This short animated clip taken from the lectures of Jordan Peterson, sums up the long term value of art to a society, the necessity of investing in the work of artists we admire, and the power of art to connect us as finite and limited creatures to the transcendent, providing us with the strength to prevail.
His cry to us all – BUY A PIECE OF ART !!
You can find more videos like this at Jordan Peterson Animation.
Brutalist architecture, or Brutalism, is an architectural style which emerged in the mid-20th century. It is characterized by simple, block-like structures and bare building materials such as exposed concrete and brick.
The term “Brutalism” was coined in association with béton brut, meaning raw concrete in French. The style descended from the modernist architecture of the turn of the century and embodied an architectural philosophy which was often associated with a socialist utopian ideology: by a desire to improve the condition of every member of society, by peaceful means, and endeavor, by small experiments.
Close to home for me, examples of the Brutalist style are Queensland Art Gallery and more famous global icons include the Barbican Centre and National Theatre in London, UK and Boston City Hall, USA.
It gained momentum in the United Kingdom during the 1950s as economically depressed, World War II-ravaged, communities sought inexpensive construction and design for housing, shopping centres, and government buildings. However, the movement as a whole, has drawn a range of criticism including from Charles, Prince of Wales, who denounced Brutalist structures as,
“piles of concrete”.
Indeed the style is unappealing due to its “cold” appearance, and association of the buildings with urban decay. The forms can project an atmosphere of totalitarianism while the concrete easily becomes streaked with water stains, moss and lichens, and rust stains from the steel reinforcing bars. Cladding can be applied to improve the appearance of the exterior however has increased fire risks; as exemplified in the 2017 Grenfell Tower fire disaster.
How can architecture modeled on a philosophy of utopian desire to improve society, become so dystopian?
In his essay ‘The Feeling of Things: Towards an Architecture of Emotions‘, Peter St. John writes,
The choice of a building’s construction, its material and its structure, has a direct effect on the emotional character of its spaces. Although discussions of construction often centre on issues of performance and technique, ultimately construction is about appearance.
Brutalist architecture is an interesting study of the intersection between philosophy, politics, history, economics and art. We humans are affected by the building we inhabit, and which make up our towns and out cities, the stories and ideologies they embody and the emotion and character of their space.
A set of 8 Claude Monet’s ‘Nympheas’ or ‘Water Lilies‘ murals are currently housed at the La Musee de l’Orangerie in Paris, a gallery which was designed in 1927, with large oval rooms particularly to display his works. Many more of the works are held in galleries around the world and are part of Monet’s largest and most famous series.
Monet painted ‘The Water Lilies‘ over a 30 year span, between 1899 to 1927 and number approximately 250 oil paintings in total. His method of painting the same scene many times grew from his desire to capture the changing of light and the passing of the seasons.
The wall murals at La Musee de l’Orangerie are so large that one should stand back several meters from the work to gain a full view and to allow the eyes to adjust to the taches of paint which up close cause the vision to blur.
The name of the era, Impressionism, is derived from the title of a Claude Monet’s early work, Impression, soleil levant (Impression, Sunrise) [below] which was exhibited in 1874 and which provoked the critic Louis Leroy to coin the term as part of a satirical review. He declared the work as nothing more than a sketch. The Impressionists indeed faced harsh opposition from the conventional art community in France who at the time championed traditional and historical subjects, religious themes, and portraits. The Académie des Beaux-Arts, preferred carefully finished images that looked realistic when examined closely, with precise brush strokes carefully blended and with muted colours.
However, as art was becoming almost photographic the invention of photography challenged the role of the artist. The development of Impressionism can be considered partly as a reaction by artists to the challenge presented by photography.
Photography encouraged painters to exploit aspects of the painting medium, like colour, which photography then lacked:
The Impressionists were the first to consciously offer a subjective alternative to the photograph.
It was painters such as Monet, Renoir, Sisley, and Bazille in the 1860s who ventured into the countryside together to paint in the open air, in sunlight, taking subjects direct from nature, and making bold use of the vivid synthetic pigments.
Photography inspired artists to pursue other means of creative expression, and rather than compete with photography to emulate reality, artists focused,
…on the one thing they could inevitably do better than the photograph—by further developing into an art form its very subjectivity in the conception of the image, the very subjectivity that photography eliminated.
These artists showed that the more we see with the eye, the less we see with the heart. To them, art was never about producing a representation of reality but of carrying on a conversation with reality, through the lens of the eye via the heart and into a form which will then create an impression in another persons eye and body and heart.
On the eve of the French Revolution, Jacques-Louis David painted the Death of Socrates [Le Mort de Socrate]. The oil on canvas work completed in 1887, focuses on the scene from Plato’s work Phaedo in which the philosopher, convicted of corrupting the youth of Athens, was sentenced to die by drinking poison hemlock.
He was given the choice of exile or death, and he boldly chose death.
Socrates actions taught his pupils that a true philosopher neither fears nor flees death, but rather faces it with the same calm he applies to life. The scene, while capturing a moment of tragic end, in fact also depicts the moment of the birth of western philosophy. Socrates death signalled the end of the reign of superstition and dogma in Greece, and the birth of rationalism and individualism.
Is it not ironic that the very men who accused Socrates of “introducing new gods” and “corrupting the youth of Athens”, by executing him, essentially killed their own traditions and saw the birth of what they feared, a radical new ideology that would transform their nation and the world.
What power is there in one man’s death to bring down his enemy’s legacy and give ascendancy to his own?
It is as though “ideas” are one’s true power, [the pen, rather than the sword?], and one’s true immortality?
Aslo on the eve of the French Revolution, Voltaire, aka François-Marie Arouet (21 November 1694 – 30 May 1778), died at the age of 84. He was an enlightenment writer whose wit and word frequently targeted intolerance, religious dogma, and other French institutions of his day.
He did not die for his beliefs, but rather ten years after his death of old age the French Revolution [1789-1799], broke out, turning France on its head. The blood thirsty rise of the common people in France saw the overthrow of the aristocracy and the institution of a republic, the abolition of slavery in French colonies, and the establishment of the French motto ‘liberty, brotherhood and equality’ [liberte, fraternite, egalite].
Interestingly, while in Socrates case, the ruling elite secured their own demise by killing the philosopher they opposed, in Voltaire’s case, the ruling elite secured their demise by ignoring the philosopher poet and his disciples, finding instead angry bourgeois with gunpowder, torches and ploughshares at their doors, and guillotines and prisons awaiting them.
Moreover, while Socrates ideas defeated his enemies ideas costing his life, one life, Voltaire’s ideas defeated his enemies, costing them their lives, thousands of lives.
What is mightier then, the power of the sword, or the pen?!
Well one may ask, what ideas bring life? One must better ask, what ideas bear good fruit, generations after they are germinated in a philosopher or poets teachings ?
Perhaps as in all legacies, time is true decider.
As written about in an earlier Bear Skin post, Jonathan Ralston-Saul’s incisive work “Voltaire’s Bastards” gives a critical analysis of the legacy of Voltaire’s writings.
Voltaire and his contemporaries believed reason was the best defense against the arbitrary power of monarchs and the superstitions of religious dogma. It was the key not only to challenge the powers of kings and aristocracies but also to creating a more just and humane society. This emphasis on reason has become central to modern thought. However, unfortunately, subsequent society bears little resemblance to the visions of the 17th and 18th century humanist thinkers.
Our ruling elites justify themselves in the name of reason, but all too often their power and methodology is based on specialised knowledge and the manipulation of “rational structures” rather than reason. The link between justice and reason has been severed and our decision-makers, bereft of a viable ethical framework have turned rational calculation into something short sighted and self-serving. This can and does lead to a directionless state that rewards the pursuit of power for power’s sake.
Moreover, we live in a society fixated on rational solutions, management, expertise and professionalism in almost all areas, from politics and economics to education and cultural affairs. The rationalism Voltaire advocates, … has led to the rise of individualism with no regard for the role of society has not created greater individual autonomy and self-determination, as was once hoped, but isolation and alienation.
Ralston-Saul called for a pursuit of a humanism in which reason is balanced with other human mental capacities such as common sense, ethics, intuition, creativity, and memory, for the sake of the common good.
The death of Socrates show us so powerfully, that ideas give or take life. Socrates did not fear the loss of his own life, because he knew that there were power and truth in his ideas, ideas which would long outlive him. In contrast, Voltaire’s ideas while enlightened, gave birth to a range of ‘children’, among them bloodshed, individualism and management as proxy for leadership, the pursuit of rational structures and of power pursuits.
On May 26, 2015 Bear Skin posted a blog about Percy Shelley’s classic poem from 1818, “Ozymandias.” The poem captures beautifully the Romantic notion of transience and decay of what was once proud and beautiful.
Having recently liked the sublime page Zen Pencils, an illustrative blog of all things inspirational, I came across this version of an illustrated Ozymandias.
It’s too good not to share. Enjoy!
It’s with pleasure we introduce another guest blog by regular Bear Skin contributor Damien Shalley:
Damien Shalley” TM is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Ultra-Precision Heavy Manufacturing Concern, Fukuoka, Japan. He owns a secret stash of the discontinued cologne “High Karate” and its successor fragrance, “Mucho Macho”. He would like to test the legal limits of the theory that all men are created equal, especially when he’s wearing his cologne. Damien Shalley is not “feeling the Bern”, but does sometimes experience a mild rash. If he owned a sinister cat, he’d call it Chairman Meow.
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Wild at Art – Visual Artist Gottfried Helnwein
by D. Shalley
(Thanks to Coco)
Vienna, Austria: one-time epicentre of European high culture, birthplace of psychoanalysis, safe ground for Nazis during the Second World War. This unique milieu created (and continues to create) a distinct sensibility within the Austrian national character. Less precise than the Germans, more artful than the Swiss, highly aware of the past yet forthright defenders of their independent future, Austria today is a wealthy nation with an important role in the modern European Union. Yet students of history who visit the country often describe it as eerie – almost like a historical haunted house – a physical representation of the darkness at the heart of the human condition. Visitors can feel the ghosts of “old Europe” roaming. They are present in the architecture, in the monuments, in the confronting history. And from such frighteningly fertile ground, great art grows.
Gottfried Helnwein is Austria’s most successful modern art identity and a major celebrity on the global art stage. He has been described as the artistic manifestation of Austria’s post-World War Two social anxiety, confronting hidden guilt and exposing it to unflatteringly bright daylight. He involves himself in many different forms of visual art; oil and watercolour paintings (including portraiture and landscapes), drawings, photography, installations, and even theatre and film. He is noted for his photo-realistic oil paintings, as well as his expressionist pieces using acrylic and ink. He became well-known for photographic prints featuring celebrity subjects and is regarded as a stylistic influence on modern rock video imagery. The predominant theme of his work is the intersection of purity and corruption, where goodness and guiltlessness are confronted or co-opted by an often disguised evil. A signature theme of his work is the approach of malevolence towards an unknowing child – innocence meets the armband.
Much has been made of the fact that Helnwein grew up in post-World War 2 Vienna, in a German-speaking country that collaborated with the Nazis and witnessed terrible atrocities. He acts as a tour guide through realms of unnecessary human sadness and also chronicles how easily beauty can be destroyed. He is a perceptive documentarian, contrasting the banality of evil with the innate beauty of goodness. This beauty is easily damaged, often severely, but it retains unmistakable nobility. A pre-eminent motif is his use of stylised military looks and the sense of authority these impart. He leaves viewers to determine for themselves the moral implications of the imagery.
Many of Helnwein’s painted works are unusual in that they feature a photo-realistic style most identified with classical art, a style that fell away almost completely in the modern era. After the invention of the camera, artists chose not to depict (this task was now redundant), but rather to express. Techniques other than direct, naturalistic representations of a subject were favoured. As such, a new art movement was born – “Expressionism.” Helnwein, however, manages to straddle both worlds comfortably. His striking “classical” representations, particularly of children’s faces, are noteworthy because they are uncommon. The seldom-seen becomes the cause célèbre. And yet he also freely creates expressionist works, typically mixed media pieces on canvas using acrylic and ink. (Ironically, he often also uses a camera for this purpose). Helnwein is so proficient in this style that he was once described as the heir to throne of European expressionism. Either way, he is capable of delivering a jolt to audiences – sometimes one of joy at beauty, sometimes one of shuddering recognition that innocence is always at risk of predation and that evil can appear before us in disguised forms.
One of Helnwein’s most famous and evocative works is “Epiphany 1 – Adoration of the Magi”. (This is one of three “Epiphany” works, but it is the most well-known). It is an astoundingly beautiful and simultaneously chilling work, overtly referencing famous German and Dutch nativity scenes. However in Helnweins’s painting, the baby Jesus is not being offered tributes by wise Magi. Instead, he is surrounded by S.S. officers (the Waffen S.S. operated in Austria to horrifying effect). The infant they admire is a strong-willed child, alert and knowing. Mary is depicted as an idealised Aryan, a perfect Germanic female. The child is standing, his pose is determined. The officers offer him adulation – the Reich has its’ Fuhrer. The piece was instantly controversial due to a misguided belief that it represented a tribute to Nazi ideals, whereas it was actually an attempt to skewer such ideology. The Simon Wiesenthal centre praised the work.
“Epiphany I – Adoration of the Magi”
“Epiphany III – Presentation in the Temple” is more obvious but equally sinister. The “Epiphany” pieces were created between 1996 and 1998 and obliquely represent a repudiation of Nazi ideology.
Helnwein’s eerie “Mickey”, a gigantic portrait of the Disney mouse, is one of his signature pieces. It puts a subtly disturbing spin on an iconic character. This is Mickey as a symbol of “corporate paedophilia”, an antiseptically clean yet totally duplicitous creation. This Mickey consumes your childhood and infects your future. Mickey is depicted in greyscale, perhaps in the way an adult might perceive a faded childhood memory. He is a representation of the past, of childhood innocence. But his smile is sinister. Helnwein’s Mickey is the representation of your “now”, the terrifying reality of your oppressive adulthood and your eventual extinction. Helnwein’s work reminds us that, all along, Mickey has hinted at the things to come. We were just too consumed by his omnipresent, corporate-funded charms to pay attention.
“Mickey”
Fascist symbols: overt and covert?
In his early career, Helnwein created a watercolour painting entitled “Peinlich”. It depicts an innocent baby girl holding a comic book. She is pretty and doll-like, but a horrible cut deforms her face. It destroys her beauty and along with it, her future. Her adulthood won’t be Disney-esque. “Mickey” and “Peinlich” share undeniable artistic DNA. Interestingly, it is common to hear Euro-Disney World referred to by locals as “Mouse-chwitz”.
“Peinlich”
Helnwein also exhibits fine art photography and has ventured into portraiture, working with commercial rock acts like Rammstein and Marilyn Manson. He became so famous in his native land that he moved to Ireland in 1997 to escape public attention. (He still lives there today with his family – in a castle no less). Primarily a European art star, in 2004 the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco opened Helnwein’s first U.S. exhibition, unsure as to the extent of his American fandom. One hundred and thirty thousand people attended.
As part of his exhibitions, Helnwein enjoys placing his artworks in the public sphere. He sometimes creates enormous photographic representations of his works and posts them in open spaces. An impartial observer might concede that scale of some of this public art is truly spectacular.
Helnwein remains highly productive and his Belgrade exhibition “Between Innocence and Evil” opened in late 2015 to positive reviews and considerable attention. He is highly regarded by many prominent artists – including creative people in fields such as film and literature – and has created a powerful global reputation that will ensure an enduring legacy. His daughter Mercedes is also an accomplished visual artist.
Robert Flynn Johnson, curator of Helnwein’s breakout 2004 U.S. exhibition, summed up the artist by declaring that we are the subject of his art, or more precisely, the vagaries of our collective human condition. Helnwein expresses this through an avatar – the child. According to Johnson,
The metaphor for his art is the image of the child, but not the carefree, innocent child of popular imagination. Helnwein instead creates profoundly disturbing yet compellingly provocative images of the wounded child. The child scarred physically and the child scarred emotionally from within. [“The Child – Works by Gottfried Helnwein,” The Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, 2004, pp 9–23].
Helnwein’s children are soulful representations of profound inconsistencies at the heart of the human condition. Damage the children, damage the world – and the damaged world will damage the children further. What would Sigmund Freud, Vienna’s other favourite son, have made of this?
Selected works
Between Innocence and Evil
One man exhibition, Museum of Contemporary Art, Belgrade, Nov 2015 – Jan 2016
Helnwein
Retrospective at the Albertina Museum, Vienna, 2013
Face It The Child, Works by Gottfried Helnwein
One man exhibition, Lentos Museum of Modern Art, Linz, Austria, 2006
The Child, Works by Gottfried Helnwein
One man exhibition, San Francisco Fine Arts Museums, 2004
Gottfried Helnwein Retrospectives
– Angels Sleeping, Rudolfinum Gallery Prague,2004
– Monograph, State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg, 1997
Ninth November Night
Documentary – A Commemoration of the 65th Anniversary of Kristallnacht, Museum of Tolerance, Simon Wiesenthal Centre, Los Angeles, 2003
This great video discusses the issue of creating art in a world of popularity and instant success. Who wants to make art in the dark?
The life of Vincent Van Gogh is used as a brilliant example of someone who dedicated to creating art, despite his seeming lack of success. Also titled, “The Long Game“, the video discusses the virtue of creation for its own sake.
Write on! paint on! create !
You can also view the video on Vimeo here.
This wonderful TEDxSeoul talk [yes it’s got subtitles] reminds us of how we can over-complicate and overthink creativity.
Every child is born an artist and does not think to create for payment or accolade. We never lose this creativity but we learn to listen to the devils of doubt who would question “why” or “what for?”
But art is not for anything. Art is the ultimate goal. It saves our souls and makes us live happily. It helps us express ourselves and be happy without the help of alcohol or drugs.
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[Transcript]: The theme of my talk today is, “Be an artist, right now.” Most people, when this subject is brought up, get tense and resist it: “Art doesn’t feed me, and right now I’m busy. I have to go to school, get a job, send my kids to lessons … “ You think, “I’m too busy. I don’t have time for art.” There are hundreds of reasons why we can’t be artists right now. Don’t they just pop into your head?
00:39 There are so many reasons why we can’t be, indeed, we’re not sure why we should be. We don’t know why we should be artists, but we have many reasons why we can’t be. Why do people instantly resist the idea of associating themselves with art? Perhaps you think art is for the greatly gifted or for the thoroughly and professionally trained. And some of you may think you’ve strayed too far from art. Well you might have, but I don’t think so. This is the theme of my talk today. We are all born artists.
01:16 If you have kids, you know what I mean. Almost everything kids do is art. They draw with crayons on the wall. They dance to Son Dam Bi’s dance on TV, but you can’t even call it Son Dam Bi’s dance — it becomes the kids’ own dance. So they dance a strange dance and inflict their singing on everyone. Perhaps their art is something only their parents can bear, and because they practice such art all day long, people honestly get a little tired around kids.
01:51 Kids will sometimes perform monodramas — playing house is indeed a monodrama or a play. And some kids, when they get a bit older, start to lie. Usually parents remember the very first time their kid lies. They’re shocked. “Now you’re showing your true colors,” Mom says. She thinks, “Why does he take after his dad?” She questions him, “What kind of a person are you going to be?”
02:16 But you shouldn’t worry. The moment kids start to lie is the moment storytelling begins. They are talking about things they didn’t see. It’s amazing. It’s a wonderful moment. Parents should celebrate. “Hurray! My boy finally started to lie!” All right! It calls for celebration. For example, a kid says, “Mom, guess what? I met an alien on my way home.” Then a typical mom responds, “Stop that nonsense.” Now, an ideal parent is someone who responds like this: “Really? An alien, huh? What did it look like? Did it say anything? Where did you meet it?” “Um, in front of the supermarket.”
02:52 When you have a conversation like this, the kid has to come up with the next thing to say to be responsible for what he started. Soon, a story develops. Of course this is an infantile story, but thinking up one sentence after the next is the same thing a professional writer like me does. In essence, they are not different. Roland Barthes once said of Flaubert’s novels, “Flaubert did not write a novel. He merely connected one sentence after another. The eros between sentences, that is the essence of Flaubert’s novel.” That’s right — a novel, basically, is writing one sentence, then, without violating the scope of the first one, writing the next sentence. And you continue to make connections.
03:40 Take a look at this sentence: “One morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up from anxious dreams, he discovered that in his bed he had been changed into a monstrous verminous bug.” Yes, it’s the first sentence of Franz Kafka’s “The Metamorphosis.” Writing such an unjustifiable sentence and continuing in order to justify it, Kafka’s work became the masterpiece of contemporary literature. Kafka did not show his work to his father. He was not on good terms with his father. On his own, he wrote these sentences. Had he shown his father, “My boy has finally lost it,” he would’ve thought.
04:10 And that’s right. Art is about going a little nuts and justifying the next sentence, which is not much different from what a kid does. A kid who has just started to lie is taking the first step as a storyteller. Kids do art. They don’t get tired and they have fun doing it. I was in Jeju Island a few days ago. When kids are on the beach, most of them love playing in the water. But some of them spend a lot of time in the sand, making mountains and seas — well, not seas, but different things — people and dogs, etc. But parents tell them, “It will all be washed away by the waves.” In other words, it’s useless. There’s no need. But kids don’t mind. They have fun in the moment and they keep playing in the sand. Kids don’t do it because someone told them to. They aren’t told by their boss or anyone, they just do it.
05:00 When you were little, I bet you spent time enjoying the pleasure of primitive art. When I ask my students to write about their happiest moment, many write about an early artistic experience they had as a kid. Learning to play piano for the first time and playing four hands with a friend, or performing a ridiculous skit with friends looking like idiots — things like that. Or the moment you developed the first film you shot with an old camera. They talk about these kinds of experiences. You must have had such a moment. In that moment, art makes you happy because it’s not work. Work doesn’t make you happy, does it? Mostly it’s tough.
05:37 The French writer Michel Tournier has a famous saying. It’s a bit mischievous, actually. “Work is against human nature. The proof is that it makes us tired.” Right? Why would work tire us if it’s in our nature? Playing doesn’t tire us. We can play all night long. If we work overnight, we should be paid for overtime. Why? Because it’s tiring and we feel fatigue. But kids, usually they do art for fun. It’s playing. They don’t draw to sell the work to a client or play the piano to earn money for the family. Of course, there were kids who had to. You know this gentleman, right? He had to tour around Europe to support his family — Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart — but that was centuries ago, so we can make him an exception. Unfortunately, at some point our art — such a joyful pastime — ends. Kids have to go to lessons, to school, do homework and of course they take piano or ballet lessons, but they aren’t fun anymore. You’re told to do it and there’s competition. How can it be fun? If you’re in elementary school and you still draw on the wall, you’ll surely get in trouble with your mom. Besides, if you continue to act like an artist as you get older, you’ll increasingly feel pressure — people will question your actions and ask you to act properly.
07:02 Here’s my story: I was an eighth grader and I entered a drawing contest at school in Gyeongbokgung. I was trying my best, and my teacher came around and asked me, “What are you doing?” “I’m drawing diligently,” I said. “Why are you using only black?” Indeed, I was eagerly coloring the sketchbook in black. And I explained, “It’s a dark night and a crow is perching on a branch.” Then my teacher said, “Really? Well, Young-ha, you may not be good at drawing but you have a talent for storytelling.” Or so I wished. “Now you’ll get it, you rascal!” was the response. (Laughter) “You’ll get it!” he said. You were supposed to draw the palace, the Gyeonghoeru, etc., but I was coloring everything in black, so he dragged me out of the group. There were a lot of girls there as well, so I was utterly mortified.
07:51 None of my explanations or excuses were heard, and I really got it big time. If he was an ideal teacher, he would have responded like I said before, “Young-ha may not have a talent for drawing, but he has a gift for making up stories,” and he would have encouraged me. But such a teacher is seldom found. Later, I grew up and went to Europe’s galleries — I was a university student — and I thought this was really unfair. Look what I found. (Laughter)
08:23 Works like this were hung in Basel while I was punished and stood in front of the palace with my drawing in my mouth. Look at this. Doesn’t it look just like wallpaper? Contemporary art, I later discovered, isn’t explained by a lame story like mine. No crows are brought up. Most of the works have no title, Untitled. Anyways, contemporary art in the 20th century is about doing something weird and filling the void with explanation and interpretation — essentially the same as I did. Of course, my work was very amateur, but let’s turn to more famous examples.
09:01 This is Picasso’s. He stuck handlebars into a bike seat and called it “Bull’s Head.” Sounds convincing, right? Next, a urinal was placed on its side and called “Fountain”. That was Duchamp. So filling the gap between explanation and a weird act with stories — that’s indeed what contemporary art is all about. Picasso even made the statement, “I draw not what I see but what I think.” Yes, it means I didn’t have to draw Gyeonghoeru. I wish I knew what Picasso said back then. I could have argued better with my teacher. Unfortunately, the little artists within us are choked to death before we get to fight against the oppressors of art. They get locked in. That’s our tragedy.
09:48 So what happens when little artists get locked in, banished or even killed? Our artistic desire doesn’t go away. We want to express, to reveal ourselves, but with the artist dead, the artistic desire reveals itself in dark form. In karaoke bars, there are always people who sing “She’s Gone” or “Hotel California,” miming the guitar riffs. Usually they sound awful. Awful indeed. Some people turn into rockers like this. Or some people dance in clubs. People who would have enjoyed telling stories end up trolling on the Internet all night long. That’s how a writing talent reveals itself on the dark side.
10:27 Sometimes we see dads get more excited than their kids playing with Legos or putting together plastic robots. They go, “Don’t touch it. Daddy will do it for you.” The kid has already lost interest and is doing something else, but the dad alone builds castles. This shows the artistic impulses inside us are suppressed, not gone. But they can often reveal themselves negatively, in the form of jealousy. You know the song “I would love to be on TV”? Why would we love it? TV is full of people who do what we wished to do, but never got to. They dance, they act — and the more they do, they are praised. So we start to envy them. We become dictators with a remote and start to criticize the people on TV. “He just can’t act.” “You call that singing? She can’t hit the notes.” We easily say these sorts of things. We get jealous, not because we’re evil, but because we have little artists pent up inside us. That’s what I think.
11:34 What should we do then? Yes, that’s right. Right now, we need to start our own art. Right this minute, we can turn off TV, log off the Internet, get up and start to do something. Where I teach students in drama school, there’s a course called Dramatics. In this course, all students must put on a play. However, acting majors are not supposed to act. They can write the play, for example, and the writers may work on stage art. Likewise, stage art majors may become actors, and in this way you put on a show. Students at first wonder whether they can actually do it, but later they have so much fun. I rarely see anyone who is miserable doing a play. In school, the military or even in a mental institution, once you make people do it, they enjoy it. I saw this happen in the army — many people had fun doing plays.
12:23 I have another experience: In my writing class, I give students a special assignment. I have students like you in the class — many who don’t major in writing. Some major in art or music and think they can’t write. So I give them blank sheets of paper and a theme. It can be a simple theme: Write about the most unfortunate experience in your childhood. There’s one condition: You must write like crazy. Like crazy! I walk around and encourage them, “Come on, come on!” They have to write like crazy for an hour or two. They only get to think for the first five minutes.
13:01 The reason I make them write like crazy is because when you write slowly and lots of thoughts cross your mind, the artistic devil creeps in. This devil will tell you hundreds of reasons why you can’t write: “People will laugh at you. This is not good writing! What kind of sentence is this? Look at your handwriting!” It will say a lot of things. You have to run fast so the devil can’t catch up. The really good writing I’ve seen in my class was not from the assignments with a long deadline, but from the 40- to 60-minute crazy writing students did in front of me with a pencil. The students go into a kind of trance. After 30 or 40 minutes, they write without knowing what they’re writing. And in this moment, the nagging devil disappears.
13:48 So I can say this: It’s not the hundreds of reasons why one can’t be an artist, but rather, the one reason one must be that makes us artists. Why we cannot be something is not important. Most artists became artists because of the one reason. When we put the devil in our heart to sleep and start our own art, enemies appear on the outside. Mostly, they have the faces of our parents. (Laughter) Sometimes they look like our spouses, but they are not your parents or spouses. They are devils. Devils. They came to Earth briefly transformed to stop you from being artistic, from becoming artists. And they have a magic question. When we say, “I think I’ll try acting. There’s a drama school in the community center,” or “I’d like to learn Italian songs,” they ask, “Oh, yeah? A play? What for?” The magic question is, “What for?” But art is not for anything. Art is the ultimate goal. It saves our souls and makes us live happily. It helps us express ourselves and be happy without the help of alcohol or drugs. So in response to such a pragmatic question, we need to be bold. “Well, just for the fun of it. Sorry for having fun without you,” is what you should say. “I’ll just go ahead and do it anyway.” The ideal future I imagine is where we all have multiple identities, at least one of which is an artist.
15:21 Once I was in New York and got in a cab. I took the backseat, and in front of me I saw something related to a play. So I asked the driver, “What is this?” He said it was his profile. “Then what are you?” I asked. “An actor,” he said. He was a cabby and an actor. I asked, “What roles do you usually play?” He proudly said he played King Lear. King Lear. “Who is it that can tell me who I am?” — a great line from King Lear. That’s the world I dream of. Someone is a golfer by day and writer by night. Or a cabby and an actor, a banker and a painter, secretly or publicly performing their own arts.
15:58 In 1990, Martha Graham, the legend of modern dance, came to Korea. The great artist, then in her 90s, arrived at Gimpo Airport and a reporter asked her a typical question: “What do you have to do to become a great dancer? Any advice for aspiring Korean dancers?” Now, she was the master. This photo was taken in 1948 and she was already a celebrated artist. In 1990, she was asked this question. And here’s what she answered: “Just do it.” Wow. I was touched. Only those three words and she left the airport. That’s it. So what should we do now? Let’s be artists, right now. Right away. How? Just do it!
16:44 Thank you.
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You can view the original TED talk here.
Since childhood I have been charmed by French and Japanese animation or anime. TV shows of my childhood included Astro Boy, Voltron, Ulysses 31, The Mysterious Cities of Gold and more. They held a charm that regular US animation lacked!
As a young adult I discovered the works of Tin Tin and Asterix, both French/ Belgian creations. What was curious to me was that these works were largely directed at an adult, rather than child audience.
Perhaps this fact helped articulate the charm these works held? These artists took their work seriously. It wasn’t just for kids.
A bit of research reveals the fact that the French have elevated comic strips or bandes dessinees, to the level of a national art form labelled The Ninth Art. Comic strips for adults thus portray historical and political events and political satire, philosophy and more.
Certain characters such as Asterix and Obelix have become a part of national consciousness, embodying the national spirit. Peter Davy [2011] in his article published in the June edition of France Today writes:
The indomitable little Gaul fighting off invaders quickly resonated with the [1950s] French public…..
Even today, the character [Asterix] continues to represent the determinedly independent French spirit. It does illustrate the fact that comic strips, or bandes dessinées, play a real role in what historians term “the construction of Frenchness”. To put it simply, Astérix is part of the French national identity.
He continues:
The country boasts the largest comic market in the world after the US and Japan, worth almost €330 million in 2009, and it sells some 40 million comic albums a year. The annual Festival International de la Bande Dessinée in Angoulême is the biggest in the world, say the organisers; San Diego’s Comic-Con doesn’t count, they argue, because it is an exhibition as opposed to an artistic festival.
The gallery dedicated to French comic strips, La Musee de la Bande Dessinee has been elevated to the category of Museum of France, equating it with the Louvre. In fact, the Louvre itself hosted an exhibition of comic strips in 2009.
The secret seems to be to take an artform utterly seriously and allow it capture a national spirit. May there be many more de la bandes dessinees toujour !!
Various metaphors are used for artistic inspiration and expression.
An apocryphal quote attributed to Michaelangelo, sculptor of the statue ‘David,’ is retold like this. When asked how he came up with his masterpiece, Michaelangelo simply replied:
You just chip away the stone that doesn’t look like David.
The artist’s perception is that there is something in the stone that he, the craftsman must simply discover. This renaissance thought had much in common with classical ideas of inspiration.
Ancient poets and playwrights described the source of their inspiration as a divine ‘muse’ or a goddess responsible for arts and knowledge. This muse could be capricious, visiting the artist somewhat whimsically and contributing to great floods of inspiration or terrible creative blocks.
Elizabeth Wilson, author of “Eat, Pray, Love” in her great TED talk discusses the merits of modern artists rediscovering the ancient notion of a muse.
Other artists refer to their work as “children”, conceived in the brain and growing until they cannot but be birthed with great labour pains. Another writer once described his ideas like little puppies, following at his heels and tripping him up until taken out for a run.
Whichever way one considers inspiration, expression remains the same. Artistic expression is “work”. Whether the sculptor discovering the “David” within the marble, or the poet transcribing lyrics delivered by a muse, or an artist gestating ideas and bringing them forth with great labour pains, as birthing a child, the common theme is clear.
Inspiration is often a gift received, while creative expressions is a gift given.
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