is quite a lot in the following clip from `A Beautiful Mind (2001), where Russell Crowe as John and Jennifer Connelly as Alicia go a first date.  The visuals in general are arresting.  But if we believe that God is truly an artist, then the visuals of a Marc Chagall painting are as transcendent as Alicia sees it and also as stunning as she is.  At her behest, the geeky genius John sees a certain artistry in the cosmos. 


Self Portrait with Seven Fingers (1913), by Marc Chagall
Sound

Charlotte Church sings `All You Can Be, as the love theme, in a hauntingly beautiful voice.  In fact, the soundtrack James Horner is in and of itself sensuous. 


Scent

`Perfume: The Story of a Murderer is an unfortunate title for this lush and lavish 2006 film.  Indeed Ben Whishaw as Jean-Baptiste Grenouille does kill, in an effort to capture the intoxicating but elusive scent of a woman.  But his killings are simply one part of a rich story about his ungodly heightened sense of smell.  In reality, of course, we as the audience do not smell what he smells.  But through the filmmaker's craft and our imagination, it was quite easy for us to smell all that captivated Jean-Baptiste.


Finally, my poem on a stunningly fragrant, long lasting Casablanca Lily:


Not all pieces of art will engage our five senses equally.  But if we give free reign to all of our senses, then art as a whole rewards us with an inviolably sensuous experience.

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Art is Always Autiobiographical


Preface

As Dr. Ron Art took sufficient shape for me to launch it via a Facebook page three years ago, I wanted to share my Art Manifesto.  This manifesto isn't just a set of beliefs about art, but also a proposal about the very nature of art.  Physicists work at discovering the immutable laws of the universe, and in a similar way I work at crystallizing some fundamental truths about art.  More broadly, art is an integral component of The Tripartite Model, along with science and religion.

My Art Manifesto
  1. Art is cross-art by nature
  2. Art is always autobiographical
  3. Art is sensuous
  4. Art is synesthetic
  5. Art is never completely original
  6. Art has value
Dr. Ron Art is a sizable complex with five main wings, under which several projects are at various stages of progress:
My Art Manifesto is the undercurrent for these projects.  This is the second of six articles, where I introduce this manifesto.



Art draws from experience

The 2006 film `Open Window stars Robin Tunney as Izzy and Joel Edgerton as her fiance Peter.  Theirs is a down-to-earth, genuinely loving relationship, but when a stranger enters through a window she left ajar, and rapes her, their lives turn inside-out and upside-down.  The film was so disregarded that there wasn't even a Wikipedia entry, but nevertheless I found it emotionally powerful and artistically compelling.

   

Here is the story of its writer and director:
One night in 1989, Mia Goldman awakened to find a menacing stranger sitting on top of her, ordering her to keep her mouth shut or he would "shoot [her] brains out" with a gun he had placed on a nightstand.

At the time, Goldman, a film editor, was living in a two-story condominium in rural Virginia, on location with the film, "Crazy People." Her assailant revealed that he knew she was working on the movie, that he had been stalking her and that he had entered the condo through a downstairs window she had left open a crack for air.

Over the next five hours, he brutally raped, tortured and beat Goldman, covering her body with bruises and injuring her neck. In the aftermath, she developed a heart murmur, endured cervical surgeries, experienced flashbacks and other symptoms of post-traumatic stress syndrome and lost her boyfriend, who had tried to be kind but ultimately could not deal with his own feelings of trauma and violation.

Goldman says it took her six years to work through her depression and to heal, which she did with the help of her psychoanalyst, her family and her growing spiritual connection to Judaism. She drew on her experience to write and direct her debut feature, "Open Window," which premieres on Showtime July 16 at 8 p.m.

The intense, intimate drama revolves around Izzy (Robin Tunney), a struggling photographer, Izzy's fiancé, Peter (Joel Edgerton), and how their relationship unravels after she is raped by a man who enters her studio through an open window.

Both Izzy and Peter are devastated by the rape: "I wanted to show how the act violates not only the woman, but also the man -- and how it creates circles of pain that may extend to the entire family," Goldman says.
Reference:  Mia Goldman’s film is an ‘Open Window’ into trauma and recovery.

Art draws on empathy

I first heard of Rodrigo García as the director of the mysterious 2008 film Passengers, starring Anne Hathaway as Claire and Patrick Wilson as Eric, among unlikely survivors of a horrific airplane crash. It was a box office bomb, but I found it to be a well-scripted, well-acted, imaginative albeit creepy story of the after-life.

Breaking new ground with award-winning scripted dramas for the digital age

When I stumbled on the WIGS channel on YouTube, I was already acquainted with co-creator García.  I found myself enthralled with the fine, sensitive, empathic portrayal of women.  In fact all of the WIGS films are titled simply by the names of the women who lead a range of stories.  My favorite among all of them is the story of `Blue, with Julia Stiles, who struggles with a turbulent past of addiction and a double-life now as a mother and a call girl.  García's writing and directing are just brilliant.  Though it isn't a perfect effort for him, I'd definitely vouch for the fact that he nails these women roles:
Glenn [Close], whom we interviewed after our chat with Rodrigo, theorized why the director excels in creating absorbing female characters: “Rodrigo has a wonderful mother and had a wonderful grandmother. I think he has a very strong wife (Dawn Hudson, executive director of Independent Filmmaker Project/West) and he has two daughters. He’s surrounded by women. He probably would say he has no choice. I’ve been in his first two movies. He writes fantastic roles for women. He’s a man who understands the feminine side of life and revels in what all that means.

When he was told that actresses he has directed often talk about his great insight and sensibility toward women, Rodrigo cracked with a smile: “I hear my wife laughing right now.”

But he admitted to having “What feels to me like a very strong imagination. I don’t know what it’s like to be a woman, but when I imagine the women characters that I write about, I feel them very strongly in my head. I’m glad that so many women respond to them. If they didn’t, I would have given it up a long time ago. One of the things that feeds me to keep writing women is that a lot of women connect with them. But it’s always a bit of a prayer. I am not saying, ‘Oh, I’m going to nail this one. This is what this woman is like.’ I have to go with my instinct and, like I said before, I just assume she has to be a little bit like me. She must. She wants things.

He said that one of the best things he has read on this topic was when Gustave Flaubert was asked who was Madame Bovary. Rodrigo said, “Flaubert said, ‘Madame Bovary is me.’ We make movies about other men. We make movies about people in other periods, people in outer space or who’ve gone to space, fired a gun, been on a horse. Imagination – you have to have that as storytellers. Plus empathy to feel that everyone else is me and that I am everyone else. There’s a particular set of circumstances around Nobbs. She had to hide to survive but everyone hides an aspect of themselves in order to fit in and survive.”
Reference: Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s son on the art of storytelling

All men have been around women in one way or another, of course. So while Close's theory sounds quite reasonable, García probably draws on more than just personal experience.  I think he also taps his empathic understanding of women to make such breathtaking, compelling art. It is empathy - psychologically putting yourself in others' shoes - that he draws from most, and his films speak to his personal instinct, grasp and imagination. 

Art draws on imagination

Vincent Van Gogh is one of my longtime favorites, and more than three decades after my university days, impressionism as a genre still draws me.  The story goes that his friend and fellow painter Paul Gauguin advised him to paint from his imagination, that is, instead of reality.   While Van Gogh admired him, and paid lip service to his mentoring, he demured.  The deeply talented Dutchman preferred instead to paint scenes he saw in front of him, such as the following:

Bedroom in Arles (1888)
Then while in an asylum in Saint-Rémy, he didn't have his usual access to places that inspired him.  But inspired, he still was.  While there was an identifiable view of the following painting, that is, outside the east-facing window of his room, he apparently painted it during the daytime and in a different place at the asylum.  He painted it from memory, in other words, and the idyllic village in background and the bold fire strokes of the moon, stars and sky were his imaginative rendition.  

Starry Night (1889)
Bedroom in Arles and Starry Night are among the things that Van Gogh saw.  They speak to his remarkable ability not just to paint, but also to keep his dysphoria, delusions and torment under artistic control.  Besides imagination, there is emotionality to these paintings, which, pat psychiatric diagnoses notwithstanding, speak to a far greater complexity, richness and talent.

So just as Madame Bovary is Flaubert, and Blue is García, so Arles and Saint-Rémy are unmistakably Van Gogh. 

The foregoing works of art tell remarkable stories about the personal experience, empathy and imagination of the artists behind them.

Monday, August 18, 2014

Art is Cross-Art by Nature


Preface

As Dr. Ron Art took sufficient shape for me to launch it via a Facebook page three years ago, I wanted to share my Art Manifesto.  This manifesto isn't just a set of beliefs about art, but also a proposal about the very nature of art.  Physicists work at discovering the immutable laws of the universe, and in a similar way I work at crystallizing some fundamental truths about art.  More broadly, art is an integral component of The Tripartite Model, along with science and religion.

My Art Manifesto
  1. Art is cross-art by nature
  2. Art is always autobiographical
  3. Art is sensuous
  4. Art is synesthetic
  5. Art is never completely original
  6. Art has value
Dr. Ron Art is a sizable complex with five main wings, under which several projects are at various stages of progress:
My Art Manifesto is the undercurrent for these projects.  This is the first of six articles, where I introduce this manifesto.



 

I take umbrage at those who define art only as paintings.  Certainly what painters render from their imagination, onto canvas, is a work of wonder. But they aren't the only artists we can speak of.  Poets and novelists | playwrights, filmmakers and actors | dancers and musicians | even martial artists and fashion designers | and so many more | belong in this enormous circle, too.

Art speaks to a wide range of creative talent, genres and expressions.

Moreover, they all have a play on that canvas, which I see as a metaphor for any art creation. That canvas can be a video, a book, or a stage.  Social media is the wide-ranging, modern day platform we have come to know, but the tried-and-true media of TV, radio and print are very much alive and kicking.  Not just one, then, but multiple avenues, through which inspired artists can express themselves and also through which art aficionados can enjoy their work.

Art can play on a diverse set of media platforms and channels.

Consider the following:


  

You see, these two videos aren't just dance, but also an intimate, intricate coming together of music, drama and cinematography.  There is something supreme to experience, when we watch ballet live, which makes theater so much more of a draw than any other media.  Yet, that stage production cannot account for the creative versatility of film.  The cuts from Polina Semionova gliding in the air, to her sylph legs and feet; or from the pas de deux, to the tight closeups of Amelia in Edouard Lock's choreography, raise the artistry of these pieces.

What is art anyway?

Just in case you weren't sure:


  

  

Art may be very difficult to define, because to define something is to take an objective view and to arrive at a description that many, if not necessarily all, can agree on.  But by nature, art is subjective, and because it is so varied and people are arguably each unique, it defies conventional definition.

That subjectivity, uniqueness and defiance are all why I love art.

Friday, August 8, 2014

Is Hip-Hop Poetry? by Robert Pinsky



I love what Robert Pinsky speaks to, as far as this ancient art of poetry vis-a-vis this modern day bent for performance is concerned.  The distinction he makes, though, seems to me one of generational difference.  For example, I am closer in age to Pinsky than I am to the teens and twenties of today, and I was schooled on the formality of poetry and specifically its existence solely as printed on the page.  Of course I don't write on paper anymore, but on my laptop with Microsoft Word as my medium.  Still my poetry has evolved into a multimedia, cross-art phenomenon.  The very title of this blog speaks to that evolution, as recently, for instance, I wrote poetry straight on this blog, not on Word.  While I haven't quite written poetry for performance yet, I can and will do so, in ways that modern day culture relishes.

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Last Canto of Paradiso, Recited by Robert Pinsky


As I drew nearer to the end of all desire,
I brought my longing's ardor to a final height,
Just as I ought. My vision, becoming pure,

Entered more and more the beam of that high light
That shines on its own truth. From then, my seeing
Became too large for speech, which fails at a sight

Beyond all boundaries, at memory's undoing—
As when the dreamer sees and after the dream
The passion endures, imprinted on his being

Though he can't recall the rest. I am the same:
Inside my heart, although my vision is almost
Entirely faded, droplets of its sweetness come

The way the sun dissolves the snow's crust—
The way, in the wind that stirred the light leaves,
The oracle that the Sibyl wrote was lost.
from the Last Canto of Paradiso (xxxiii, 46-48, 52-66), by Dante Alighieri, translated by Robert Pinsky

It isn't like sleep at all, is it.  Sleep is a slow fade, where details become increasingly hazy, well before sleep shutters the windows completely.  Instead, for Dante as poet, details come in such richness and lyricism, right up to that moment when the oracle is lost forever.  Of course the irony is that while the poet must die, his poetry lives on.

Monday, August 4, 2014

The Forgetting, by Robert Pinsky


The forgetting I notice most as I get older is really a form of memory:

The undergrowth of things unknown to you young, that I have forgotten. 
Memory of so much crap, jumbled with so much that seems to matter.

Lieutenant Calley. Captain Easy. Mayling Soong. Sibby Sisti. 
And all the forgettings that preceded my own: Baghdad, Egypt, Greece,

The Plains, centuries of lootings of antiquities. Obscure atrocities. 
Imagine!—a big tent filled with mostly kids, yelling for poetry. In fact

It happened, I was there in New Jersey at the famous poetry show. 
I used to wonder, what if the Baseball Hall of Fame overflowed

With too many thousands of greats all in time unremembered? 
Hardly anybody can name all eight of their great grandchildren.

Can you? Will your children’s grandchildren remember your name? 
You’ll see, you little young jerks: your favorite music and your political

Furors, too, will need to get sorted in dusty electronic corridors. 
In 1972, Zhou Enlai was asked the lasting effects of the French

Revolution: “Too soon to tell.” Remember?—or was it Mao Tse-tung? 
Poetry made of air strains to reach back to Begats and suspiring

Forward into air, grunting to beget the hungry or overfed Future. 
Ezra Pound praises the Emperor who appointed a committee of scholars

To pick the best 450 Noh plays and destroy all the rest, the fascist. 
The stand-up master Stephen Wright says he thinks he suffers from

Both amnesia and déjà vu: “I feel like I have forgotten this before.” 
Who remembers the arguments when jurors gave Pound the only prize

For poetry awarded by the United States Government? Until then. 
I was in the big tent when the guy read his poem about how the Jews

Were warned to get out of the Twin Towers before the planes hit. 
The crowd was applauding and screaming, they were happy—it isn’t

That they were anti-Semitic, or anything. They just weren’t listening. Or 
No, they were listening, but that certain way. In it comes, you hear it, and that

Self-same second you swallow it or expel it: an ecstasy of forgetting.
The Forgetting, by Robert Pinksy

Wow there is full of pathos, regret and bitterness, even humor in this poem, as I read it and listen to Pinsky.  The irony is that the aging speaker isn't bemoaning his forgetfulness, but that of others.  I imagine that years of writing poetry have made his mind something of a steel trap and something of a sharp tack.  Poetry is a defense against forgetting, especially those things that have cultural and historical import for us.  The curiosity of memory, I suppose, is that even trivial things seem to get caught in that trap, too.  But with information growing, like cancer on super-steroids, every single moment, we in the modern day have only an ecstasy of forgetting at our disposal.    

Friday, August 1, 2014

Finland, by Luci Romero


(image credit)

FINLANDIA
Vibrar no es la palabra.

Incendios que borran con tiza
esa cremallera que vertebra tu espalda. 
Describo con este tacto olvidado:
un paisaje horadado, casi agreste
en su espina, moldea un vaso roto. 
Caen o brotan las palabras, casi
como castigo. Y yo imagino
un brazo o un niño, como forma
de escapar a la belleza. 
Arde, más, el idioma.
Bing Translation

Finland
Vibrate is not the word.

Fire eating chalk this zipper that supports your back.

I describe to this forgotten touch: a bored, almost wild landscape in your spine, a broken vase shapes.

Fall or spring words, almost as a punishment. And I imagine an arm or a child, as a way to escape to the beauty.

Burns, the language.
~Luci Romero
(Cabra, Córdoba, España,1980)

Posted, by Emma Gunst