The Art or the Artist?

I’ve always thought it a funny cultural quirk that people seem to want to like an artist (writer, movie star, athlete, director, or politician) in order to appreciate their art. This is probably in large part because we live in an age where it’s so easy to find out everything there is to know about a person. Our 15 minutes of fame is now and the odds are you can Google just about anybody and find them.

It’s always been prevalent with movie and TV personalities. There’s probably no better current example of this than the plunge Tom Cruise’s career has taken based on his horse’s ass personality and loony tunes philosophies. I sort of feel sorry for him. I’ve always been a Brad Pitt kind of gal though, and despite the tabloid coverage of his silly global antics I’ll still watch just about anything he stars in because I think he’s a genuinely talented actor.

I started thinking about this yesterday when I talked about Woody Allen. My post didn’t include anything about the scandal with Soon Yi Previn, but I’m well aware that there are a lot of people who found his behavior so deplorable that they won’t watch his movies. Maybe to some of us, it’s a matter of principle. Maybe some of us believe supporting the industry of someone we find morally reprehensible to be socially irresponsible. I’m not sure I think that’s it though.

This trend seems to have bled over into the other arts where who the creator is should be irrelevant to how we feel about the work and how they look should matter even less. I’m not especially interested in writers’ or artists’ personal lives so I don’t associate their work with what they do. If Annie Proulx hated puppies and kittens or Dave Eggers was in love with an orangutan or Michael Chabon was a necrophiliac, I can honestly say I wouldn’t care and wouldn’t even want to know.

I care even less whether the author of my favorite book looks like George Cloony or the elephant man. I read a list of 13 writing tips yesterday on Chuck Palahniuk’s website. Number 11 was: “Get author book jacket photos taken now, while you're young. And get the negatives and copyright on those photos.” I read a post on another Blog – just yesterday -- about the impact to sales that a youthful, attractive photo on a book jacket has versus one that – well -- probably really looks like the author. If that’s not a lot of pressure, I don’t know what is. There was a time when the stereotype of either an artist or a writer was that of an eccentric who probably wasn’t overly attractive (think Gertrude Stein or Truman Capote) and was maybe anti-social or reclusive (think Thomas Pynchon or J.D. Salinger). Now writers are thinking about glamour shots and image; as if writing well wasn’t hard enough.

It’s hard enough for me to figure out what to write and how to do it, so I’m planning ahead to save time. I’ll be auditioning body doubles to appear on my book jackets and attend book signings in my place. Once I’ve written a new classic for the 21^st century and whatever pseudonym I've picked is a household name (obviously I can't use my own name and let the media find out all the dirt), you can be sure I’ll be hailed as the youngest, sexiest looking middle aged woman in America. Let me know if you have a candidate for my pseudo-face in mind.

Paralysis by Analysis

There is a term called Paralysis by Analysis that refers to the phenomenon of gathering so much data and looking at a problem for so long that the resulting lack of progress or lack of a decision outweighs the benefit of performing the analysis.

I am most familiar with the term within the context of business, but it’s a problem for athletes, musicians, artists, writers and I’d venture a guess to anyone about to embark on a big decision or project.

I am there with my writing. Between reading Blogs and books on craft, I have started to write and then rejected at least six stories over the last month. The additional information I’m absorbing is all extremely valuable, but it’s intimidating and impossible to absorb entirely. Ignorance was bliss 21,000 pages into the draft novel I started several months ago and I won’t say there isn’t some salvageable material in there, but now that I’m starting to know what I don’t know, it’s almost overwhelming.

I have no sense of place! The theme is unclear! The characters don’t have enough depth! The stakes aren’t high enough! The tension isn’t high enough! I’m not saying anything new! Yikes!

Alright, that’s enough of a meltdown. I know what I need to do. I have enough information to go back to the drawing board and frame my ideas with the new insights I’ve gained. Better now than into the third or fourth revision of my first manuscript.

For the rest of the week, I’ll plot and diagram out my story, get a new draft started and I will not read anything new except good fiction so I can remember what it looks like.

It’s all about balance. Did I mention last week that’s a challenge for me?

Fine Art Views

Because I live with a painter and we both talk about what we love to do (a lot), it’s been interesting to find that almost everything written about both painting and writing translates to the other very well. Whether we’re talking about inspiration, lack of inspiration, what makes some artists or writers successful while others struggle, or how a full time writer or artist is perceived by other people, there seem to be parallels. I received my first issue of a new e-newsletter this week and thought I’d share an interesting piece. I wonder if there is a literary equivalent to Stendhal Syndrome. There have been a great number of books I’ve read over the last forty years that have had a profound impact on me, although even Ken Kesey’s “The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test” didn’t induce hallucinations. Great writing has brought me to tears, kept me from sleeping, invigorated me and caused me to annoy everyone I come into contact with because I won’t stop talking about the great book I just finished.

FOR ART COLLECTORS:

Do You Have Stendhal Syndrome? I Do!

By Clint Watson

In the July/August 2006 Issue of Art of the West Magazine, Tom Tierney and Allan Duerr wonder in their column "Straight Talk" why some people respond to art so strongly while others seem impervious to art's spiritual effects upon one's soul. As I pondered their questions, I remembered reading about an obscure psychosomatic "illness" regarding cases of people who exhibit extreme sensitivity to beautiful art. The phenomenon is called "Stendhal syndrome."

Stendhal syndrome is a psychosomatic "illness" that causes rapid heartbeat, dizziness, confusion and even hallucinations when an individual is exposed to art.

Marie-Henri Beyle, the French author known as Stendhal (his pen name), visited Florence in 1817. His book, Naples and Florence: A Journey from Milan to Reggio, describes his experience of the "illness." He actually became dizzy and confused by the majestic beauty of Florentine art. According to an Italian psychiatrist, Graziella Magherini, it happens all the time. Magherini observed and described more than 100 similar cases among tourists and visitors in Florence. Tourists visit the Uffizi, and fall to the ground while viewing paintings by Brunelleschi or Botticelli.

I've seen similar effects upon visitors to art exhibitions that I've attended. People stand in front of paintings gaping, weeping, or laughing. Stendhal syndrome illustrates the amazing power that artists wield when they concern themselves with creating beauty, rather than making ridiculous "statements."

Speaking of splashes and gimmicks, I have to wonder if anyone has ever fainted in front of an Andy Warhol or a Jackson Pollock? How many tourists have collapsed in tears in the MOMA? How many have been elated to spiritual highs by the geometric shapes of a Mondrian? Although to be fair, I have to admit that the apparent appeal and popularity of Warhol, Pollock, Mondrian, Picasso and other modernists does leave me in a state of confusion, but that's not quite the same thing as keeling over from the sheer beauty of their works....

As Allan and Tom point out in their column, those of us who are art lovers "...respond to art because it feeds our souls and, simply put, makes our world a better place." If being a person who responds strongly to art makes me ill, then I don't want to be well brother!

That’s my point, reply to email me yours at clint@fineartviews.com.

Sincerely,

Clint Watson
Software Craftsman and Art Fanatic

PS: "A work of art which did not begin in emotion is not art." (Paul Cezanne)

This article appears courtesy of FineArtViews.com by Clint Watson, a free email newsletter about art, marketing, inspiration and fine living for artists, collectors and galleries (and anyone else who loves art).

For a complimentary subscription, visit: http://www.fineartviews.com.

Do you have Stendhal Syndrome? Do you believe there’s a literary equivalent? What's the strongest reaction you've ever had to art or literature and what caused it?

Finders, Keepers, Givers and Seekers

Nicole Hyde is a full time artist, sometimes poet, one time music producer and a fantastic cook. She’s launched an experiment called the “Finders! Keepers? Art Project. Random Acts of Art in a Big, Big World”. You can see the Finders! Keepers? blog at http://fkartproject.blogspot.com

Very small, original oil paintings are dropped off in public with a note enclosed. The finder can choose to either keep the painting or pass it along.

Scott and I were charged with dropping off one of these beautiful pieces in December when we went to Kauai. It was a tiny landscape, about 4”x4”, wrapped in cellophane and tied with a white satin ribbon. Inside the package was a card with the question, “What happens to a pocket-sized piece of art when it’s left in a public place for anyone curious enough to pick it up?”

For a week, I carried the tiny landscape with me everywhere. I thought about leaving it in restaurants, on beaches, and at scenic overlooks but there wasn’t a spot that seemed just right. I didn’t want it to be rained on or overlooked. On the last day I left it at a bar by the beach on a table shaded by an umbrella. I was sorry to let the piece go into the world by itself and wondered who would find it. Would they be confused? Would they understand it? Would they love it as much as I did?

Since the project started in late December of 2006, Nicole’s paintings have been dropped in coffee shops, libraries, public parks and outside art centers. The finders who have responded have posted charming comments, reflecting delight at making such an unexpected discovery. I wonder about the rest of the pieces, who their finders are and where they ended up.

What a felicitous surprise to find a gift from a stranger and what a wonderful way for an artist to give back to an unsuspecting public. How exciting to imagine that a finder may develop a passion for collecting art so that maybe Nicole’s gift eventually brings a karmic repayment to another artist.

In the short time that I've been surfing writing Blogs and author websites, I have a similar sense of being the recipient of an unexpected gift. I've learned so much from the generous writers and literary agents and artists who take the time to post and share their insights and experiences that I continue to revise and refine my approach to writing and learning to manage my time. I'm always surprised at the kindness of those who have found a way to live their dream, but I'm starting to understand I shouldn't be. Maybe that generosity is a fundamental part of the equation.