What makes art last?

It’s kind of a loaded question, isn’t it? There are a lot of factors. How well known the artist was. If he had backers that chose to endorse him (or her!). If he got a lot of commissions. If his work was preserved well enough. If he had a lot of friends or a lot of money. Even trivial things like what city he worked out of, whether or not he was a menace to society, or if he had powerful enemies.

But, then again, all of that could be thrown out the window. Van Gogh was never quite in line with the other painters of his time. Michelangelo and da Vinci hated each other. Marcel Duchamp is quite widely hated by those that don’t appreciate modern art, and yet he is one of the most recognizable names of that period.

La Guernica by Pablo PIcasso

I guess my question is more based on opinion and less based on fact. Why do certain artists and works speak to us after all this time? Some of them are no longer immediately relevant, like Picasso’s La Guernica. And it takes someone who has studied art to understand what is being depicted in this particular painting. It isn’t exactly for the layman.

And yet people flock to museums every day. They enjoy looking at these works, even if they don’t necessarily understand them. I have a B.A. in Art History, but I wouldn’t even begin to know the meanings of half the paintings I’ve seen. But they still speak to me. I still appreciate them. I still find them beautiful.

But why?

Is it because we’re meant to? Is it because we know that Michelangelo was an incredible artist? Or that da Vinci was a brilliant inventor? Or that Gauguin was truly ahead of his time? Is it based on fact, or is it based on opinion?

The Birth of Venus by Sandro Botticelli

If you were to look at a painting by Botticelli, without any preconceived biases or notions, would you still enjoy it? Would you still appreciate its beauty? Or, compared to what we can do with computers these days, would you find it primitive? Say it was The Birth of Venus. Could you still relate to its story? Could you understand the meaning?

I guess the notion is a morbid one. Do we appreciate art because we were told to? Because certain people in history, due to influence or money, preserved the works they liked the best? They say that history is told by the winning side. Can the same principle be applied here?

What do you think? Do we appreciate the Greats because we were told they are great, or do we appreciate them because we still connect to their artwork? If it’s the latter, what makes them still relevant to our modern world?

Featured Video: The Grumpy Guide to Art

A friend of mine from college (a fellow art history major) passed this video along to me and I just had to share it with you guys.

You know I’m an advocate for taking subjects that are normally very boring and turning them around so that they’re interesting. Art history can definitely be one of those stuffy topics that people usually steer clear from.

What’s great about the video below is that it teaches you how to sound like you know a lot about art. You can put in a minimal amount of effort and still sound like an art snob! How cool is that?

The video is about 30 minutes long, but it’s pretty funny. It’ll also give you some basics about Pre-Raphaelites and Surrealists, not to mention some modern works as well.

 
Did you make it through the whole thing? What did you think? Do you have a favorite line? (Mine is the one about the three nymphs, LOL.)

Artists through the ages: Botticelli

The life of an artist and the works they produce can teach us so much about writing. And it doesn’t have to be boring! Check out the latest post in this series: “Artists through the ages: Leonardo da Vinci.”

Botticelli is another favorite artist of mine. He doesn’t get quite as much attention and Michelangelo and da Vinci, but he deserves to be recognized for his talents. He was also born in the mid 1400s and lived until the very early 1500s. Whereas both Michelangelo and da Vinci were a part of the High Renaissance, Botticelli was their predecessor and is considered to be a part of the Early Renaissance, although they did co-exist for a short time.

Interesting Facts:

1. He was initially trained as a goldsmith.
2. He was a part of the committee that decided where Michelangelo’s David should be placed.
3. He also contributed some frescoes to the Sistine Chapel.
4. He was never married, and actually had a strong aversion to the idea of marriage.

If you know any painting by Botticelli, it’s The Birth of Venus. He’s also famous for La Primavera and Venus and Mars.

I’m going to do something a little different with this blog post – and it’s not only because I couldn’t find any quotes from Botticelli (okay, it IS because I couldn’t find any quotes).

I’ve always been in love with La Primavera. If you look closely, the painting is chock full of tiny details that give you an overall impression of the painting even if you don’t pick up on them individually. For example, the oranges symbolize the Medici family, which were huge supporters of the creation of art during this period. The myrtle is symbolic for Venus, as that’s what she was wrapped in after she was born and came to shore on her conch shell.

These are just a few of the things you can pick out in the painting to help you interpret it. And in this same way, a book should be written. A good book should be a lot like a good painting, and vice versa, because the tiny details should also give you an overall impression of the novel, even if you don’t pick up on them individually.

For example, the color in a painting is very important. Is it realistic or surreal? Is it bright or dark? This sets the tone for the painting and puts us in a certain mood. The coloring can tell us that the painting is supposed to be exciting and happy, or it can tell us that it’s supposed to be tragic and powerful.

Along the same lines, your words in your story are like the colors in a painting. They set the tone of your story, depending on which ones you choose. Whether you color your book with bright, happy colors or with dark, terrifying colors is up to you – as long as you keep the words and the tone of your story consistent.

Art is laden with symbolism, but that’s the nature of the beast. This is especially true in older paintings, and particularly in Christian-based artwork. Art back then was used to convey a message to the illiterate masses, so symbols were necessary in order to get the point across.

To a lesser extent, it’s important to have symbols in your story as well. You don’t have to go so far as to make the whole story an allegory, like The Chronicles of Narnia, but even if people don’t pick up on the exact meaning and purpose of the symbols, they’ll still get a broad idea of what they’re doing in the story. When I first saw The Sixth Sense, a lot of the symbolism was lost on me, even though – subconsciously – certain things still influenced my viewing of the film. When I went back and re-watched it, I picked up on a lot more. Nothing changed, other than the fact that I became more aware. A painting, a movie, and a novel can all work in similar ways.

In La Primavera, the figures are realistic. This is no Picasso. The women are curvy and have soft, angelic faces. The man on the left is muscled and stoic. In short, they’re portrayals of both men and women that are appropriate to how someone like Botticelli would have view these people.

The characters in a book should work in a similar fashion. Whether you choose to have this naturalistic, idealistic portrayal of your characters is up to you. You can even go the Picasso route and have a character that’s out of sorts, as long the character is relatable. That’s always the most important thing. As long as we can still pick out the eyes, the nose, and the face in a Picasso painting, we can believe that this disfigured and strange being is in fact still human.

Something that you get automatically with a painting – or any other piece of art for that matter – is that the story is shown. There’s no telling in art. The piece should always speak for itself and show you the story that is trying to be told. Books struggle with this a lot more, and that’s why I believe it’s important for writers to study art. Look at all we can learn! Look at how, in La Primavera, the man on the left is stirring the storm clouds. We can infer that this is the god Mercury without having the artist paint his name on his chest. Even the simple fact that the women are dressed in white and Zephyrus is a dark, ominous blue tells us how we’re supposed to feel about the two different figures.

Writing should always work in the same way. We’re badgered into believing that we must always show and never tell, and I’ll never purport that to be untrue. But it can be hard! Sometimes you’re telling and you’re not even aware of it. Sometimes you think you’re showing (in the best way possible, get your minds out of the gutters!) and you’re really just telling your audience everything. Artists like Botticelli didn’t have the luxury (or the need, really) to explain their paintings. They let the artwork speak for itself, and we should always strive for our books to do the same.

Artists through the ages: Leonardo da Vinci

The life of an artist and the works they produce can teach us so much about writing. And it doesn’t have to be boring! Check out the latest post in this series: “Artists through the ages: Michelangelo.”

The only logical follow up to Michelangelo would be da Vinci, don’t you think? He was also born in the mid 1400s and died in the early 1500s. He was a true Renaissance man – a painter, sculptor, architect, musician, scientist, mathematician, inventor, and engineer among other things.

Interesting facts:

1. He is considered to be one of the greatest painters of all time.
2. He may be the most diversely talented person ever to have lived.
3. He was born out of wedlock.
4. He was a procrastinator (something we all can relate to!).
5. He had drawn up things like a helicopter, a tank, and a calculator well before the time when these things were invented.
6. Michelangelo and Leonardo were active artists at the same time and generally in the same place (Florence being one of the hotspots). They were notorious enemies.

Some of his most famous works include the Mona Lisa, The Last Supper, and the Vitruvian Man. Again, this is an extremely short list, as da Vinci’s accomplishments are wide spread and much too lengthy to note in a single blog post.

“It had long since come to my attention that people of accomplishment rarely sat back and let things happen to them. They went out and happened to things.”

This is one of my all-time favorite quotes from anybody, and for good reason. All of the people we look up to as exceptional human beings – the artists, the movie stars, the athletes, and the great figures of history – those things didn’t just happen to them. They didn’t wake up one day and become president or the greatest cyclist the world has ever seen. They worked hard and chased their dreams.

As writers, we can’t expect stories or inspiration to just come to us. We have to chase down our muse and work toward that final goal of getting published. No matter how good of a writer you are, that’s not just going to happen. You have to make it happen.

“Obstacles cannot crush me; every obstacle yields to stern resolve.”

Every time I hear something about how writing is not a good career path, or how it’s such a hard business to get into, it makes me want to work that much harder. Obstacles stand in our way so that when we overcome them, we know that we truly deserve to be where we are. You can take a car to the finish line of the race, but it won’t be nearly as rewarding as if you ran the whole way yourself.

“Time stays long enough for those who use it.”

Just think about how much da Vinci accomplished in his lifetime. All of those paintings, those notes, those inventions. He worked with a 24 hour day, just like we do. And he had time for everything. Of course, the world back then is quite a bit different than it is today…

But that’s still no excuse. You have 24 hours to work with. There are obviously things that must get done – eating and sleeping and spending time with family, but the point is that there is still room to write. It’s up to YOU how you use those remaining hours. If you put it to good use, then there will be more than enough time in a single day to accomplish all that you want to get done.

 “Art is never finished, only abandoned.”

I love this quote because it is so true. Do you think that when da Vinci put the final stroke on the Mona Lisa, he said, “Well, that’s perfect! There’s absolutely not one thing I would change about this.”

Yeah, not a chance.

I’m sure he hated some of his paintings and drawings. He was probably just as insecure as we are about our writing. But he didn’t let that stop him, and we shouldn’t either. A book will never be done. A sentence can always be tweaked, a paragraph can always be fixed, and a character can always be fleshed out just a little bit more.

But that kind of attitude comes from a person who will never get a book published. At some point you just have to say, “enough is enough.” This is as good as it’s going to get. It’s not perfect, but perfect just doesn’t exist (especially in our line of business). You have to lay down your pen and move on to the next thing in life, otherwise you’ll never move forward at all.

“A poet knows he has achieved perfection not when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away.”

This goes very well with the previous quote. It’s obvious that da Vinci doesn’t mean “perfect” in the literal sense of the word, for the very reason stated above. However, when you’ve chiseled at the novel for months, tweaking and tucking and nipping at every detail you can, you have to finally put it down and call it “perfect.”

Details can always be added. They may or may not be necessary. But when you finally have the right amount of everything – setting, description, characterization, etc. – and there is nothing left to take away that will not absolutely destroy the story, you know that your work is done. Most books, I believe, suffer from too much rather than not enough.

“Every now and then go away, have a little relaxation, for when you come back to your work your judgment will be surer. Go some distance away because then the work appears smaller and more of it can be taken in at a glance and a lack of harmony and proportion is more readily seen.”

This idea floats around heavily amongst writers. “Take a day or two off and then go back to your story, things will just fall into place!” And it’s so true, isn’t it? Sometimes your brain just needs a break, and the only way it can truly get it is if it can completely forget about the project for a while. Even da Vinci, master of everything, knew how important it was to stop for a little R&R.

“I have offended God and mankind because my work didn’t reach the quality it should have.”

This quote makes me so sad. Da Vinci was one of the greatest men to have ever lived. We’re lucky to have known of him, even if it is only through the scribblings in his notebook and the accounts of those who were blessed to have lived when he did. Yet here he is, thinking that he did not do his best, and that he could always have done better.

There’s a lesson to be learned here. You will never believe your work is important enough. Or good enough. You’ll never think that you tried your hardest or did your best. You’ll probably never feel as though you’ve reached that nirvana of perfection where absolutely every minute detail is flawlessly placed.

But that doesn’t mean that you haven’t done all of those things.

And even if you haven’t, that doesn’t mean that your work isn’t important, period. Or good, period. You did try your hardest and did do you best, even if you didn’t feel like it. Nobody reaches perfection, not even the gods and goddesses of the writing universe like JKR and Stephen King. Not even every minute detail in their works is perfect.

So give yourself a break. Lay off. Do what you do best: write. Da Vinci didn’t think he was all that great either, and look at the mark he left on history.

You can do that too, in time, if you let yourself.

My Favorite American Artist: Thomas Cole

Ever since I was younger, I’ve been a fan of Greek and Roman art, as well as the High Renaissance. American art just never captured my attention. It always felt as though it followed in the footsteps of the Italians or the French, but never did as good of a job.

That is, until I met Thomas Cole. Or, rather, until I met his paintings.

He was born at the turn of the 19^th century and, ironically, he was born in England. He moved here with his family when he was 17. After little success with portraits, he moved on to landscapes and truly found his niche.

It was by accident that I discovered him, really. It was one of those last minute decisions that you make on a whim. Oh, I have to turn my topic in tomorrow for this 10 page paper that isn’t due for another three months? *flips pages in book* I like…THAT ONE!

Believe it or not, this approach has served me well over the years. I either have very good taste, or I’m just easily fascinated by the people I happen to choose. I’m going to go with the former.

The thing I like best about Cole isn’t the rolling country scenes that he known for, although that’s certainly part of it. My favorite thing is the grand scale of some of his paintings. It’s as if you’re viewing the countryside through a wide angle, panoramic lens. He seems to squeeze so many minute details into one piece of work. You can look at one of his paintings for hours on end and still notice new bits of brilliance that escaped you before.

After choosing Cole as the artist I would focus on, I had to choose a painting. Unable to stick to just one, I chose a series called The Course of Empire. (Which, in a way, was cheating, because it has a very Greco-Roman feel to it.) It’s made up of five painting that – you guessed it – depict the different stages than an empire goes through during the course of its lifetime. I think they need little explanation, so please see the paintings below.

The Savage State

The Arcadian or Pastoral State

The Consummation of Empire

Destruction

Desolation

What did you think of the series? Aren’t they inspiring!? I’d love write something based off of the scenes in these works of art.

Do you have any favorite American artists? Is there a particular style or genre of writing that you avoided for a long time because you never liked it, but have finally found something worth investing in?

When Words Inspire Art

A few weeks ago I talked about fan-fiction. The debate continues about whether it’s considered copyright infringement, but one thing is certain – when an author inspires another person simply through the written word, it’s a beautiful thing.

Today is Wednesday, and although this post is much later than usual, I couldn’t let the day slip by without talking about art. Sometimes words inspire others to write. Sometimes those same words inspire others to create something a bit more visual. Here are a few examples.

Gustave Doré – Charon

This image was inspired by Dante’s The Divine Comedy, specifically Inferno. The artist drew this image of the ferryman, which came right from the story: “And lo! towards us coming in a boat / An old man, hoary with the hair of eld, / Crying: ‘Woe unto you, ye souls depraved!’” Charon was charged with taking the souls of the dead into the next life.

Pablo Picasso – Don Quixote

This next one is another drawing, this time by someone that you’ve probably heard of. Picasso depicts both Don Quixote and Sancho Panza here, though maybe not in a style that’s quite as detailed as Cervantes’ words were. You can see our hero on his horse, and his sidekick on his donkey. Those classic windmills are in the background.

Louis Lejuene – Battle of Moscow, 7th September 1812

Lastly, we have this somewhat depressing painting that was inspired by the events recorded in Tolstoy’s War and Peace. This is a much more detailed painting than the last, which is appropriate given the topic. This tells the story of a Russian battle in which many, many lives were lost.

These were just three random examples. There are countless others – especially if you take into consideration all the pieces created to depict stories from Greek mythology. Or Christianity. Or countless other religions and legends. The list is as close to endless as it could possibly be.

Would you like someone to turn a scene from your story into a painting someday? If so, what might you like to see? A battle scene or a portrait? A realistic and detailed portrayal, or maybe something funnier and more stylistic?