In Search of a New Project

It's never more evident to me that my mind works in an "artistic way" than when I am among those whose don't.  I was recently on vacation in Florida, and I was riding a trolley with two other people.  I started to notice the interior lines, the intersections of wood, the beach through design-covered windows.  My first thought was, why did I just spend money on a fancy camera that I don't use?  Second thought...there's always the cell phone.  It's not ideal, but it works during times like these.  I know there are all of the fancy apps such as Hipstamatic and Instagram, but sometimes I want to take the picture "in the raw" and play with manipulations later on.  Of course...once I've placed the image inside the frame, the manipulations have already begun.

So, I'm tilting my phone up and sideways, and I'm getting into that zone.  Suddenly, I hear, "What are you doing?"  with an emphasis on "doing."  Now luckily I'm not on my stomach or on my back or upside down (admit it, photographers, you've done the same).  I was upright, sitting in my seat, enjoying the moment until the bubble burst (later that night you would have thought I needed to be committed when we were outdoors waiting for an available table, and I was pointing my camera up at the sky).

Submitting evidence below:

I've studied photographs and films, and I have always wanted to become more of a professional in these areas.  One of these days, I'll take a class and see where technical improvements can be made (as I know those exist).

My central points of interest include the intersections of paintings, film, stills, and the stage.  Lately, however, I've come to a standstill as to what my next project will be.  I've never officially done film, but I'm intrigued by collaborative theater groups like Fevered Sleep.  Often, their audiences consist of children...I tell my students that the reason for this is that children don't question the wonders of the imagination...they invite them in:

And then there is Stan Brakhage who takes something as simple as moths' wings and makes them into an artistic expression:

So I'll keep thinking about what my next step will be.  In the meantime don't be surprised if you see me pointing my camera up at the sky or out the window.  That's just an artist at play.

Can You Escape the Personal in Writing?

I had a student come into my office the other day and ask me how she could keep personal, past experiences out of her writing.  I sat there for a moment trying to think if that was even possible. Days later, I continue to think if that is ever possible.

The very reason I started writing at an early age was so that I could make some attempt to articulate my personal experiences, and, in doing so, learn how to work my way through them.  Rainer Maria Rilke writes, "ΝO ONE CAN ADVISE or help you - no one. There is only one thing you should do. Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write."

I told my student that I may be the wrong person to ask, and then I turned the tables on her.  What was her concern?  Was it a "problem" she wanted to "solve?"  And if that was the case, was (or is) there a way that this is even possible (insert Freud here).  

She said that she had a "very dark" past that she was not ready to face...she didn't want to enter back into that space as of yet.  In time she thought she could, but she wanted her writing to explore other subjects, other moods, other movements.  However, the past kept finding its way in.

It always does.  

I told her that if she really wanted to explore other exercises, I could give her a book that may lead her into a different direction, but ultimately, I thought the past would continue to find its way in.  I then went on to give her numerous examples of artists/writes/musicians who have created some of the most beautiful work from some of the darkest times in their lives.  

I think people often feel ashamed of their dark past.  That we must be these automatons -- strong...metallic...unwavering. That to say our past rings fear in our ears is something that should be denied.  I know those dark places.  I've sat in their corners.  I've felt the cold fingers of night upon me.  But it was in those very spaces that I created some of my strongest writing.  It is in those very spaces that I came face to face with my fears and learned them, greeted them, and in doing so, became who I am today.

But I didn't tell her all of that.  Instead, I questioned the creative process and wondered about its limitations when dealing with the personal...even when we attempt to deny its very existence.  

 

In Recovery

Life(less) Seen

sitting among baby-bellied women
we wait for the sound-image projected

they dream in pinks and blues

but one catches my frown
downing the crowd

she hands me two chocolates
and walks away

the only thing fetal is my position
the only thing grown is a 5 cm sack

barring freedom
and sun

the nurse says she's big enough to name
I give a caged smile

three cuts and she'll be gone
two weeks and I'll heal

my roses are dying
dropping petal on wood

I have her picture
left unseen

Get Busy Writing, Woman

Yep, it's the "I don't know what exactly to do with this blog yet" writer.  I guess this is what happens (or at least I am hoping this is what happens) when you decide to start a blog and watch the cursor blinking back at you.  Mine is saying, "Dude, seriously...come up with something...anything...you are a writer...you are creative...you can do this..."

So what I typically do when I don't know where it begin is I think about things for a while.  Where do I want to begin?  How do I want to begin?  What is it that I want to say?  And tonight, I stumbled across a blog that I found myself reading for longer than a quick glance.  It's actually a woman I've never even met before and only know "virtually" through images.  She was (and still is) writing about how she is trying to live a healthier, more balanced life.  And after I finished looking at some of her entries and images (she is also a photographer), I found myself in my kitchen putting together a healthy meal: an open-faced organic turkey and mozzarella sandwich drizzled in olive oil and topped with basil with a side of peaches. 

I'm not going to lie and say I didn't end that meal with a small bite of Heath bar...you can't change a sweet-o-holic overnight, people.  Ask my childhood friends what they remember about my house when they would come to visit and it's the fact that we always had cookies and candy on the counter...even if some of that candy was those inedible orange circus peanuts that my dad couldn't get enough of.

I guess what I'm getting at here is that I haven't written anything as of yet, because I didn't think anyone was looking...or that anyone had time to.  But the truth in my case, anyway, is that I did have the time, and on this night I actually stumbled across something that resonated with me.  And that for a split second, it inspired me to change some old habits that I'm trying to break.

I realized in that moment that my blog just has to be real.  That I need to do what it is that keeps me moving through life...and that is to sit down and write, whatever might come to me.  So perhaps one day I'll write about art.  Or watching a dozen squirrels come out onto a campus lawn after students are done passing through.  Or how I want to begin to live a healthier, more balanced life...and how someone else's writing inspired me to do so.

Gilbert Meets Dobie

Recent Addiction to RSA Animation

The Blogging Dilemma

I was just reading from The Curious Writer for an upcoming composition class, and something suddenly occurred to me.  Now, being an English professor, this would be a good time to include the direct quote, but unfortunately, I left my book at the office...so I'm relying off of memory and will paraphrase. 

What Bruce Ballenger argues is that he views public and private writing in different ways.  His more private writing is done in journals, and as a result, he doesn't feel as self conscious about what he is saying, how he is saying it, etc.  And this got me thinking about blogging.  Doesn't blogging blur the lines between the private and the public?  And if it does, how do you maneuver through this?  I find that I turn to the blog in the same way as I would a journal.  I want to write about what I am personally thinking inside one moment in time, but in that space, I also realize that these thoughts will be made public for others to read.  I want the mutual correspondence and collaborative feedback, but there is also this impending fear and doubt whether or not the words are polished enough to appear in this forum. 

So, I'm curious...do you experience these dilemmas as a blogger as well?