The Evolution of Art, Part I

"Bit by bit, putting it together

Piece by piece, only way to make a work of art

Every moment makes a contribution

Every little detail plays a part

Having just a vision's no solution

Everything depends on execution

Putting it together (that's what counts)"

~ Stephen Sondheim

from Sunday in the Park with George

Do you have those things in life when you know something started, but you can not quite remember when it started? Art, in my life, is one of those things. I can't recall a time when drawing or doodling did not interest me. For years I would doodle in the margins of notes from meetings, classes or sermons. There would be times when I would take the subject more seriously and I would be inspired to produce a number of things. But, those times would be followed by long droughts of artistic inactivity. Yet, during those times an idea was usually always circulating in my mind.

Sparked by an event that occurred a few months ago, I have experienced a re-awakening in my life as it pertains to art. Little by little my attention is being drawn back to art; to exploring my creative side in earnest. I have yet to fall into a pattern of drawing daily or even weekly, but it is a goal I have set for myself. I have dug my pens and pencils out of the dust and put together a kit that I can carry with me, in hopes that having a bit of time, I can sketch. I did some of this while in rehearsals for my church Christmas play, and I have started to inject doodles into my journal writing. Anything to move the artistic dial; even just a little.

So, why, The Evolution of Art, Part I?

As in most things, I believe that we all wish to become better at what we do. When I played guitar I watched others and worked to learn more cords in an effort to be a better guitarist. As an actor I tried to be better with each performance of each production; working to suspend reality a few hours at a time. As a writer I want to construct a better sentence within a better paragraph and then tie them together into something I hope is worth reading. This is no different with art. I want my next sketch to be more interesting than the last. I want to improve my limited understanding of light and shadow and of perspective and relationship of objects to one another. I have so much to learn and feel that I am at the beginning of an interesting process.

While clearing the dust away from my supplies I happened upon a folder containing some of what I did early on. In the interest of sharing The Evolution in Art, my (hopeful) evolution, I share a few of these with you here. Perhaps we all will see a bit of growth as time goes by.

These are a few items from 1987.  We'll call this my Lines and Felt Tip Marker Phase. I also did a few program cover designs in pencil. During this time I was fascinated with the convergence and relationship of lines.

This is some work from 1988; a few color pencil drawings and a pen and ink. The color pencils are of no particular scene though they are of specific themes. The street scene speaks to my love of England while the scene with trees and water was done while I was rehearsing for a production of On Golden Pond. What I was interested in with these was the blending of colors.

As time goes on there will be other installments, no doubt; some later works and works yet to be started. 

This is a beginning. I have my art bag ready, and along with my camera, it will begin traveling with me daily. Having seen a sketch by someone began while waiting in his car at a railroad crossing, I feel I should be ready when an occasion to draw presents itself. I am taking advantage of a seldom used room upstairs to set up a table for drawing. Having things readily available defeats the tendency to not start because things are not at hand. 

The desire has been re-established and the tools have been assembled. What form it takes is yet to be seen. Pen and inks again? Very possible. Sketching? Yes. Watercolors? Well, I do have them, and pastels as well. Acrylics and oils? Scary.  Doodling? Practically every day!

The Evolution of Art has started here. It will be interesting. At least to me.

Greg

The Power of Literature

Art is powerful!  All forms of art. Music, painting, poetry or prose, photography, theater, film, and so forth. They all possess the ability to attract or repel. Whether we appreciate the work that we have just seen, read, or heard, it has effected us in some manner; either positively or negatively. 

Art is also transformative. It can cause us to change or it can reinforce a change that has been made or is in the process of being made in our lives. It can cause us to transcend a present reality, if only for a moment, and enter a place where all is calm and all is right. Where there is peace.

In the case of literature, it will sometimes put into words something that we are not quite able to articulate for ourselves. It speaks to us and it speaks for us.

I am not sure when it was that I first read W. Somerset Maugham’s The Moon and Sixpence. I wish I did. Along with Of Human Bondage, this was one of the first works of Somerset Maugham’s that I read. Though I enjoyed the entire novel, it was a single paragraph found at the beginning of Chapter 50 that forever marked this work as being one of my favorites.

“I have an idea that some men are born out of their due place. Accident has cast them amid certain surroundings, but they have always a nostalgia for a home they know not. They are strangers in their birthplace, and the leafy lanes they have known from childhood or the populous streets in which they have played, remain but a place of passage. They may spend their whole lives aliens among their kindred and remain aloof among the only scenes they have ever known. Perhaps it is this sense of strangeness that sends men far and wide in the search for something permanent, to which they may attach themselves. Perhaps some deep-rooted atavism urges the wanderer back to lands which his ancestors left in the dim beginnings of history. Sometimes a man hits upon a place to which he mysteriously feels that he belongs. Here is the home he sought, and he will settle amid scenes that he has never seen before, among men he has never known, as though they were familiar to him from his birth. Here at last he finds rest.”

These words illustrate a feeling that I felt following my first trip to England. While time has dimmed my memory of that trip somewhat, I do recall once taking a walk along some side streets of Camden Town. I had turned a corner while returning from a bank. At that moment I felt as though this was were I was meant to be. Not specifically in that area of the city or even on that particular street, but in this country, this part of the world. As the passage reads, I was sensing “a nostalgia for a home” that I knew not. I had hit upon a place where I felt I belonged. 

What caused this I do not know. It might have been that my ancestors came from the British Isles. It might have been a deep appreciation for English Literature and British History. It might have been admiration of a centuries old culture. Whatever it was, I felt that I was in the place where I would live a portion of my life.

I remember telling someone on the flight home that I would be back in six months. But as things happen, life occurs and sometimes our hopes and dreams dim in the harsh light of reality. Dim, but not burn out. It took twenty years, but I did return to England. Once for a holiday with my wife. Then again when we moved to Warwickshire.

Perhaps we all carry a sense of longing within us; that desire to be in that place where we know we belong. It may not be to live in a foreign land, but it is there. It is that something that draws us further down the street and makes us turn the next corner. Around that corner is excitement and adventure. Around that corner is fulfillment, But too, there is peace that may be found. It is a peace that comes from knowing that you at last have found rest.

There is power in literature. It can express for us what we have longed to express and in doing so, it becomes a part of who we are.

Greg

Paris: Shakespeare and Company

My wife recently returned from a mission trip to Ecuador.  While sharing the highlights of her trip with me, she mentioned seeing the film Midnight in Paris on her flight home.  She said, "Greg, you've got to see this movie.  You'll love it."

It wasn't long after that I received a note from a good friend saying that he and his wife had just seen the film Midnight in Paris.  The note basically said, "Greg, you've got to see this movie.  You'll love it."

They know that I love Paris!  And this is true.  I have a certain affinity for the artistic, bohemian lifestyle lived by those collectively known as the "Lost Generation".  Granted, my notions of this life and time are romanticized, but still, it was a time of intense creativity.  It was also a time that yielded some of my favorite writers, both in that circle of friends, and out.  Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Somerset Maugham works are among those on my shelves.

Having two trusted recommendations, I rushed out and bought the film the day it became available. They were right, I loved it!  I love the scenery and music. I love the ways the characters are drawn and the fanciful story of being able to visit a favorite bygone time.  Near the end of the film there is a shot of Shakespeare and Company.  This drew me back in time for a moment.

I always love the opportunity to visit Paris.  I was first there just out of school and my wife and I honeymooned there.  In later years I'd try to visit while living or working in Europe, but those times were few.  But still, during these trips, and if time allowed, I loved visiting Shakespeare and Company.  It provided me with a physical embodiment of my romanticized notions.  Though the literal location of the shop is different from when Sylvia Beach first opened her lending library in 1919, I like to imagine the same ambiance is present.  I like to think that huddled away in a corner of the present shop is the spirit of Hemingway plotting a new story or that upstairs James Joyce is revising Ulysses. 

Sylvia's store was a gathering place for a generation between the wars who sought to push the envelop of creativity in art and literature. When George Whitman opened his shop in 1951, he sought to capture this same energy making it a center of activity for a new generation of writers and thinkers.  In addition to selling books, he held readings downstairs, while upstairs he offered living and working space for young writers.  His stacks, now  managed by his daughter, almost defy description having books crammed into every available nook and cranny.  They are laid out on tables and displayed in any other available space. Shakespeare and Company is not a place for the casual shopper or one who must make their way in and out in a very short time.  It is a place that cries out to be explored.

A point of interest, for me at least, is that the shop at 37 Rue de la Bucherie is inside Kilometer Zero for France; the marker being located in the square of the main entrance to Notre Dame.  When you purchase a book you can have it stamped indicating the book was purchased in the shop and within Kilometer Zero. Not knowing this, my first book doesn't bear the stamp. But on a return trip I made my way to the shop, spent an hour or so selecting just the right title, and then purchased Somerset Maugham's The Narrow Corner for 55 francs* and had it stamped.  A treasure.

In an era when the printed word seems to be retreating and bookstores close for lack of patronage, Shakespeare and Company stands out as an example of what was, what is and what can still be.  It is a place where the written word is explored and celebrated and shared with any who wish to step into its richness.  It is its uniqueness that make it what it is.  Still, I wish there were more shops, such as this, that beg us to come in and spend time.  We would become better for having done it.

So yes, I enjoyed Midnight in Paris and loved being reminded of Shakespeare and Company.  I have been gone far too long from a city I adore, and this brought me back for a moment.  Now, you'll need to excuse me while I find my passport.

Greg

* sadly I have not been able to visit Shakespeare and Company since the introduction of the Euro. An oversight, I know, but one I hope remedy fairly soon.

Why?

Then

Since September 30, 2007 I have been blogging. It started as a suggestion from my wife Gerrie as a way in which I could share me love of all things Disney  and my particular fondness for Walt Disney World. I have enjoyed working on The Disney Obsession and will continue from time to time to add things there. I suppose that no matter how old I become, I will always remain a child at heart and The Disney Obsession provides me a place where I can share my photographs and my occasional thoughts about the parks and other Disney-related topics. And too, through that blog I have met some incredible people; both locally and away. Their friendships will continue to enrich my life.

My life has been an adventure and it continues to be so. During the past four months though I have experienced a good deal of change in my life. It is not so much physical change (though I am resolved that some change in area is welcome), but more a psychological change. Last Sunday I wrote about the film, The Way, and the impact it had on my outlook in life. It is an outlook that now looks more at how to enjoy the moment-by-moment journey of my life and spend less effort concerned about some destination. Add to this, I experienced something of an artistic reawakening this past September. Where I would draw or sketch from time to time, I now wish to dig deeper into how I can express myself with my pen and pencils, my watercolors, my photography, and perhaps maybe, my words.

Now

Here I set, staring at this new avenue of expression; this new blog. Though I have pondered this for a few months now, it isn't fully realized in my mind. I am not sure if I have clearly defined my audience or what the contents will become for this space. At one point I considered this becoming a written "oral history" for my children and grandchildren, but I struggle with what to share and what not to share. Some things may be more personal than what should be included here, and for those things I need another forum. But, I should start somewhere.

But here, I do wish to share my experience in life; my journey. I want to share the memories of where I have been, where I am and where I hope to go. I want to open a lens to some of the things that I see as I go through my days, be it a drawing, a photograph, something I have read or that I have written, a quote, or whatever may find its way through my thoughts to this page.

Why?

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs, ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who are alive."

~ Howard Thurman

I read that on another blog a few days ago and I felt it summed up things rather nicely. Instead of just going through the day-to-day mechanisms of life, we should find that thing that causes us to come alive. That is what I am attempting to do; rediscover and celebrate those things cause this in me. And here, well, here is where I tell that story.

Greg

An Occasion...

On occasion you'll read a book, see a film or perhaps hear a selection of music that will have a dramatic effect on how you view life. It may be a single paragraph in the book, a single line in the film, or a single phrase in the lyric. Yet still, it has the ability to transform.

I want to share one such instance in my life.

It was a Wednesday evening, October 26 of last year, to be precise, and my wife and I had gone to the cinema to see The Way. This is a film written and directed by Emilio Estevez and starring his father, Martin Sheen. The story of The Way is of a father who must travel overseas to recover the body of his son who died while walking the pilgrim route, the El Camino de Santiago. Once there he decides to take the pilgrimage himself and through it, rekindles the relationship with his son, and more importantly, himself.

During a flashback sequence, we see Sheen's character driving his son Daniel (Estevez) to the airport so that he can leave for his pilgrimage. During the drive, Sheen (not looking at his son) says, "this is the life I have chosen." Daniel turns to his father and says, "You don't choose a life dad, you live one." This exchange, coupled with the premise of self-rediscovery, were cause for a transformative occasion in my life!

You see, all too often I would be focused on a destination; a goal. This is not to say that having a destination or a goal is a bad. To the contrary, they are not. Nor are having dreams for what may lie ahead in a near or distant future. However, when the drive towards a destination or the pursuit of a goal obscures or takes away the adventure of the journey, then something is out of balance. This has been my life.

I have spent most of my life looking ahead to what I hoped the next thing to be; to what my plan was for the next month, the next year, or the next five years. Then I began consider what I know to be the truth, which is, that we are not assured our next month, our next year or that we may be able to enjoy what was to come in five years. The truth is that we are only assured of the moment that we have right now.

Does this mean that I will not look ahead? No. I will still look to the future and I will plan for things that I wish to do. My wife and I hope to return to Europe, to travel, and perhaps, to live there again someday. We have cross country train trips we have in mind that we'd like to take. There are places I wish to see that I have yet to see; Venice, Vienna, the Greek Isles, the Isle of Iona, the Grand Canyon, and the list goes on. So yes, I will still look and work towards these things. But, in doing so, I will not forego the privilege and the pleasure of this moment. I hope not to miss an occasion to experience the adventure of life now because I am focused on a later occasion that is not guaranteed.

As we look forward to the coming year and make our resolutions, I suppose you may tally this as my resolution. As it concerns my life, I resolve to live one! That may mean I enjoy stopping to take a photograph or draw a picture. It may be an evening reading a book or laying on the floor playing with the dog. It could be taking a walk with my wife or enjoying a picnic in the park. It is trying a new recipe for dinner or dining at a new restaurant. It is visiting a gallery or strolling through the botanical gardens. It is laying on my back in the yard looking at the clouds or playing with the grandchildren. It could be any number of things that have absolutely nothing to do with some future time and has everything to do with the living life in whatever moment presents itself.

I suppose you can say that in my own way, I too am on a pilgrimage. I am on my own El Camino de Santiago. Along my way I seek to find and reclaim the joy, the adventure, and the complete excitement of what it means to live!

"Buen Camino!"


Greg

A Beginning...

A new blog that explores those things that make life wonderful!