Art: Magical Mystery or Definable Beauty?

I was listening to a recent Radiolab podcast (March 19th's "The Turing Problem") the other day, and one of the concepts that was discussed on the show really struck me. By the way, if you don't know what Radiolab is, please stop reading this blog right now and go educate yourself. The question that caught my attention was "are humans anything more than machines?" and if they aren't, what are the implications of this fact for humanity?

One of the commentators, author James Gleick, explored this notion by commenting that even if we are machines, this fact doesn't necessarily diminish any art we create, whether it's a beautiful song or a painting.  It doesn't matter if we are machines, as long as we still have a sense of mystery about how we create that art. Addressing the question posed by host, Robert Krulwich, "…if I built you a computer that could create equally beautiful watercolors and equally beautiful musical composition [to those created by human artists], would you feel happier, or diminished?" Gleick answers,

"I think in a way you’re asking is that if you see how the trick is done, does it then vanish?  Does it just become a trick – the trick being a great painting or a great piece of music? I feel the art I love is always art that I don’t fully understand. There’s some mystery there, always. I don’t quite fathom it [...] And when the machine produces music that is as lovely as the music that you and I love, I believe it will still be unfathomable."

I found this answer to be particularly interesting because of the effect it had on me: initially, I wholeheartedly agreed, and upon analysis, it all fell apart.  To reduce "beauty" and the act of classifying "art" to something being simply "mysterious" and "unfathomable" is a notion I find myself a bit weary of; it implies that we shouldn't try to understand something, and if we understand it, we will no longer appreciate it, and it will cease to be art.   

Why do we need to not understand something for it to be beautiful? To understand something is to destroy it?  And of course Gleick covers his bases by saying that true art will ultimately be mysterious no matter what, we won't be able to figure it out.  And I think, again, that's a little ridiculous.  It goes against a lot of things I believe about writing and about other forms of art- mostly that it can be analyzed and understood as a process.   

To argue that true art cannot be understood is to also imply that true art cannot be deliberately created.  I think to say that understanding the concepts behind photography and then taking a photo with those concepts in mind- to say that that would impede an individual from creating a piece of art implies that the only true art is created by ingénues or created spontaneously without knowledge or just with some sort of deep inherent knowledge and without any discussion of the process, and in some ways, this is an extremely anti-intellectual, anti-academic argument. And, as much as academia can sometimes miss the point through over analysis, I think it's an important element of all of our forms of art, of all of our culture, and all of humanity- the analytical element.

If we don't seek to understand art (to figure out why The Great Gatsby seems so perfect, why Gotye's "Somebody That I Used to Know" is so catchy, or why Degas' "Waiting" is so haunting), and if we are content to classify it as mysterious magic only, what else will be content with not looking at more deeply? Culture? Humanity? The universe?  Art is not some inherent ability that is bestowed upon only a select few at birth and that the rest of us can only look on in awe.  Nothing is too beautiful to be understood and through understanding, beauty is not diminished, but reaffirmed.    

Building Your Writing Toolkit: Part one – Know how you Start to Write.

Everyone writes differently: some people sit down at a blank page and dump a poem or essay out with little effort (at least for a first draft) while others require laborious research and planning to get even so much as a title on the page. Some people have an innate grasp of dialogue, while others would prefer to never deal with how people speak to each other. No matter how or what you write, though, there are certain things that help you reach the end game of your writing (i.e., anything that you consider finished). In light of that, I’m going to talk about what I’ve started calling my Writing Toolkit, offering suggestions about how you might be able to get your tools in order to facilitate your writing process. This will be an ongoing blog, with probably 7 posts to create a toolkit that will make your life easier as a writer.

Know how you start to write.
The first thing you need when you’re writing is knowledge of how you begin writing – this may seem a bit paradoxical but it’s true; until you know how you start you’ll have trouble creating ideal situations for your writing. Do you plan, plot and ponder or do you skip, skid and slide your way into the writing project you’re working on – either way you need to know you get going in order to hone your skill.

Minimal planning:

I write and plan mostly in my head. I know that it doesn’t really help me to sit down at a computer and force out a document if I don’t really have it planned in my head – the piece will feel forced and I won’t be happy with it. That being said, I do sometimes plan on paper, especially if a project is important or has a very broad span – in these cases a rough plan will keep me on track and give me something to refer to when I get stuck.

A typical plan for an essay for me might look like this:
Thesis: Ben Franklin wasn’t just a selfish bastard or a selfless altruist, but managed to incorporate altruism with self-service.
Proof: Ben Franklin as a selfish bastard (takes advantage of situations he creates) **One or two Examples**
Ben Franklin as an altruist (gives up copyrights for the betterment of a large segment of society)**One or two Examples**
Ben Franklin’s altruism as self-serving (encouraging paper currency as a printer, manipulating the throne while making money for local wagon owners, starting up businesses and taking a large percentage, etc.)**Majority of Proofs >10**
Conclusion: Ben Franklin was a lot more complicated than most history classes are willing to admit.

While a typical outline for a long short story or a short novel might look like this:
I – Intro to antagonist – position of strength, likeable
II – Intro to universe
III – Intro to protagonist – prickly, somewhat weak
A. Protagonist in Universe
IV – Protagonist backslides
A. The universe sucks and is hard to handle.
V – Pro. Vs Ant. – Pro growth, snaps out of problem.
VI – Pro wins by making space in universe, ignoring problems posed by Ant.
VII – Ant. Pissy about Pro, can’t do anything about it.
A. The universe sucks and is hard to handle when you’re a dick.
(It should now be clear that I prefer anti-heroes.)

These plans might look somewhat contradictory – an essay is only going to be 5000 words or less while a short novel might be 100 pages, but both plans are about the same length; the reason for this, with my writing in particular, is that I write specifics in my head – the characters are usually formed before I start a piece so I don’t need to make notes to myself about them, and I usually don’t start writing fiction without a central conflict planned in my head so there’s no need to write that out either.

Intensive planning:

But what if you are a consummate planner, what if you need detailed outlines to get from one paragraph to the next? The key here is to not let yourself get trapped in a plan –especially not early in the writing process.

I knew a hardcore Planner in college – she planned from the beginning of the quarter until the final period on her final essay, and she wrote terrible essays. Why? If she planned so meticulously, shouldn’t she have gotten better grades? No – because she planned before she knew what she was planning. If you are going to meticulously plan your writing, don’t write your plan until AFTER you’ve done your research.

Let’s take my Benjamin Franklin essay as an example, and modify it to fit this girl’s methods:
Thesis: Benjamin Franklin was a brilliant founding father and was also a consummate altruist, sacrificing his inventions and time to the public good.
Proof: Giving away the patent for the Franklin Stove
A.B.C….
Forming the Fire Department
A.B.C…
Forming the Police Department/Neighborhood Watch
A.B.C…
Planning the Sweeping of the Streets
A.B.C…
Planning the Lighting of the Streets
A.B.C….
Serving as a Diplomat instead of continuing in business
A.B.C…
Volunteering to take public positions, but not in position of power.
A.B.C…
Conclusion: Benjamin Franklin did a lot of good for America at his own expense, and selflessly served this country in its formative years.

Now, all of this is true, Ben Franklin did all of these things and he did them well – so why doesn’t the girl get a good grade on her essay? Because that’s only half of the truth – there’s a lot of evidence that Ben Franklin did most of what he did because he was a selfish prick who wanted to control people whom he thought were too stupid to control themselves. While our Planner was researching, she came across this information, she was well aware of the very strong counter-argument to her thesis, but she ignored it why? Even though she wrote on a different topic, I asked these questions of her (I had helped her with some research and found counter-arguments that she wholly ignored) and thus can give you a direct quote: “Well, all that stuff didn’t fit in with the essay I had planned on writing, so I didn’t put it in because it would change my argument too much.”

Planners out there: do your research before you plan.
Everyone out there: don’t plan your initial research.

You should go into a piece with an open mind – if you’re outlining a story or planning an essay, make sure you’re allowing reality to shape your work – pushing too hard to make a piece work when it simply doesn’t only leads to heartbreak.

Another example: Once I wrote a short story – it was a Science Fiction story and I thought it was pretty cool. I had some of my friends look it over, and they liked it, but one of my friends (who happened to be an intern at JPL at the time) was blessedly blunt with me about it: “Alli, the science is wrong. Space travel doesn’t work like that.” I tried to get around it, to change parts of the story, to make the story conform to science that didn’t fit and it made the story worse. I scrapped the story, re-wrote it with the reliance on space travel significantly minimized, and it made the story better.

No planning:

So let’s say you just sit down and freewrite – you let the words pour out and you hit “print” whenever your fingers have stopped moving for more than five minutes – what do you need in order to do better at the beginning? Well, it’s not the beginning you probably need help with, it’s the end.

If you don’t plan your writing, you need to rewrite your freewrites.

You may have noticed is that I don’t list plans for my poetry or short stories: the reason for this is that I don’t plan poetry or short stories – I write them in my head, rewrite them on paper, rewrite them on a computer, then do one or two more drafts before I’m satisfied, usually making only minor changes in the last three drafts – what you should note is that I make at least three drafts: I don’t care who the hell you think you are, but you should be doing the same – drafting at least once or twice to ensure a better product.

Freewriting is a great exercise, and it serves as a good illustration of what potential is evident in an idea, but freewrites aren’t final products.

If you are a freewriter, before you hit “print” you should go through your text a few times: check for grammar errors, check for places where the structure is weak, check that the whole coheres, and check a few more times for good measure. It’s no good to have written something that has brilliant elements if it’s riddled with non-sequiturs; there’s no point in displaying your beautiful control of language if your writing doesn’t have a message (thesis, theme, moral – whatever – there has to be some kind of payout other than beautiful language – even if it is a poem); there’s no value in making an excellent point of the language you use to express it is broken and incomprehensible. Rewrite. Rewrite. Rewrite.

This goes for everyone, but non-planners especially need to pay special attention to their work in order to ensure that it can be understood and appreciated by your audience.

Anyway, that went a hell of a lot longer than I expected (my non-planning side in evidence) so I’m going to cut it off now: I’ll be back on Sunday, February 5th with my next toolkit tip – How do you write Best?

Until then, figure out how you start and let me know what you think.

Cheers,
Alli.

Depression. Yay.

"Well, to be honest, I'm feeling kinda depressed"

-The depressed whale

Sylvia Plath put her head in an oven, Hunter S. Thompson and Hemingway put shotguns to theirs, Fitzgerald killed himself with alcohol. And those are just the ones who come immediately to mind. It bothers me immensely to contemplate how many of the great artists and thinkers have suffered to the point of desiring to entirely blot out their own consciousness. A study was conducted over the span of ten years that found “between 59 and 77 percent of the artists, writers, and musicians suffered mental illness especially "mood disorders," compared to just 18 to 29 percent in the less artistic professionals” (Reynolds).

I’ve been thinking a lot about this, about depression and the artistic/academic temperament. “Artistic” and “academic” are not commonly paired in such a manner, and I’m sure many people would take issue with said pairing. However, I place them together here because academics, at least in the humanities, are appreciators of art and certainly dedicate a majority of their lives to the study of art, whatever their art form of choice may be. So, in this way, artists and academics spend their lives in the service of art, either by means of creation or examination.

Considering the suicide rate and carelessness rate (and by that I mean accidental overdose) among artists and intellectuals, I think we can easily see the connection between depression and the people who spend their lives in service to art. But, why is this so? Why is it that the people who create the most beautiful and moving renderings of reality are also the ones who suffer the most mental pain? I think it is often mistakenly believed to be the fault of solitude. People are quick to point out the isolationist and misanthropic tendencies of artists and intellectuals. And there is something to that notion. Often, intellectuals, in their skepticism, deprive themselves of opportunities for community. However, I don’t think this isolation is the primary culprit.

It is a lack of ignorance that causes depression. And when I say “ignorance,” I stress “ignore.” The purpose of art is to examine the world; it does not allow for ignorance. In order to create art, you have to face the world and humanity and all of their flaws, head on. If you hide under the covers, you won't see a thing and you won't have a thing to write about. And if you appreciate art and study it, you are spending your time with commentary on the world, and again, this does not allow for ignorance or hiding from reality.

People say that artists and readers are cut off from the world, but nothing could be further from the truth. Artists (and I'm thinking specifically of writers) and readers (and all other appreciators and consumers of art) are by no means cut off from the world; in fact, they are the only ones who are fully engaged in it, the only ones who are taking the time to really look at it.

In Midnight in Paris the character of Gertrude Stein says, “The artist’s job is not to succumb to despair but to find an antidote for the emptiness of existence.” (I hate to quote a character of a literary figure, rather than the literary figure herself, but it’s a great quotation!) Considering how many dark and depressing tales the great artists have created, I’m reluctant to fully agree with this statement. After all, so many artists seem to succumb to despair. But maybe, whether they succumb or not, all great artists also find/create “an antidote.” Maybe even something like The Bell Jar, in all its gloominess, is, in its beauty, the perfect medicine for the illness of emptiness. That story, and all other great ones I can think of, does not send a message of hopelessness- it sends a message of truth. It is not cheesy or falsely hopeful or even defeatist. It is honest- life is difficult and we don’t ever know what’s waiting around the corner. Art, if it is truly great, will always be a variation of that message and it’s a message that by its very expression brings despair and comfort, as does anything worth experiencing.

Until next time,

Leena

Reynolds, Susan. “Is Depression Inevitable for Artists and Creative People?” Gather.com. 19 Feb 2006. Web. 23 Jan 2012.

http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.action?articleId=281474976731117

"The Depressed Whale." http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_dEtaNx2Vc

Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before

Hello everyone, I come to you this evening as a man who seeks to speak plainly. Instead of my signature prolixity, I aim to offer a few personal truths spoken as honestly as I once did.

As you have probably noticed, a few of us editors have decided to share our personal academic histories, all with the intent of enforcing the point that, despite previous engagement - or lack there of - in education, there is always a moment where things can be turned around. And although this moment is better coming sooner rather than later, the main importance is that it comes at all.

When I was an elementary school lad, I obsessed over the quality of my work, I gave great thought to my reputation with my fellow classmates and instructors alike. This continued until about 7th grade, the grade where I - to put it nicely - lost sync with myself. I found all of my assignments dull and exasperating, and decided not to complete them. Believe it or not, the only interest I had in school was science (go figure). I participated in science fair competitions and won first place in district, county and state competitions, and one year even won first prize in the Discovery Channel National Science Fair (first prize was a large savings bond and an entire week vacation in San Francisco where I would get to meet the Mythbusters, ya, how awesome is that?!) Aside from that, I also competed in "Botball" robotics competitions and made it to 3 national competitions (why they were in Oklahoma is still beyond me). Now I know what you are thinking, "what does this guy mean he lost it? Compared to Jack, he is a model student!" Well, I suppose in some ways you would be right, but everything really hit the fan when I was in high school. Like Jack, I was in I.B. everything, and hated nearly every minute of it, mainly because I hated all the teachers (especially the English ones). I had become so accustom to leaving everything to the last minute and not caring if I even had a test the next day, they never really hurt your grade anyway, how could it in a class that had 2,000 points for a quarter? This trend continued: failing notices, progress reports, make up assignments, emails flying back and forth between my mom and the teachers, emotional mixtures of apathy and guilt, all the while somehow making B's and C's (I'm convinced Jack and I are born under the same sign or something, its the only excuse), it was terrible. Believe it or not, this lasted until SENIOR YEAR of high school! I was in a quandary about what to do with my life (my love of science having worn off somewhere between 9th and 10th). I forced myself to sit down and really meditate on what I enjoyed, and what my natural abilities were/are. I began to realize that, if I thought back to all the great memories of my childhood, adolescence, and on up, almost all of them came back to literature: the excitement of the elementary school library, my mom bringing home the new installment of the Lemony Snicket series for me to read, staying up nights to find out just how these characters, who, in ways, I felt closer to than any of my other friends, would escape the next trap or solve the next riddle. That realization in mind, and the thought that a future which would allow me to pursue what I loved was right in front of me if only I applied myself, compelled me to achieve good grades and to truly attain knowledge so that I could have a future. I know it sounds cheesy to say that from that moment on everything was different, I started caring about my academics, about my place in things, etc., but its the truth, and from then on I have always made it my purpose to excel in my pursuits, which, I can is something I have succeeded in.

So, again, if you take anything away from the overly sentimental stuff above, it is this: Do not be afraid to take action over your life. Act wisely and decisively, Think earnestly upon matters which concern you. Only then will you begin to find true fulfillment. As I said before, its best for this to be done sooner rather than later, so take my advice and the advice of the other editors who have so openly blogged about this. Learn from our mistakes (my god I've suddenly turned into my grandmother) and don't be afraid to do a little soul searching. The moment you stop being able to surprise yourself is the day you lose worth.

To Dr. Easley & Mrs. Bickford, two very special ladies - E. W. Strege