Art As Life

It is easy to see that Art is a personal definition and that good Art is truly in the eye and ear of the beholder. I tend to bend toward the most inclusive definition -- perhaps the equivalent of the "universal field theory" of forces and gravity which Mr.Einstein tried to define. That which is true for all and true everywhere in the universe, were we there to witness it.

It could be a watercolor of the Orion Nebula but it is the real photo by Hubble telescope of the majestic astronomical assemblage. Few could argue that it is not art -- meets my criteria: "A presentation which is experienced through one or more of the senses and creates an emotional reaction as the result of it's intrigue or beauty". (I patiently await Art through the sense of smell!)
This is my working definition and includes presentations made by human or nature.



The trim at the top of these flying buttresses exists only as weight in the functional sense. The buttress holds the walls vertical on this church since the angular roof tends to push out on the walls causing an imbalance. These beautiful carvings in stone, to me, are an artful addition to the building even though they serve the function of weight. Thus art need not be "non-essential".
To quote a definition in the OED (Oxford English Dictionary): Art can be "The skillful production of the beautiful in visible forms" -- even if the universe produces it.

I will concede, though, that as music drifts through my mind and raises spirits it has no other purpose than to exist and flow through.






A definition which intrigued me though is as follows: "Art is a revelatory expression of a supportive nature that balances human tendency for logical criticism". Pretty much catches it if we could just watch and witness.

ART

Pictographs on Newspaper Rock in Canyonlands, Utah.
Historians credit some of the etchings, through black "desert varnish" on sandstone, to those living and passing through the area as far back as 2000 years up to when the park service put up a fence to keep us from continuing the tradition of leaving messages on this rock.
It is a pretty area with trees and a stream in a small valley in the middle of Utah rocky desert (my photo); many probably wandered through in the past seeking water.
I like the guy in the middle that looks like Bart Simpson!
There is an image of a person on a horse shooting an elk or deer in the butt with a long arrow in upper right part of the rock. Horses were introduced here by the Spanish about 1650, so this etching is fairly current. It is believed that the Utes (from which comes "Utah") were the first to have the horse and by early 1700s all tribes had access to the horse for transportation or food.


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But the main question on my mind though is "what is ART?". A recent query of 27 people in Kansas City in preparation for an art fair yielded a range of responses as printed in the KC Star. My favorite was from Julie and Gary White who answered "The guy that makes those potato chips". I don't know this guy but perhaps he is Art.

Is a beautiful natural view of the moon rising over Half Dome in Yosemite ART or does Ansel Adams have to photograph it in black and white, reproduce it on paper, and hang it on the wall, for it to become art? (Is a beautiful view in the mountains art if no one sees it? -- An arty koan)

The last time I was in an Art Museum I heard no music, read no poems, saw no books , and witnessed no chimes or moving objects except for those displayed by digital expression on a screen. What to make of this?
I consider all of these expressions to have the potential to move me emotionally or visually -- part of my definition but maybe not all of it. I guess remaining would be that art would have to come from someone as an expression of their view or feel of life. This would eliminate those paintings by animal tails dipped in paint or the spinning disk with paint dropped on, at the County Fairs.
It would also eliminate nature not painted or photographed ---- which bothers me. I can find an emotional or visual response in myself with a view in the woods, not reproduced.
So, still a question . . .








"Root Ubris" by Andrey Lev
via moon river
(Oil and markers and poliontan on masonite)

I like this art because of the detail and possibility for engagement.

I shall include it in my definition

Thanks Princess

Tiny Dancers

(click photo for detail)

“Zazen on Ching-t’ing Mountain”:

The birds have vanished down the sky.
Now the last cloud drains away.
We sit together, the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains.

This is a short poem attributed to Li Bai, an 8th century Chinese poet, and expresses the Buddhist idea of impermanence perfectly. Just a reminder, zazen is a form of meditation where one just sits silently.

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Attempting to say a few words about change in poetical form, I discovered that many have expressed such, in fewer better words and long in the past.

Fall is upon us and the winter chill will soon be here to cause the end of another season of growth and beauty in the natural world. I attempt to freeze the summer's flowers where no atmospheric changes can destroy them.

But the rebirth will happen; we will see them again in the next incarnation.

And it goes . . .

Lost Soul

Cafe Griensteidl in Vienna

(not my photo)




COFFEE AND WATER

A hundred times a day, he says,
“I’ll have to return. Here, there is no mercy.
There, there is kindness and warmth and …”
Then he falls silent.

I ask him, “There?
Where is that?”
He points somewhere.
His face is expressionless,
and he does not say anything anymore.

I take his hand.
We go to a café
and sit down at a quiet corner table.
I order coffee for him
and water for me.

I speak to him in Arabic
and mix water into the coffee.
He is annoyed, “Are you crazy?”

He tries to remove the water
from the coffee.

He tries to.

He tries to get the water back
into the water.

Vienna, Café Griensteidl, June 27th, 1997
by Tarek Eltayeb


(translated from the German by Wolfgang Astelbauer;
from “Ein mit Tauben und Gurren gefüllter Koffer,” edition selene, Vienna 1999)

Tarek Eltayeb was born in Cairo in 1959, the son of Sudanese parents. He studied Business Administration at Ain Shams University in Cairo and at Vienna University of Economics and Business Administration. He has been living in Vienna since 1984, and is currently teaches at the International Management Center / University of Applied Sciences in Krems, Austria and at the University of Graz.



Found this poem on the poets against war website of all places, and it drew me immediately. I don't know why I pictured that the dreamer was an old fellow, but I did and still do. Perhaps he is thinking of the old world of his past in another country where he grew up and was happy but it is no more --- all are gone; but just because he speaks Arabic doesn't mean that he couldn't be thinking of another life, another time where there was mercy, kindness and warmth and . . .
It is sad that he cannot return, cannot get the water out of the coffee and back to its proper place. But sadder still is that he cannot be in that coffee shop looking around and realizing that this is where he is, and how great it is to be alive.
But I probably change the intent of the words?

Maybe it's that you just shouldn't fool with an old guy's coffee!



Some kinds of poetry have always baffled me: seems as if the old uncertainty principle may apply, as the closer you get to the subject the more it is influenced by your being there. Differing meanings appear as you change perspective based on your experiences rather than those of the writer. Then I think that maybe that is the whole idea!












(not mine either!)