“Most of us have two lives. The life we live and the unlived life within us. Between the two lies Resistance.”
Steven Pressfield knocks IT out of the park in his revolutionary book : “The War of Art”. If you haven’t picked this up yet- well it’s time that you did! It is EPIC. A short read, compact, Yet packing super adrenaline laced power in it’s 163 pages that overflow with pure, inspiring, motivating, creative truths! Clearly Pressfield knows what he is talking about and lucky for us decided to write it down and share it with the world!
Any creative who has not read this art Bible is cheating themselves, because the core message gives us art people the mental tools we need in order to combat, maim, and ultimately kill RESISTANCE! Only then will you be able to pursue your dream, your “Vein of Gold” – as Julia Cameron, author of another artist Bible “The Artists Way”, defines it, in spite of the naysayers, the threats, the enemies of distraction and procrastination attempting to thwart your passion, your path, your power.
DONT. ALLOW. IT.
Pressfield lays it out so clear, so concise, so real. He has lived it, learned it, earned it, and loves it. You will read this book many times, until you get it and then you will read it again just to confirm and inject some needed art plasma into your vein. Of Gold.
Right now I am reading a wonderful memoir by Fernade Olivier, in which she describes her relationship with Picasso, in their early twenties, in Paris, painting in his hole-in-the-wall studio, known now as the Famous Chateau Lavoir, freezing and burning, in Monmartre during the early 1900’s. Talk about resistance! It was an ongoing challenge he fought 24/7 /365! Painting while starving and just barely managing to survive.
For the artist this is an eternal, persisting life story. Whether it be surviving the environment, social 
condemnation, or internal resistance, there will always be some challenge to overcome. The more invasive the artists resistance is, the less he or she paints, dances, writes, photographs, acts, composes! This for the artist can be lethal. Pressman describes this hideous conflict in his book of knowledge, and crystallizes the absolute necessity to detect, defuse, and destroy!
Many artists died by their own hand, while drawn into the abyss of other temptations, gazing into the prism of fame from a distance, the challenge is often to great to overcome and continue to create.
Because it’s NOT an easy path, yet sooooo rewarding in ways that the 9-5’ers can not, will not understand. So it’s cool beyond belief. If you have the Steven Pressman mojo helping you fuel your drive and keep you going, in spite of walls, mountains, waves attempting to obstruct your momentum and prevent you from the personal success and satisfaction that is your destiny!
This is crucial fuel in the Artist Arsenal of dynamite necessary for our propulsion into that exciting world where creativity and resistance are the ying and yang, the oil and water, the yes and no, the dark and light. Resistance does NOT work.
Stephen Pressfield says it best:
” The Enemy is a very good teacher” Artists need to make friends with this enemy, learn from it, and prosper!”
The artist produces from that mystical source where nothing is real, making it real, by producing the form in real time on canvas, stage, paper, or thru instrument.
Strawberry Fields, is a small tranquil place in Central Park directly across the street from the Dakota , the residence where John & Yoko lived before he was assassinated by a crazy fan in December 1984 Is one of the most popular tourist destinations in NYC, it is a strange combination of the old and the new where musicians strum guitars to the beat of vintage Lennon, kids take photos at the “Imagine” plaque, and old hippies, aka baby boomers, relax on benches, observing the scene, as they reminisce of latter days, where they partied, made love, danced, and dreamed to The Beatles infinite musical repertoire.
It’s a cool place to visit now, yet also a sad place, because it has become a shrine to a man who was killed because of his talent, his fame, his celebrity, which made him loved by many, hated by many, the object of envy, and a target for the crazies. The dark side of fame. And it is. The artist is creating protected, as a lone wolf, obscure and free, until he is discovered. Then everything changes. Fame becomes the enemy, the friend, the desired, the despicable. “Be careful what you wish for.” The artist then becomes a victim of the world, the society out there whose love he craved, whose admiration he dreamed of, can become the vampire draining his life’s blood. How to know?
John was way too open and trusting as he and Yoko hung out in Central Park, strolled CPW, treating NYC as their new best friend. Yoko is still a resident at the famed Dakota! They had a love affair with NYC. How could they ever think it would be the city that destroyed his life by the act of a random fan ? They couldn’t. But it wouldn’t have changed a thing. He was still the John of Strawberry Fields Forever, Imagine, Lucy in the Sky, the White Album, and so many more, a cornucopia of music, giving the world new musical vistas for eternity!
Art IS forever. The artist is the venue, the tool, the channel. But the Source from where this gift originates is so much more. The inspiration, or as writer Julia Cameron describes it – the “Vein of Gold”. This is why Van Gogh could keep on spilling his paint on undiscovered canvases hidden for many years after his premature death, why Picasso could create while freezing or burning in the squalor of Bateau Lavoir, why “Le Dounier” – Rousseau could paint while being mocked as an object of ridicule while toiling days as a lowly clerk, why Modigliani could paint masterpieces, while wasting away from illness in his Paris Garret studio, that are now being auctioned at Sotheby’s for over 100 Million !
That Vein of Gold is a powerful lifeline to the artists creative source nourishing and providing an infinite abundance of wealth! John was struck down, and yet his Central Park Mecca remains 35 years later a place where he is very alive!
Whenever I visit galleries which is often I find that I spend the most time gazing at a painting sculpture etc. that is the least pretty or beautiful or cute. The ones that capture my interest are either ugly, weird, or just downright confusing. Because yes, it’s true that we all like pretty, but pretty wears off fast, gets old, tired, and empty and we go hungering and thirsting after something heartier, more filling, more substantial. Paintings can be like that. Was Warhol pretty? Picasso was hideous, and Twombly just plain confusing, what about Richter? 
Pretty is Not the Point. It’s the Anti point. helloooooooo
Was not nyc more glam in the dirty scary seventies than it is now in its gentrified sterile prettiness?????? Of course. But the only people who know it are the ones who saw it back when . The millenniums and the gen y ‘s have no clue. As they try to be artists in this uber tech society with the grunge the grit the gory grotesque horror neatly cleaned up and filed down. 
be hidden by sterile perfection. This quality is actually sexier and more interesting than someone who is physically perfect. We see this in the modeling world where top models, like Kate Moss, Turlington, Twiggy, Penelope Tree, or any of the London models made famous during the age of Mary Quant and Piccadilly, during the Hippie Age of Drugs Sex and Rock n Roll, like Verushka, all made their fame and fortune spectacular in their unconventional look. That made them objects of fascination for everyone who wanted to be them, but just did not have that edge, that extra something. And that’s true in the art world as well. Perhaps it’s true in every aspect of life. One needs that Extra Something, the new, different, often irregular, offbeat, crazy, that makes people take notice. Otherwise it’s just same old same old. And that doesn’t make art!
Pretty. A compliment? I think not. More than likely a dismissal. An after thought. A crumb of “let’s pretend”. Who really wants to be pretty? What painting could be worthy of interest if it’s only claim to fame was pretty? Pretty doesn’t go far. It’s merely one step above cute.
Oscar Wilde said “No object is beautiful that under certain conditions will not look ugly”.
Looking at some of the older works of Ny artist Julien Schnabell prints in his book of memories called CV.J. I can’t find one pretty painting. Most are a melange of chaos on a canvas, broken plates, harsh words, confusing images, and muddy colors, and again broken plates! Not your everyday pretty painting. Suzanne Valdon’s bastard son, and sickly alchoholic, Utrillo, was a master of pretty paintings, still sold today as postcards and prints. His images of Montmartre, during the early 1900’s, appeals to the masses today as frame – able, hangable, non disturbing art. Guaranteed to decorate, promised not to disturb. And that’s OK.
“They have to take a chance, everything they do is taking a chance, but they feel so much safer when they take it on something they know to be ugly, vain and stupid.” Ayn Rand
Gatekeeper: a human who controls Access to something, like a city gate. But according to Webster the term is also used metaphorically, referring to people who decide whether a given message will be distributed by a mass medium. Like the internet for example.
Your personal Gatekeeper stands alert aware and on guard, to any threat attempting to thwart your creative destiny. Don’t be a sitting duck waiting for the avalanche of naysayers, doubters, and haters praying for you to fail, give up, join the herd, and ride the train into oblivion with those who just don’t GET IT.
You can be your own Gatekeeper. Letting in who you want and banning those you don’t. Those who agree are IN. Those who don’t DON’T matter.
How we think about our art gives our personal Gate Keeper power. It can tear it down or build it up. Like the Gatekeepers who serve computers, there purpose is to keep out the hacker, the virus, the poison, and so do we, if we choose, share that purpose, continuing on our creative path preserving and protecting our chosen work.
So, being a Gatekeeper is serious. It allows you to continue on your artistic journey, keeping out the naysayers, the doubters, and the egomaniacs who can only relate legitimate work to dollars, popularity, and prestige.
From an Arab proverb:
“It’s easy to stand in the crowd, but it takes courage to stand alone” Mahatma Gandhi
There is only One when it comes to the unique individual, who does, acts, creates, lives, in a different spectacular universe far removed from the rest of the rest. Encompassing the Best of the Best.
Van Gogh had it. Michelangelo nailed it. Gertrude Stein invented it. Picasso owned it. Einstein invented it. Warhol flaunted it. Dylan folk singed it. Kerouac wrote it. Neil Cassidy drove it. EE Cummings rhymed it. Billie Holiday sang it. Emerson thought about it. Einstein hypothesized it. Freud analyzed it. Kerouac typed about it.
ONE signifies the pioneer spirit of discovery! It’s revolutionary and life changing in theory and process . Who wants to run in a pack? Who wants to be a sheep when clearly it’s the sheep herder possessing the real power? But it takes guts, perseverance , creativity, solitude ,and self awareness, to separate from the sheep herd, and run alone.
While the world seemed flat to most, for the explorers coming from their unique revolutionary experience of thought they knew that there was another theory waiting to be proven. And prove it they did. But it required charting unknown territories and blasting through the cemented thinking of popular opinion.
Following your dream, passion, fantasy, whatever you want to call it can be a lonely and torturous road. One beset with rejection, poverty, and disappointment. You have to put your Man Pants on if you want to crush it! You have to keep it moving, or you may fall off, never get back on your unique ride towards your individual destiny.
But what’s the alternative?
To Live is to Love is to Hate. Have you ever stood in front of a painting, turned the pages of the latest hot novel, or sat in an audience at Carnegie Hall, experiencing a conflicting mix of feelings, where both love and hate, create a toxic mix of ambivalent emotions as you looked, read, listened?
That’s the way it’s supposed to be. You are Not supposed to be 100% clear while engaging in any artistic experience because that would be kind of boring? Right? Nobody wants it 100%. Yes or No. Easy to figure out. Mystery is key. A mixture of things to both love AND hate make it interesting, fun, edgy, create a story, spark our curiosity, essentially involving us like nothing else does. The yin and the yang forces necessary to life’s evolvement. And that is not a simple thing. It’s a bit of black and white, yes and no, up and down, that forces us to really get into it and feel the love/hate dichotomy that riles people up, makes them sweat, and sends them running to their therapists! Otherwise, what have you? Flat – lining into oblivion. “Dead Man Walking.” And who wants that?!??! We need to have that duality when engaging in whatever our art crush happens to be. Otherwise it’s easy to take it for granted, get bored, and loose interest. Not Cool!
Falling in love with a painting, a song, a poem, a story, a film, a dance, can feel like a powerful emotional rush, driving the need to engage in an extreme relationship with the object of your infatuation! The reason someone will pay 20 million$ for a painting, or develop a cultish obsession for a writer, I’m thinking about David Foster Wallace, Jack Kerouac, Hunter S. Thompson, for example, not to mention the obsessive crushes people get on rock stars and actors, creating fan clubs, on-line sites, stalkers, venting their obsessive emotions, that are indulged and stoked by the Technicolor images on stage and screen. The passions that the Beatles, the Stones, Elvis, Michael Jackson, Nirvana ,inspired in the past, certainly looked like love! Swooning teenagers screaming in the audiences, universally tells the story. The Love Story. But then, flip the switch, and you get Hate. The fine line, tightrope walk where Love & Hate get uncomfortably close in their emotional energy and feeling. Especially when it comes to art.
Bukowsky’s poem, “Nothing Subtle”, read twice will either break the stoniest wall, or add another brick to it. “There is nothing subtle about dying or dumping garbage, or the spider and this fist full of nickels…..”. Or E.E. Cummings’, “LVIII”, a quintessential love poem, a possible answer to telling your girlfriend how you Really feel. “Is there a flower (whom i meet anywhere)
The large crowd always clustered around Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” masterpiece at the Metropolitan Museum in NYC, can’t stop staring, at the mesmeric swirls of color as they click click click on their iPhone cameras trying to preserve the memory of this work of art that is so hard to walk away from. The agony depicted in Munch’s “Scream” is paltable, it is cringe worthy at best. Hate or Love? I call hate on this one. It’s definitely not a pretty warm and fuzzy moment. “Scream” makes you want to cry and run away. But that’s great. It’s emotion. And that is a good thing when delving into arts’ caverns of love and hate. You will find both, living side by side, in harmony conflict. A duo of opposites. Revealing the dichotomy of life forces as experience teaches the individual as he grows. Pop art will inspire a lot of hate, as Jeff Koons did with me at his latest exhibit at the Whitney in Nyc. People Love to Hate Pop. They often don’t get it so it’s easy to hate. They link the hate 
often with ridicule and laughter. That’s fine. At least they are feeling something and that’s the point. Warhol’s art was ridiculed and mocked all, over town. That Campbell Soup can was absurd! After all it was just a soup can. Sure. On the surface. Of course ironically, it became the trademark that helped turn Warhol into a pop icon legend, while the haters watched him laugh his way to the bank! So you never know. Hating an art work can be a good thing. When Kafka’s “Metamorphosis”, was published, people didn’t know what to think! A salesman, his protagonist, turning into a giant insect, with no real explanation, it was so bizarre, so hated, so dark, that of course it became his major work, the novel he is known for, the book on high school reading lists worldwide! The story, brought to the surface dark feelings, and confusing messages, all symptomatic of Kafka’s own personal life story.
“A book should serve as the ax for the frozen sea within us” so said Kafka. He finished none of his novels and burned 90% of his work. “Metamorphosis” regarded as his seminal work inspire those conflicting love – hate feelings in any reader. His themes of alienation, physical and psychological brutality, quest, and transformation are the substance of his writings, fascinating readers for over 70 years. One can either love, hate, or a combination of both, Kafka’s take on life, and it’s effect on his literary work. But one cannot remain unaffected. One cannot ignore!
The actor Robert Mitchum, in “Night of the Hunter”, tattooed his knuckles with the words Love and Hate, in the 1955 film. Pulp. Dark. Cool. Unforgettable!
Art can have this kind of power. The viewer, the reader, the listener gets pulled in, on the emotional level that exposes feelings, good and bad, through the magic and mystery of the sublime presence and power that art evokes! Emotional Q or “EQ” dominates and supplements us with an energy like no other! We experience our own version of a “Magical Mystery Tour”, as we visit unexplored artistic regions! Our EQ provides us with the perfect guide, helping expose and enhance our artistic feelings on the journey.
Yes, love and hate dictate the emotional overlap in the art world to the outer world. People being who they are, relationships get messy, and so it is with our relationships with art. Messy. There is rarely a clear definitive response, but when there is, it’s either one or the other. But both are related as the pendulum swings back and forth, like our reactions when faced with the Basquiet, the Lautrec, the monster insect of Kafka’s masterpiece, or the grotesque eviscerations of Francis Bacon’s men, Diane Arbus and her freaks, or Anais Nin’s narcissistic journals, Tennessee William’s anguished characters, Kurt Cobain’s angst ridden songs, Or John Water’s underground film personalities, the list goes on and on and on…….
ypically artists have had day jobs in order to support themselves. Making art, though personally rewarding can also be financially challenging. The actor, writer, painter, poet has worked in cafés, bars, restaurants, shops, bookstores, in order to support himself. To survive one must often work in menial, boring, tedious, and often ego punishing jobs, serving the public, in order to pay the bills, and attend to the basic life necessities, while also pursuing ones artistic endeavors.
Not easy on the surface, but if truth were to be told, having been on the other side, the server, is not as simple and mundane as he or she appears to be. The perception to the “others”, A.K.A. the public is something quite different. It’s an interesting dichotomy. The server, be it waiter, salesperson, bartender, can be perceived as a fixture, a robotic tool of said establishment, whose sole function is to provide the customer with what he wants. If job is well done, meaning a gracious abundance of subservient ass kissing, the one who “waits” may be shown favor with a tip, a commission, a pat on the head by the boss, a compliment hopefully catapulting him to a step up the ladder in whatever his place of employment happens to be. The extraordinary over the top customer service applied the greater the tip. And vice versa. All of this manipulation and theatrics can be stressful and create animosity not shown but felt by servers to the served. It encourages and amplifies the “we against them” attitude.
Every great and not so great artist has been in the service business at some time. It’s inevitable considering the unreliable world of artistic self expression you
Steve Pressfield hammers that point home in his epic artist Bible ” The War of Art”. He says to keep at it, do what you have to do, but don’t resist your true calling. Resistance is the killer, and the inoculation is to keep pursuing your passion. That is your true occupation, not the faux reality you endure in order to pay the bills.
So, servers inhabit a secret world. It’s the world of the watcher, the observer, the critique, the analyst, the smiling facade, the “service with a smile” greeting, provide entertainment, gossip, and subjects for the unwritten novel, painting, poem, or actors audition. Oh yes, servers gain a ton of information, knowledge, and crazy insights from observing JQ Public on the job. Because as invisible as the server appears to be, he is always WATCHING you. Subtle, and contained, the server sees everyone and knows faces, behaviors, attitudes, requests, of any one who he be holds in front of him and if you visit the same establishment twice you are known, a returner, and fair game for a speculative observation and eventual discussion as soon as youdepart. And not always in a positive or flattering way. Imagining that you are unseen, makes you vulnerable, the casual shopper, the drinker, the diner, being waited on by a somewhat ethereal being. Who only waits on you robotlike, when in reality they see you a bit too closely, and remember you the next time you appear, and often gossip about you with co workers, friends, your appearance, idiosychrocies, your mannerisms, you were rude, you were nice, your style or, lack of, your cheapness, your generosity, your sex appeal, it ALL is noticed, kept in reserve to be channeled out later for entertaining chatter, humor, discussion. God help you if you are a celebrity! Because fact
Book clerks, like other clerks in service fields, as perceived by the public are invisible entities seen only when absolutely necessary. Unrecognizeable to the public, they are there to give the customer what he or she wants. But, the bookseller, sees you, in ways you will never know. He sees you by the books you buy, the books you pick up and look at, the books you ask for. These books will tell your story as you read, other people’s stories. What’s your problem? Weight, depression, loneliness, divorce, s+m, romance! games! Interests? Growing cannabis? Pop Culture? Career change? WWII? Your secrets are revealed when you step Into a bookstore! The booksellers will soon know what they are. The cashier behind the counter, who may have a zombie stare, is watching you. What book did you pick up off the display? Are you a liberal? 
Conservative? Gay? manic? single? Unhappily married? bipolar? It’s all revealed by the books you are attracted to, and the booksellers see you. To the public, booksellers are akin to pieces of furniture, who will speak if spoken to , but to the sellers you are exposed in a harsh brutal light showing your flaws and your secrets, and unaware you continue to wander the shop exposing yourself like the patient on the therapists couch. The high wattage bulb is turned on and the customer becomes unwittingly a species under the microscope, ripe for close and personal examination. The middle-aged man who sits on the same chair for hours every week, a pile of magazines his pretend friends, the lonely woman on Friday night, seeking the bookstore as her only sanctuary, the modelesque blonde student hunched On the floor, a chosen corner, pretending to read while sleeping off her heroin high, the guy who plots his days by the stars, updates his favorite astrology book, his hope for future happiness. Every Week, the crazies, the junkies, the suits, the men who escape the homeless shelters by day, the depressives, the lonely hearts club, all come together to the bookstore for escape. A retreat from the oppressive
chaos of the city, it is a welcome escape. In “Kafka was the Rage”, by Anatole Broyard, his autobiographical expose of a bookshop owner in the 1950’s, Greenwich Village. Broyard rents a shop on Cornelia Street, stocks it with books, and begins his adventure in book selling. His passion was writing, so this seemed like a perfect fit. To own and operate a Greenwich Village bookstore! But, unexpectedly, he gives it up, after experiencing the infinite parade of lonely city dwellers , who used him as their personal therapist, and used the bookshop as a retreat from life, their sudo home, reading books , not purchasing, and hanging out, in their make believe “home away from home”. This was a rude awakening for Broyard as he lost money, and became discouraged by this unexpected turn of events. Broyard was a watcher, a voyeur, who chronicled his experience in his first book, “Kafka was the Rage”, describing what he witnessed as he served the public, and simultaneously gathering material for his first novel! ‘He served and was served!
Actors, and artists, want to spend their time in their pursuit of their craft, but life gets in the way and bills have to be paid. Often very intelligent talented people have to spend hours and hours in jobs they are over qualified for intellectually, while striving for the ability to work 100% at their artistic goals. So they wait tables, tend bar, sell stuff, they SERVE! But while they serve, they watch, they get material, they develop telescopic views into people and lives they would not have been privy to any other way. They develop communication skills with the vast spectrum of society, the losers and the winners. They get street smart, while toning their diplomatic skills, becoming clever, intuitive, people savvy, and tuned in to humanity. The public is an infinite body of nameless faces, personalities, styles, shapes, and characters. The servers have to accommodate whoever walks in and presents themselves. This takes skill, tact, strategy, and intuition, because you never know who is going to show up and present themselves and you better be ready willing and able to deal with whomever that is! And it could be a deranged maniac! Keeping things calm, giving them what they want, keeping them satisfied, delivering, using that server strategy, until they go away. And the next encounter arrives.
But after work, on break, on Facebook, the servers get the chance to express how they really see you- JQ PUBLIC, creatures of shops and cafés, observations, are shared, because Servers are not invisible mutants, robots, furniture, servants, or potted plants! They are doing a job, but it’ not their REAL job! Their true identity originates elsewhere. The authentic life is outside the confines of the store, bar, cafe, hotel, restaurant, the menial paycheck, with the subservient catering to the publics whims and needs. It is about making their art, acting in the show, writing, painting, running, dancing, dreaming, expressing the passions that make life worth living, the creative juice that runs on full gear, the way they get through the day, knowing that this is NOT It…that there is so much more that identifies who they are! And that knowledge keeps them going until, they can throw in the apron, the name tag, the cap, the uniform forever, and live the life they were meant to live completely!!!!!!!
“Color directly influences the soul. Color is the keyboard, the eyes are the hammers, the soul is the piano with many strings. The artist is the hand that plays touching one key or another purposively to cause vibrations in the soul”.
My first experience with Kandinsky, oddly enough, was a movie I saw in 1993, actor Will Smith’s first, called ” Six Degrees of Separation”. Smith’s character, perpetrates a fraud on a Park Avenue couple, who take him into their home, believing him to be a college friend of their son. Patrons of the arts, Kandinsky is their favorite painter, and two of his paintings become central points of interest in the movie. “Black Lines” and “Several Circles”, depicting the qualities of chaos and control. Chaos and Control. The yin and the yang. The high and the low. The plus and the minus. Smith charms his way into their lives by concocting a lie about his identity, which they swallow hook, line and sinker, fooled, and charmed by Smith’s charismatic personality, and their desperate need to inject excitement into their mundane, sterile, predictable, lives. Smith Reads them, Plays them, Robs them, and in so doing, causes the bipolar opposites of chaos and control, as symbolized in Kandinsky’s paintings. In their intellectual naivety, bounded by their social status and inflated egos, they become easy targets for Smith, and he preys on their vulnerabilities with the sharp sting of the subtle snake, who lies in wait, ready to pounce, and devour! The “War of Art” in action! The theory of “6 degrees”, is that everyone and everything is six steps away , so that there is a link, invisible, yet profound that connects any two people in six steps! Physically or spiritually this link creates a chain that leads to this connection. Six links is all, it takes!
When the film came out it helped push Will Smith into the movie star realm, from his TV fame, a major career leap for him at the time, taking him into the Hollywood stratosphere! It also raised the intriguing question of the of six degrees phenomenon. Kandinsky’s paintings highlight this question exposing his spiritual view, seen in his paintings, and posing spectacular questions of time and space. His “Compositions” were based on his “music is the ultimate teacher”, vision, displayed in his pre WW1 exhibit, “Degenerate Art” later destroyed. This was pre Nazi Russia in the 1930’s. A foreboding, dangerous time.
Bible stories, symbolizing the cycle of life, was an important resource for Kandinsky in his personal experience and he expressed it in his art. From Adam, to Moses to Noah, to Jonah, to the Apocalypse, he inhaled these Bible stories and exhaled them in his supreme abstract imagery , creating the masterpieces we see today! The war years also presented a huge moral and spiritual cataclysm for him, and as an artist that had to come out visually, and it did successfully!
Kandinsky at the MOMA. four large ones, kept in their own room, unshared by other artists, used to line the Park Avenue apt hallway , of the wealthy businessman Edwin Campbell, the CEO of Chevrolet, in 1913. Each one is a spectacular viewing experience! To imagine owning them and having them greet you whenever you entered or exited your home is a surreal fantasy one can only dream! My favorite is #1, found in Gallery 14 at MOMA. The minute you see it, you become transfixed by the multi facets of brilliance color spilling in an hypnotic swirl of hot and cold, posing questions, no answers, and emotions that freeze you in position, reveling in the power of Kandinsky’s artistry!
The pyramid effect he writes about is a natural component of his work engaging his spiritual devotion with his observations of society and humanity during an unsettled time in history. He was obsessed with the soul. The artist as prophet. The artist at the apex of the pyramid making new discoveries, the pioneer standing alone at mountain’ peak, looking out and taking in the inspiration that he absorbs and projects into his work! AGAIN – because I think it’s poetic, profound, passionate, and a perfect characterization of his thought process and his work.
Artist as musician as painter as one entity working, united in harmony creating a composition transfixing the onlooker, the listener, in a symphonic experience of painting, musical harmony, opening up a new world!
The definition of a “flaneur” loosely stated is “the art of strolling”. A flaneur is an “idler, a man or woman of leisure, a street connoisseur, an urban explorer”.
The cities London, Paris, and New York are the flaneur’s heaven. Exploring by foot, at leisure, is not only enjoyable, accessible, and exciting, but is also a way to fill the creative well. One goes out with a blank mind and returns with an overflow of sensory information. The walk is not just a walk , simplistic in meaning , but a “gastronomy of the eye” as Balzac aptly called it! Getting out of the studio, the office, ditching the computer , is a welcome journey for the creative to go on, the simple stroll, becomes a hunt for jewels to fill the treasure chest of the mind !
In the mid 19th century, when the flaneur became a “thing” in Paris, it was associated with the lifestyle of the “dandy”, the idle rich with excess time on their hands to stroll the city’s streets at their leisure. Oscar Wilde, Baudelaire, and Gerard de Nerval, the French Romantic poet, who actually walked his pet lobster around on a blue silk leash, were a few of these “dandys”. When questioned about his unusual lobster walking habit, Nerval retorted, “why should a lobster be any more ridiculous than a dog?” Of course, Nerval was utterly and completely Mad! But an original flaneur in every way!
But what about photographers famous or otherwise? Watching, looking, recording strangers, wars, society, celebrities, buildings, faces, light, scenes, landscapes, the exotic, the banal, the photographer’s work in progress is an on going documentary of life as seen through the cameras eye. Certain Nyc photographer – flaneur’s , like, Diane Arbus, Vivian Maier, Robert Frank, Edward Steichen, Cindy Sherman, were always on the GO, walking the streets , looking for new material, and thousands of photos later, we get to experience the city as they did . In the film “Finding Vivienne Maier”, we are taken on this illusive mystery woman’s city walks, her camera focused ,watching, walking, and waiting for the photo she wanted. Robert Franks, in his “The Americans”, the dynamic expose of our society in the 1950’s, Weegee’s crime scene photos from the underground Nyc life, also pre 1970, Ron Galella, celebrity photographer, stalking his obsession Jackie O, up and down the city streets, Doisneau’s, iconic black & white, photographs of Paris, are spectacular records of the street life, and give us a view of early 20th century life we can only experience through photos such as his. Amazing stuff, stepping into a time capsule, that only the flaneur, armed with camera, or sketch pad, or journal, can give us, from his street perspective, up close, we get to see what he sees and that is a special experience. Diane Arbus’s freaks, her attraction to the atypical as her subjects, the circus freaks, the retarded child, the vagrant, the downtrodden, city characters she came across during her flaneuring in NYC, sealing her place in history ! The writer, Edmund White, cites French photographer Eugene Atget, as a “scientific flaneur.” “An obsessed photographer, determined to document every street in Paris, before it disappeared forever in the new construction looming in the future.” These flaneur’s armed with cameras, have the ability to document the city scape as it changes, is torn down, rebuilt, transformed over time, with the photographs left to document what once was. In Vivienne Maier’s stunning collection of thousands of NYC photos, now available in a book, “Street Photographer” one is given a historical photographic journey of a city that no longer exists.
Henry Miller, the charismatic novelist, spent his early writing life on the streets of Paris, with his lover Anais Nin, usually looking for a meal, but also gathering material for his banned book “Tropic of Cancer”, and the future tropics to follow. Miller is always walking the streets of Paris, from Pigalle to the Bastille, to Montparnasse, the Right Bank, the Left Bank, he covers by foot, every avenue, every “rue” of old Paris. Miller, the Brooklyn boy, writer in training, expat, soaking up the sights, the people, the language, living as a true “starving artist”, pursuing his dream, his walks taking him into Zola’s “Belly of Paris”, and giving the world his gritty life view in the pages of his often controversial, raw, rough, provocative novels!
provided by their walk! Van Gogh’s paintings of the potato planters, his sight holding them in his artist’s eyes, as he walked through the Dutch countryside, Utrillo’s cafe scenes, clearly from his meanderings through the winding Monmartre streets in his absinthe haze, Lautrec’s cabaret posters, his brothel paintings, walking with his infamous cane, that held a beaker of absinthe, or brandy in it’s hook, making his flaneur experience compatible with his drinking. The SITTER has a very different experience. One is stationary, compact, confined. Whereas the WALKER is movement, freedom, mobility, unleashed!” Transitory poetic in the historic” Baudelaire says. As only he could, using his poetic liscence freely. Yes, there is the possibility to “achieve transcendence” as you wander, walk, stroll stride, saunter the city streets. It’s the unexpected encounter, the surprise event, the sudden illumination, the street action, people, traffic, energy, all carry the flaneur’s ahead, around, and towards new sights, different views of old sights, and unfolds untapped resources of the mind that your walk inspires!
While Oscar Wilde, the poet, playwright, gay icon was serving his prison sentence in 1897, for sodomy, “gross indecency” with other men, he wrote a journal he entitled, “De Profoundis”.
Genius & Dreamers. The Yin and the Yang. The Yes and the No. The Up and the Downs, the Roof and the Basement.
Could that be because dreams, are the genesis of art in its multi forms? And dreams don’t involve agonizing or forcing, they just are, like the rose petals unfold, a natural process, like nature shows us, from the caterpillar evolving into the butterfly, to the bumble bee giving us honey, to the sun drenched grapes on the vine providing us with wine in the glass. They just happen. Because they are supposed to.
” Then I realized that my dream life was as full of memories as my real life, that it WAS a real life, denser, richer in episodes and in details of all kinds, more precise in fact, and that it was difficult for meto locate my memories in one world or another , that they were superimposed, combined, and creating a double life for me, twice as huge and twice as long as my own”
Where does creativity come from? The dream world is certainly a prime originator of all creative genius. The “Songs of Innocence and Experience”, William Blake’s masterpiece, is essential dream material, as is most of his work, his Dragon series, his mystical dreamy, other world visions translated unto his poetry and artwork as a harmonious symmetry of passionate self expression give us his dreams coming to live on the page.
So when I look at Blake’s engraving of “Jacob’s Ladder”, or “The Ancient of Days”, I have no doubt that he was tapped in, connected to the dream world inspiring and guiding him on his artistic path. His images came from his spiritual, other world reality far removed from the gritty ugly, Dickensonian London cityscape he was dwelling in at time, late 1700’s -1800’s. His interior world transported him out of his exterior world. Lucky!
Several years ago, in NYC, The New York Public Library produced a fantastic exhibit on Jack Kerouac’s writings. During my visit, I was amazed by the extensive collection of dreams and visions that Kerouac documented in his personal journals and sketchbooks, diaries, and stories. Mysticism, Buddhism, Beatism, other world experiences, and (yes he was a victim of alcoholism ), which took him to the “other side ” sooner rather than later, but his dreams pushed him into his destiny as a “Beat” Writer ,an icon , a representative of the NY literary cultural dream team along with Alan Ginsberg, Bill Burroughs, Diane DiPrima, Gregory Corsco , Hettie and LeRoi Jones! Kerouac, definitely a dream inspired man On the Road! Death could not stop him. His dream lives on!
Thoreau whose dream was to retreat in solitude at Walden Pond, and write about his experiences, tapped into his dream power, making his dreams reality! We can read all about it in ” Walden”, a must for every high school student for the past 60 years.
Diane Arbus, Georgia O’Keefe, George Sand, Colette, Piaf, Suzanne Valladon, Sylvia Beach, Simone de Beauvoir, Freida Kahlo, Sylvia Plath, these women were proof of this identifying quality, living off the grid, pursuing their dreams, often without social encouragement or recognition. Dreaming is gender oblivious. You are or you are not. You Do or you Don’t.
Webster defines dreams as: ” a conception or image created by the imagination and having no objective reality. ”