I am responding to Ed Damon’s comment, which I have changed to a question format by inserting the word, [Does] Conforming to the preset "rules" of art allow an artist to develop their own techniques.
I have never taken a formal class for visual artists (for example, a class to learn how to paint, or sculpt), but I think it is conventional for aspiring artists to copy the work of the Masters while they are in the apprenticeship phase of their training. I do not think of this practice as “conforming to the present ‘rules’ of art.” Just as, when learning to play piano, a student learns to play the work of the Masters (Mozart, Beethoven, etc.) because you cannot learn to “play” without “playing” something, so too the painter paints Cézanne, Matisse, etc., because one cannot learn to “paint” without “painting” something. In this process, I imagine the artist learns the relationship of brush to canvas much like the pianist learns the relation of hand to keys. When the keyboard is so well known it becomes a tool (the thing with which the work is done), then the artist is ready to develop individual style.
When I was learning to type in high school, I could not have thought about the style of my writing. I was so consumed with learning the hand-to-keyboard coordination required by the “qwerty” system of key placement on a typewriter, there was no room left for artistic pursuit. It took several years before the typewriter keyboard (and by extension, my computer keyboard) became so second nature to me that I could use it as a tool to write creatively. I think the same is true for pianists, painters, and other members of the visual and/or performing arts. You must first master the tools of the craft before it is possible to advance to considerations of individual style in your art.
QUESTION: When I looked up the meaning of "aesthetics" at dictionary.com, I got several hits but they were all more or less equivalent: aesthetics is that branch of philosophy which studies the nature of "beauty." After the discussion in class today (Wed 2/25), I substituted "study of the nature of beauty" for "aesthetic" in Clive Bell's essay and it doesn't make sense. What do you think Clive Bell meant by the word "aesthetic" ?
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
RECONSIDERING FREUD
For me, the discussions in class on Freud’s theory of art have been stimulating to the point of overload. It has been an interesting process attempting to tease out objective consideration from personal bias (leaving me with the notion that it may be humanly impossible to do so).
Until now, Freud has represented the classic “Catch 22” paradox for me: it doesn’t matter what you choose, your choice is controlled by your past which is filled with sexual repression. I realize that is a grossly oversimplified (and somewhat biased) POV, but there you have it. That’s what I’ve held as my personal opinion about Freud’s theory of psychoanalysis, and I’ve long believed he is categorically wrong. By extension, his theory on art must be wrong too, right? Wrong!
I began to temper my POV on Freud (however unwillingly), and considered that he may have started out in the right direction, but later became so consumed with sexual repression and shame, it tainted most, if not all, of his general theories. For certain, I can find no argument against the position that “imaginative creation, like day-dreaming, is a continuation of and substitute for the play of childhood.” (Wartenberg, p. 115)
My own creative writing bears witness to this POV: nothing I currently “do” in my life is more fun-filled and care-free in its motivation and intent. However, I do not find the writing process playful, in the sense that children play without inhibition or judgment. When I am first getting the story on paper, using some version of the “free writing” method, that phase of the creative process is, for me, fairly free of inhibition and judgment. But then, in the repetitious rewrites (which is also creative writing as opposed to editing), as the story is honed, refining my choice and order of words, putting the final touches on the pictures the words paint, my conscious decisions to include this, delete that, reword this idea, color this passage with a different shade of meaning – all of this part of the creative process is replete with inhibition and judgment, and no doubt influenced by the myriad experiences and resolutions of conflict in my life up to the day of writing, exposing the core of “me” to my reader, if the reader has the sensitivity to recognize it (and not all of them will). Here, I do not believe that creative writing is a continuation of nor is it a substitute for childhood play (I think “birthing” is a more appropriate metaphor). But, in fairness, I must also point out that I do not think Freud was referring to this part of the writing process in his statement quoted above. “Imaginative creation” sounds to me closer to the “free writing” method, the first laying down of the story, the initial development of characters, the early outlines of plot (in deference to Aristotle who insisted on a beginning, a middle, and an end). In these activities, I agree, Freud seems to have nailed the essence of the art (at least, insofar as writing is considered art).
The social implications of this aspect of Freud’s POV on art, as outlined by Professor Johnson in class, are important not only to recognize, but also to motivate a demand for and the implementation of change. I grew up in the generation of “The Organization Man,” when IBM was setting the bar (in the mid-1950s) for what success would look like in the United States. Workaholics are the by-product of that business plan, and I think it is significant that my Word spell-checker recognizes “workaholic” as a valid English word. For more diverse reasons than IBM’s influence on American society, I never learned to play as an adult; in fact, I stopped playing long before my 18th birthday. I have had to teach myself (to the extent that it is possible) to be playful, and to give myself permission to “do” something based solely on the fact that doing it is enjoyable. So I can appreciate, on a very personal level, how critical it is to expose the fallacies in the workaholic’s POV.
It was no coincidence (IMO) that a de-emphasis of the arts paralleled an emphasis of the sciences during the years of the Cold War. The influence of that choice plagues our educational system to this day. So it was no surprise that the first thing to be attacked in the President’s Recovery and Stimulus Plan was money to be spent on education. But, I digress ...
Getting back to Freud, on p. 112, Freud states “happy people never make phantasies, only unsatisfied ones. Unsatisfied wishes are the driving power behind phantasies; every separate phantasy contains the fulfillment of a wish, and improves on unsatisfactory reality.” This statement seems to be in conflict with the idea that imaginative creation (phantasy) is a continuation of childhood play. By extension, we must either conclude that all artists are unhappy people, or that one of these two statements is false.
QUESTION: Do you think art is an expression of an unfulfilled wish in an attempt by the artist to improve on an unsatisfactory reality?
Until now, Freud has represented the classic “Catch 22” paradox for me: it doesn’t matter what you choose, your choice is controlled by your past which is filled with sexual repression. I realize that is a grossly oversimplified (and somewhat biased) POV, but there you have it. That’s what I’ve held as my personal opinion about Freud’s theory of psychoanalysis, and I’ve long believed he is categorically wrong. By extension, his theory on art must be wrong too, right? Wrong!
I began to temper my POV on Freud (however unwillingly), and considered that he may have started out in the right direction, but later became so consumed with sexual repression and shame, it tainted most, if not all, of his general theories. For certain, I can find no argument against the position that “imaginative creation, like day-dreaming, is a continuation of and substitute for the play of childhood.” (Wartenberg, p. 115)
My own creative writing bears witness to this POV: nothing I currently “do” in my life is more fun-filled and care-free in its motivation and intent. However, I do not find the writing process playful, in the sense that children play without inhibition or judgment. When I am first getting the story on paper, using some version of the “free writing” method, that phase of the creative process is, for me, fairly free of inhibition and judgment. But then, in the repetitious rewrites (which is also creative writing as opposed to editing), as the story is honed, refining my choice and order of words, putting the final touches on the pictures the words paint, my conscious decisions to include this, delete that, reword this idea, color this passage with a different shade of meaning – all of this part of the creative process is replete with inhibition and judgment, and no doubt influenced by the myriad experiences and resolutions of conflict in my life up to the day of writing, exposing the core of “me” to my reader, if the reader has the sensitivity to recognize it (and not all of them will). Here, I do not believe that creative writing is a continuation of nor is it a substitute for childhood play (I think “birthing” is a more appropriate metaphor). But, in fairness, I must also point out that I do not think Freud was referring to this part of the writing process in his statement quoted above. “Imaginative creation” sounds to me closer to the “free writing” method, the first laying down of the story, the initial development of characters, the early outlines of plot (in deference to Aristotle who insisted on a beginning, a middle, and an end). In these activities, I agree, Freud seems to have nailed the essence of the art (at least, insofar as writing is considered art).
The social implications of this aspect of Freud’s POV on art, as outlined by Professor Johnson in class, are important not only to recognize, but also to motivate a demand for and the implementation of change. I grew up in the generation of “The Organization Man,” when IBM was setting the bar (in the mid-1950s) for what success would look like in the United States. Workaholics are the by-product of that business plan, and I think it is significant that my Word spell-checker recognizes “workaholic” as a valid English word. For more diverse reasons than IBM’s influence on American society, I never learned to play as an adult; in fact, I stopped playing long before my 18th birthday. I have had to teach myself (to the extent that it is possible) to be playful, and to give myself permission to “do” something based solely on the fact that doing it is enjoyable. So I can appreciate, on a very personal level, how critical it is to expose the fallacies in the workaholic’s POV.
It was no coincidence (IMO) that a de-emphasis of the arts paralleled an emphasis of the sciences during the years of the Cold War. The influence of that choice plagues our educational system to this day. So it was no surprise that the first thing to be attacked in the President’s Recovery and Stimulus Plan was money to be spent on education. But, I digress ...
Getting back to Freud, on p. 112, Freud states “happy people never make phantasies, only unsatisfied ones. Unsatisfied wishes are the driving power behind phantasies; every separate phantasy contains the fulfillment of a wish, and improves on unsatisfactory reality.” This statement seems to be in conflict with the idea that imaginative creation (phantasy) is a continuation of childhood play. By extension, we must either conclude that all artists are unhappy people, or that one of these two statements is false.
QUESTION: Do you think art is an expression of an unfulfilled wish in an attempt by the artist to improve on an unsatisfactory reality?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
