As life further distances us from the natural world, from the family farm where we all once lived close to the earth, we are increasingly cast into the antiseptic world of modernity, of computers, communication and businesses with no relationship to basic needs. From our earlier world we take only our pets who stick by our sides no matter what. They are there to remind us of who we are and where we came from- a bit of the wild abandon and freedom that we all at one time shared.
I flew and fly complex aircraft, many years removed from the horse and wagon driven by my Grandfather. Still though, walking through the world’s airports and shiny glass and aluminum terminals, I see the occasional service dog; leading the blind and working the crowds and baggage bins, seeking bombs and drugs. Here, even today, in the midst of such remarkable scientific progress, the uncanny capabilities of the canine, our greatest and oldest friend, is still part of our world. This too, a lesson to be passed on- a step in the ladder our generation is building.
CHAPTER 3
Creation
Man is, if nothing else, creative. Our minds are always in motion, dreaming, considering, thinking and creating. Man is inventive. We design and build homes, buildings, factories, bridges and tall office buildings. We build aircraft, cars, trains ships, medical wonders, and all manner of marvelous items. We invent wondrous medicines whose complex compounds cure many diseases.
Man also creates art, meaning an object existing solely for pleasing those who view it. This kind of art has then no ‘practical’ function. The artist sculpts, draws, paints, wields, binds and shapes everything imaginable into complex and pleasing designs and shapes, depicting the world he sees.
In earlier times art was, in the main, devoted to creating representations of reality. Trees, mountains, ships and people looked as they were, anyone viewing them understood immediately what they were seeing. Leonardo and Michelangelo and all their contemporaries created art in this same way. It wasn’t until the French impressionists and artists like Picasso entered the world stage that we began to see what can be called “modern art.” In this school, objects and colors are used that decidedly are far removed from the real world. Design replaces the traditional, colors flow across the canvass in large, bold and, to me, meaningless swaths, representing somehow the ‘emotions’ of the artist. Such work isn’t hung in traditional galleries where the grand masters adorn the walls. In New York, there’s a separate museum dedicated only to “modern Art.”
Of course, with the advent of “modern Art,’ many, without natural talent and without art education, were and are able to “pretend” to be artists and pretend to create works of art. To be validated as an artist, in a general sense, means that people will part with their hard-earned money to own your work. Of course, too many times, those ‘patrons of the arts’ are actually ‘duped’ into buying by clever salesmen preying on their ignorance and gullibility. It has been argued that the great majority of what passes for ‘modern art’ is, in fact, naught but worthless scribbles expressing a profound lack of creative ability. The proof of this is that some people actually buy paintings done by elephants and monkeys…
Today, however, as in earlier times, great art is being created, some of it indeed is in the school of modern but much remains traditional. Those educated in the arts immediately discern the good from the dross. Of course, Art is also expressed in poems, books and in music.
In the world of music, we have the traditional, represented by Beethoven, Brahms, Chopin, Copeland and many, many others of this wonderful school. There is also modern or Pop music; some of the best being the many musical themes written for the movies and theater like ‘Cats,’ as well as wonderful songs like ‘Yesterday,’ written by the much venerated Beetles. Then, of course, as a sobering reflection perhaps of the shattering social pressures of urban life; we have such unearthly and deadly screeching of ‘gangster rap’, heavy metal and other such mind numbing- pounding tribal nonsense.
Remarkable art of course exists also in written format, exemplified by the likes of Shakespeare, Kipling, Keats, Longfellow, Thomas Wolfe and Mark Twain, just to mention a very few. There is, of course, a modern school of writing with science fiction writers like Robert Heinlein and Jack Kerouac’s wandering prose. The idea of taking pen to paper, as it were, is to lead the reader on a journey into the recesses of the writers mind. To take him by hand and walk into a created world of truth, fantasy, reality and wonder.
The very best writers engaging in the creation of written art use words to sweep the reader into a mystical world of beauty. Such are the works of the great romance poets such as Blake, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Byron and Shelley. Read again;
Lord Byron: One of my personal favorites, "She Walks In Beauty, Like the Night"
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
There’s little I can add to that…
I have happily wandered through many museums, in America and throughout Europe. When I visit any new city, as I have all over this tired old world, one of the first places I go is the museums. It is so very important that we take our young to visit these wondrous places as often as possible. Imagine, for a moment, what the word means, ‘Muse,’ to think or meditate in silence, to gaze meditatively or wonderingly. This is what one does in a museum. Here we find quiet halls hung with the art of the ages, where we meditate and dream … reflecting on the meaning and creativity of the masters. One can feel an almost physical lifting of the weight of our days and a discernable shifting of priorities. We are troubled less and feel more. This sense of the greatness and grandeur of the human spirit passes like osmosis through our very pores, imbruing us with wonder and joy. We dream, we ponder, we immerse our very souls in the refreshing waters of man’s creation. Surely, this lesson must be passed on. Sadly, only a small percentage of us have ever visited a museum. Huge segments of our troubled and diverse society have never and likely will never visit any museums and the sadder and lesser we are all for this….
Art, and an appreciation of art, is at the very essence of man’s life itself. The purpose is to inspire, to free our minds and our spirits, to open ourselves to possibility. Each and every one of us, when we quietly look within, introspectively, can feel a kinship with his own creativity. I’d like to believe
