Of "Demonic Creativity"... and other things (Revised)

Yes, I've taken a short hiatus from this blog, in order to attend to another project. That is, finishing the tale in which this character will appear.

Meanwhile, there are a few things happening in cyberspace that have recently come to my attention and that I'd like to mention in this post...  one being an elaboration of my previous Trans-D discussion regarding that tricksy, enigmatic collaborator, the muse.

 Matt Cardin is offering a home course in "Demonic Creativity"

 - available as a free PDF document - in which he discusses the muse, and its many different aspects, both from its historical and psychological standpoints, as well as ways in which the muse enriches our lives as well as our art, and techniques one can use to discover and/or commune with ones own unconscious intelligence(s).

I was initially put off by Cardin's use of "Demonic" in the title, but, ultimately, he was referring to the Daemonic, which originally referred to more benevolent human guides, and ones inner, hidden genius, before it was corrupted, and, well, demonized by Judaeo/Christian mythology.

I've just started reading it, and although it's addressed primarily to writers, I feel safe in recommending it to anyone interested in a thorough discussion of the muse and its many facets.

***

And then, over at Scientific American, we have the flip-side of the same discussion... that is, the drier, mechanistic, neurological theories dealing with the eccentricities of the artist and/or creative.

"People who are highly creative often have odd thoughts and behaviors—and vice versa.

Both creativity and eccentricity may be the result of genetic variations that increase cognitive disinhibition—the brain’s failure to filter out extraneous information.

When unfiltered information reaches conscious awareness in the brains of people who are highly intelligent and can process this information without being overwhelmed, it may lead to exceptional insights and sensations."

The above quote is found in the article... but to read the rest, you have to fork over $8, so be advised.

***

 ATTENTION ALL DIGITAL ARTISTS! I've just been notified that MOCA is holding a competition in its Salon. Video artists may also apply. You may or may not have to be a member.

Should I enter? I don't know, as I can barely afford the $30 fee... but I'm thinking on it.

Meanwhile, the deadline is October 30

***

Lastly, I've came to the realization that this blog is not appearing as it should in many cases - up to and including to myself! Apparently, Google Blogger has these disagreeable moods, when it decides it can't bear to load the page as it's been told to.

The example shown above is how Trans-D looks on a good day (and yes, that brownish text box should blend right in to this brownish text box). If GB has PMS, however, or is suffering a migraine, you may be seeing all sorts of anomalies... weird fonts, weird colors, a blank background, or little question marks where images might be. If this is the case, my advice to you is to reload the page, and you may have to reload it more than once. If you're still getting something other than the provided swatch, then I can't help you - your internet program might need upgrading, or your computer may lack certain fonts... meaning, I'm too lazy to change my template!

Patron Saint #6: Sakiko Ide, an Artist Obsessed

Sakiko Ide, Untitled - Oil on canvas, 1973 - Azuma Gallery

"If you would be happy for a lifetime, grow Chrysanthemums."

(a Chinese philosopher)

"To dream that you gather white chrysanthemums, signifies loss and much perplexity; colored ones, betokens pleasant engagements. To see them in bouquets, denotes that love will be offered you, but a foolish ambition will cause you to put it aside. To pass down an avenue of white chrysanthemums, with here and there a yellow one showing among the white, foretells a strange sense of loss and sadness, from which the sensibilities will expand and take on new powers... Often death is near you in these dreams."

- From an online Dream Dictionary found here.

Scene: New York City, Time: 1975. Police are called to an uptown apartment by the building's superintendent who, upon entering said apartment - to turn a tenant's water off, which apparently had been running for some undeterminable amount of time - is met by an unpleasant discovery. When the police arrive on the scene, they find "large canvases... stacked against the wall, reaching almost to the ceiling in the small apartment." Strangely, these canvases seemed to hold images of chrysanthemums exclusively. "A narrow path led through the giant chrysanthemums to a bed, a kitchen and a bathroom." It also led to the lifeless body of a middle-aged woman, apparently the artist. Her wrists and stomach had been slashed in such a "brutal" way, however, the police were initially inclined to describe it as homicide.

Shortly thereafter, or so the story goes, the verdict is changed as the police are tipped off by one of the woman's "male co-workers" - at a company which reproduced antique Asian-motifed screens - that the artist had recently inquired about "the best way to commit suicide".  It couldn't have helped that she had suffered a nervous breakdown five years hence to remove any suspicions regarding her death.

But, I can't help but wonder why a few warning bells didn't go off. regarding the fact that not long before her death, she had "received" a life insurance policy, and having no one to claim as a beneficiary - as, apparently she had no family - one of her afore-mentioned co-workers was chosen "almost at random", so that the necessary forms could be filed.

In any event, that was the end of investigation. Death by seppuku, also known as harakiri, a form of ritualistic suicide originally reserved for Samurai warriors, and, in this particular case, a method generally reserved for males ("the best way..."?).

Sakiko Ide, Kikusui VI - silkscreen with hand coloring, 1973

The artist's name was Sakiko Ide, born in February, 1927, in Japan, and relocating to America to study art in Chicago during 1965 at the age of 36. After her graduation, two years later, she moved to New York where she became a member of the Japanese Artist's Association. She painted in oils as well as made serigraph prints, which were delicately hand-colored with pastels and inlaid with gold and silver leaf; some of which were bought by the Museum of Modern Art.  Others were exhibited at the Azuma Gallery, which, after her death, held a posthumous one-woman show.

I was introduced to Ide's story from an article - "The Chrysanthemums of Sakiko Ide" - written by Tricia Vita, appearing in the now historical rag, The Feminist Art Journal, (Spring issue, 1977) (from which the two B/W reproductions above originate). I even made a pilgrimage to New York to view her work. In my impressionable (and theoretically suicidal) youth, I was drawn to Ide's story like a moth to... well, a moth. There is a certain romanticism surrounding suicidal artists and poets, a tradition that flourished from the mid 19th century leading up to its end in Fin de Siecle culture, that "ominous mixture of opulence and/or decadence", Death, and especially suicide, was an obsession amongst the Romantics and their future incarnations, the Symbolists. One might say, the Pre-Raphaelites wouldn't have existed otherwise. Paintings like "The Death of Chatterton" or Millais' "Ophelia" are just two cases in point.

As a young artist - and "Goth" before there was such a thing, the Fin de Siecle held a peculiar fascination for me, and stories like Ide's fit into my personal paradigm like a calla lily in a narrow black vase. But, as a middle-aged woman, and an admittedly failed romantic, I am no longer so sure that Ide took her own life. Certainly death did not help her career in any way. Apart from that one posthumous exhibit, many of her works were destroyed. And, after that exhibit, all mention of Ide seemingly ends. For instance, in researching Ide online, I came up with zip, nada, and nothing. That is, apart from what I imagine are a few of her lesser works up for auction... and even here the artist is referred to as male!

Sakiko Ide - found here

So, perhaps this is the real tragedy. A woman bravely comes to this country alone with hopes of a brighter future and winds up anonymously dead, without warranting even a truncated Wiki entry. So, yes, Sakiko Ide is Patron Saint #6 of Trans-D, but I think my real motivation for this post is to ensure that, at least, there is one article about her online.

In the last analysis, I'm haunted by Ide's chrysanthemums to a greater degree than I am haunted by her suicide, if suicide it was. What did she mean by all these Zen-like constructs, that floated on oceans and hovered in skies, clustered amid fluffy, almost child-like renderings of clouds? In Japan, the chrysanthemum is considered a symbol of the sun and perfection. A Chrysanthemum Festival is held each each year, which is known as the "Festival of Happiness". Ide's last paintings were of single white chrysanthemum "those flowers which faithfully bloom after all the rest of the fragrant species have departed.'" Of these last four canvases, only one remains. A friend recalls that "she bought four large tubes of white paint. I think she was trying to do more."

I think so, too. And this is why I don't necessarily buy the suicide angle. Artists who are obsessed with a subject do not declare "the end" quite so abruptly. Then, too, she had won an award earlier that year at the Silvermine New England Exhibit, as she had the two previous years. It wasn't as if she had no future as an artist, and, as a mature woman in her late 40's, I would suspect that she'd come to terms with the solitary aspect of her life.

One may argue that Sakiko Ide is not to be placed amongst "the greats" - examples of her chrysanthemums hanging alongside Van Gogh's or Monet's is an imppossible occurrance - and that her legacy is of no great loss. I feel differently. "An artist obsessed" is an artist with a voice, with something urgent to say and to which they dedicate their lives in the saying. Relevancy is relevant only to what any single one of us needs to know at any given moment. In the end, an artist can do no more than present a vision, a vision that exists with(in) or without the "eye of the beholder", but a vision that will continue to exist, despite the demise and interment of its creator.

Sakiko Ide - found here

Note: Pending permission from Tricia Vita, the author of the article found in The Feminist Art Journal - a magazine which I still possess and from which I have quoted extensively for this post (and of which there is no online resource) - I will insert page scans here in the future. I believe this article may be the only thing written about her, although, if someone out there has more information, I would be most happy to include it here.

***

UPDATE: For those interested, the PDF file of the article (text) mentioned can be viewed here.

Also, this photo of Sakiko Ide (to your left)  accompanied the article. Click on for a larger view.

Patron Saint #5: Vali Myers, Shamanistic Artist

"The center of life is female - we all come from our mothers. I've always drawn women or female spirits. I feel deeply about this - who gives a damn about some guy on a cross? My mother's creativity was smothered after she married and raised a family, but she was supportive of me - even my father expected me to carry on in her footsteps. I prefer to have no kids but lots of animals."

- Vali Myers, via an 1994 article by Alex Burns found here

After the relatively mechanical compositions of Louis Nevelson, we now arrive on the other side of the artistic spectrum, where we find Vali Myers, an Australian artist, who was born in 1930 and died several years ago, at the age of 73. A pale skinned, red-haired beauty, she was similar to Nevelson, however, in the way that she was known as much for her notorious style as she was for her art; tattooing her face and hands long before "tribal" was so radically chic, and dressing like the mad gypsy she was, dripping with beads and bangles. Legend has it that she also tattooed a thunderbolt on rocker/poet Patti Smith's knee in memory of Crazy Horse, the celebrated Lakota warrior.

She fostered numerous animals; some domestic, some wild. Her familiar or totem animal was the fox. Legend also has it that she owned a large indoor cage, but it was not for her four-legged companions; it was the place she went to do her art - works that were completed in pen and ink using an actual feather quill.

Born in Melbourne, and growing up in Sydney, Australia, she left home at 14 and gravitated to Paris where she struggled as a dancer, and struggled with Parisian authorities over the lack of a visa. After spending time in a French prison she was deported, and went wandering across Europe.

During a second trip to Paris, and now married to the son of a Hungarian gypsy, she befriended such notables as Jean Cocteau, Jean Genet and Sartre. She also befriended opium, and when this "friendship" turned sour, she relocated once again, this time to Italy, to the Positano valley. This became the turning point in her life for it was there that she bonded with an orphaned fox - a relationship that was to last longer than her marriage - and begin the body of work that she is known for today.

She took a teenaged lover at this time - possibly over 20 years her junior - artist Gianni Menichetti, who remained her close companion for the next 30 years, (Menichetti still maintains their original property). They lived for the most part in Positano, once again battling government officials in their efforts to have the valley declared a preserve by the World Wildlife Fund. (They succeeded.)

Meanwhile, in an effort to sell her artwork,  Myers began traveling to Manhattan, occasionally living in the infamous Chelsea Hotel.  She was to become the darling of many of the 70's elite... attracting the likes of Andy Warhol, George Plimpton, Dali, Mick Jagger, and Marianne Faithful, to name a few.

But, eventually she would come full circle and return to Australia where she lived and worked - and commuted to Positano - till she contracted a terminal stomach cancer in 2003. Hers, however, was not really a tragic ending... she died in a Melbourne hospital the same way she lived: fearlessly, and, at the same time, with a sense of humor. Her dying wish was to bequeath the remainder of her life's work to the "great... no bullshit... people of Victoria".

These and other examples of Vali Myers' work can be found here.
(For larger views of two images below, click on the images)

Unlike Louise Nevelson's spare, monochromatic, rectilinear structures, Myer's creations (samples above) were bold, colorful, neo-primative expressions which very often employed the spiral motif and intricate lattice patterns echoing her own tattoos. As it was, many of her images were self-portraits, or visions of herself amid her beloved animals; illuminations that were more informed by the ancient traditions of ritualistic magic than they were by the black-lit psychedelia of her time. Unlike the fashionista of today, Meyers reveled in her spiritualism, a spiritualism that welled up from her like fathomless spring. Had Aliester Crowely been alive, I think he would've turned to Myers to illustrate his famous Tarot.

As a budding artist, I remember first discovering her in the pages of a magazine - I don't remember which - and deciding at once that she was the sort of artist I wanted to be. Of course, when all is said and done, I could never be a Vali Myers... so effortlessly bold, so self-assured, so demonstratively passionate. Vali Myers was that one class act that can't be followed.

Other resources not previously linked to: 

A review of Gianni Menichetti's "Vali Myers: A Memoir" by Louis Landes Levi

The Final Dream of a Bohemian Princess by James Norman

The Outre Gallery page with more examples of Myers' work

Articles found here, and here, and here.

"Letter to Diane & Shelley from Vali"

Note: I was amazed at how many blog entries I found regarding Vali Myers, while researching this post... many of them dated from earlier this year... a veritable Myers constellation!

Patron Saint #4: Louise Nevelson, Assemblage Artist

Louise Nevelson - photo found here

“Humans really are heir to every possibility within themselves, and it is only up to us to admit 

it and accept it. You see, you can buy the whole world and you are empty, but when you 

create the whole world, you are full.” 

- Louise Nevelson, via an interview by Arnold Glimcher “Louise Nevelson Remembered”

One loss that is unlikely to be mentioned during this 9/11 memorial weekend are the works of art destroyed at that time. Which is understandable... the loss of artwork can't really be compared to human lives. As one of the pieces was created by an artist I felt compelled to talk about these past few days, however, I thought it might be mentionable here at this time. The artwork in question was an immense wooden wall sculpture,"Sky Gate - New York" (below), erected in the World Trade Center in 1978. It was created by a Ukrainian, Jewish immigrant named Louise Nevelson who died 10 years later, at the age of 88. Despite her legendary contribution to Abstract Expressionism and contemporary sculpture, hers is unlikely to be a "household name". As one critic wrote at the time of her first exhibition: "We learned the artist was a woman in time to check our enthusiasm. Had it been otherwise, we might have hailed these sculptural expressions as by surely a great figure among moderns."

Nevelson - Sky Gate - NY -1975

Louise Nevelson's birthday is coming up. She was born the 23rd of this month in 1899, and died (you'll note the symmetry) in 1988. She was a late bloomer even by today's standards. She didn't begin exhibiting until she was in her 40's and wasn't really accepted in the art world until her 60's. Even then she was as at least as notorious for her strange costumes and mink false eyelashes ("a cross between Catherine the Great and a bag lady") as she was for her assemblages, which were once described by art historian Robert Rosenblum as being "junkyards of secular carpentry (transformed) into almost sacred altarpieces where light and shadow reign". Actually, this is an apt description... maybe she was unconsciously inspired by her father's ownership of a junkyard, but, in any case, her assemblages were created by found objects, and that which others discarded. She felt that, not only was she recreating the world but that she was likewise rescuing these objects and imbuing them with a new spiritual life.

I find her work enigmatic, futuristic and oddly refreshing; like something that might have lined the space capsule of Nicholas Roeg's "The Man Who Fell to Earth". Two of her works are featured below.

Nevelson - Case with Five Balusters, from Dawn’s Wedding Feast, 1959

Nevelson - Sky Cathedral (detail)

When I found the photo of Nevelson (above - top of post) I was dumbstruck by her powerful beauty and strength of character... I was also conscious of the fact that her variety of beauty is almost impossible to find in today's media circus, and we are all the more poor because of this lack. In reality, the youth of today are being indoctrinated to despise and marginalize the "elderly" and signs of aging in general, and aging women in particular, by the media. In part, this is hype generated by various corporations to sell cosmetics and other products. But, in the case of women, the tragedy is far deeper and more insidious than that. And nowhere is this more clear than in the case of creative, professional women. I'm not referring to the stars of television reality shows; I'm referring to real women who actually accomplish and contribute something enduring and meaningful to the history of human culture. To that end, and, as this is an art blog, I will be doing a series of posts about female artists in the coming weeks. And, like Louise Nevelson, they too, will be patron saints of this blog... courageous, full of beauty and character, and with a genius that is all too often overlooked. And, many of them will have lived and worked to a ripe old age, and not have been any less relevant for it.

Below is a video clip featuring some of Nevelson's works. For a glimpse of a music video inspired by her vision, try Nine Inch Nails'  "Me, I'm Not".
For a lengthy interview with the artist, click here.
The primary quote source for this post was Carol Diehl's Art in America article, "The World of Mrs. N".
Also, I've read that Dawns and Dusks is a definitive Nevelson resource.
And lastly, for those of you who'd love to own a Nevelson original, you might want to look into the work of her granddaughter, Maria... who, and I mean no disrespect, is either channeling her grandmother or is a direct reincarnation.

The Dragon & the Pearl

For readers of my other blog, specifically regarding this post, the origins of this illustration have a special meaning - it began several years ago as a gift for a friend who died before the illustration was completed. She was just a tiny sketch at the time of Mac's death (in 2009) and I was of two minds about proceeding. To be honest with you, had I any idea of just how much time and work would be entailed, I never would've gone beyond that point.


I always did envision her with scaled skin, but no, she's not just your average reptilian. She's Princess Tatiana Drakkorin, and she and her family have descended from dragons.


Of course, when I started this illustration I was not so informed. I was thinking in terms of a lizard princess. It was only after months and months of staring at that face while I set about creating her elaborate costume that I detected a slight resentment in those eyes. But it wasn't until I began creating a fetus that was to be floating in that glass globe between her claws - isn't it always?- that the reality struck me. The fetus, of course, had a tail... but then it sort of grew wings before my eyes - a recessive feature, apparently, as they wither and fall off shortly after birth - and then two things stuck me: 1) Tatiana is a dragon. 2). The fetus looks fricking ridiculous. Without the fetus, of course, I had a rather meaningless glass globe... but then I had the masterstroke of superimposing a pearl over it. At which point, memories of mythology began reverberating in my skull; specifically Asian mythology, which often mysteriously depicts its dragons with pearls - and rather large pearls, at that. Hence, "The Dragon & the Pearl".


But, my imagination didn't stop there. It occurred to me that she'd make a wonderful character in a children's story I'd started years before. It also occurred to me that she and the House Drakkorin eventually fell on hard times, presumably after this portrait was "painted". That, however, is literally another story!


As for her costume, crown, and jewelry, they are all inventions. As with any created image, one thing informs the other in a sheerly subliminal way (when things are working, that is). Gold is not a metal that attracts me, but Tatiana insisted upon it... Well, that's a dragon for you... and there's no point in arguing with them.

The Russian name of Tatiana came to me as the illustration began to take on a Byzantine feel. I was raised as a child with Russian icons surrounding me... so, as I tend to let my unconscious mind do the walking, this sort of thing is inevitable. My muse, incidentally, pretty much avoided this project after the initial stages, though it did put in a few words near the end... it became just myself wrestling with a rather unruly dragon... the moral of the story being: when dealing with reptilians, watch your step!


Oh yeah, below is that fetus - experimentally dropped into the pearl. It is actually a hologram of an unborn Tatiana, which was apparently created as a gift for her by her Grandmother. Now you know.

For a further exploration of Tatiana - an enlargement of her face, and small excerpt from "her story" - click here.

Virtual Reality - (with Addendum, July 19, 2019)

I think the thing I sometimes forget most about "virtual reality" is that it is not reality; it is not even a reflection of reality. It is, at the most, a counterfeit reality, in that it presents us with a view of life, but, intrinsically, it has no life. There is no true life force running through the blips and bytes of the world wide web. Your monitor may light up like a candy store but if you reach your hand in there's nothing there. It may as well be an hallucination. You can't even be sure that those false images that fly before your eyes are the same false images others might be seeing; perception, after all, is a relative, subjective collection of sensations. And, computer monitors are a dime a dozen.


Of course, the same may be said of the "official" reality in which you exist... you can see things and touch things, but beyond that, every now and then it might occur to you that you are, for the most part, living in your head. Meanwhile, communication with other entities is almost an unspoken, subliminal "gentlemen's agreement": let's pretend that what we see has meaning... let's pretend that what we see exists. We're, of course, not seeing the exact same thing, but we can assume our differing viewpoints are similar enough, and we can imagine we're sensing and experiencing similar things. There are, after all, other life forces and senses that come into play within a true life experience.


In virtual reality this is not the case. Along with the falseness of the reality presented, everything false follows in its wake... a false sense of identity, a false sense of camaraderie, a false sense of communication... while, in ones actual reality  - "meatspace", that is - very little is happening. Synapses may click and codes may coalesce, but the vitality, passion, desire and communion - that is, the immeasurable phenomena, or noumena, which truly make us human - is never engaged and will never come across. One might be fooled into thinking otherwise, but this is ultimately a spurious experience. Nothing has happened. One has not grown. Nothing has essentially changed. One may as well sit down and do a crossword puzzle.


Virtual reality then, is nothing more than a shallow mental exercise... a false construct, a false life, a video game. What you see is not what you actually get.


Every now and then, however, a light peeks around the perimeter and one has a moment of clarity and disillusionment; and this moment, I guess, is mine. It will mean nothing to you. Your day will not change, nor will mine. You will not know me any better... I will not know you at all. Several minutes from now, I may change my mind. But it will not matter, and "matter" will not come into play.


And so the game(s) continues...


***


And that, comrades, was a spontaneous essay I posted yesterday on PMB... it was also taken down less than 24 hours after. But, why(?), you ask... (or don't ask, as the case may be).


It's like this, and hear me out. "Spontaneousness" and the internet - specifically in the form of social networking (and while blogging might fit into this category, emails would not) - make disastrous bedfellows, specifically for the creative person. All varieties of monsters may be spawned and the minute they've been spawned on the web, they often cannot be retracted. Not only that, but, let's say you innocently leave a comment on a blog somewhere - worse still, you make a habit of using your real name - well, presto (!), not only are your words carved in cyber-stone on many programs and blogs, but search engines (such as Google) ensure that they can be read world-wide for eternity. I'm not even going to address all the cyber-piranha that might be interested in such innocuous information - in a cumulative sense - for the purposes of profiling.


The real problem arises, however, and this is why this particular post was moved here, is that many artists, writers, musicians, etc. who use a digital medium for their work - and specifically the same computer to both create and access the internet, are not merely leaving their work exposed to predators, but are possibly endangering their psyches as well.


The fact of the matter is, a creative state is an "altered state". The "you" that is operating in an elevated, muse-orientated mist is not the you who should be social networking 10 minutes later. You are still too vulnerable at this time. The spontaneity that you've brought to your work is not going to translate on the WWW. It will not be well-recieved. Essentially, It will not be "received" at all because your audience, those whom you are attempting to communicate with, are simply not operating on the same level as you are. You may as well be "speaking in tongues". Freshly out of creative work, you're virtually naked and in every sense as vulnerable... In other words you have no business being online. Wait for several hours - until your creative high has dissipated - before you go online and visit your favorite haunts. But, even then, keep this in mind:


The internet's real purpose is to distribute information, sell products, and to entertain. All social interaction is generally of the most superficial kind. Do not go online anticipating high communion... the WWW is certainly not the place to bare your soul, and neither is it a place to safely speak your mind. 


Be forewarned. In many ways, the web is outright bullshit, and in time it will only get worse.


UPDATE: 2 other articles that address this subject and might be of interest: click here and here.



For your listening pleasure:




(My special thanks to Greg at The Daily Grail for this inspired video link...)

***

Eight Years in the Future - July 19, 2019

Greetings to whoever is presently reading this post. Well, someone has... and quite recently, too. So, I decided to reread it myself. (Thanks, mysterious human, for bringing this to my attention.)

I think the first and original section of the post - in yellow - is probably where I should have left off. The second part  - the later addition in white - sounds a tad peculiar to me now. I must've been having a really bad day... or felt violated in some way.

Do I still feel as paranoid about the web? Not exactly... I think what bothers me most about the web these days is the rampant capitalistic commercialism... but I'm not even going to go there. My biggest actual fear as a blogger is the fear of being misunderstood... mistranslated, or effectively censored by my lack of commercialization. In any case, things are hardly "indelible" on the web. They vanish all the time. And who cares?

However, if the copy (above) in white should suddenly vanish, well, it isn't magic; its housecleaning.

Okay, well, maybe it is magic in a sense. I'm kind of manipulating the past from the future. Which is cool.

But, you know, I'm not even sure I agree with the first half of this post anymore. In the end, I think i Just like the graphic - that is, the graphic still strikes me as true - in that, what we actively seek on the web - though seldom get - is a mind-meld.  I also like the comment section... I love positive feedback. Well, okay, I love any feedback... so, thanks LC and BG from the present future past! Whatever.

So, as it now stands: I may erase this entire post except for the graphic, this addendum, and the comments. I'm not even sure the video is still present... on my browser its a black hole. Anyway, call it Art... the Art of Creating Missing Information. Very existential, no? ;-)

Still Life With Artificial Life-Forms

(This is a follow-up post to the post in which I introduced an ALF in fossilized form...)


(Way) back when, that is, when I was in my early 20's... I was walking along the beach one night, when what to my eyes did appear but a tiny blue light in the sand near the receding water's edge. But, what's that (!), I thought as I drew closer; some sort of alien jewel that's just dropped from the sky? (I have always been exceedingly imaginative) Crouching down, I lifted the little thing on a flat shell that was conveniently sitting nearby, and closely inspected it.

It was a transparent, gelatinous, elliptical little blob - a little over an inch in length... the blue light I saw was actually a perfectly designed clump of filaments upon which a blue glow travelled along like electricity on a strange sort of organic circuit. I was absolutely mesmerized; it was simply the most beautiful, magical thing I ever saw.

Years later, when I began creating my mysterious artificial life-forms, it wasn't until I sketched ALF #4 (above and below) that my beach incident came back to me... because, in the last analysis, that little "gooseberry" - what I came to discover was a variety of "comb jelly" - was the major unconscious focal point of my inspiration: recapturing that wonderful enchantment of finding a living creature that is just so amazing that it's almost beyond description.

Were you one of those kids that used to dig in your back yard - or somebody else's back yard - looking for some sort of mysterious treasure? Well, that was me as a child... and the weird thing is, I had no conscious idea of what I was looking for or what I hoped to find... it was almost an instinct... in that, I knew there were mysterious, wonderful things to be found in this life, and I was on some mission to discover them. And, I never lost that child's instinct. Only, instead of becoming an archaeologist or a marine biologist in the real world - which I could've done had I had that option - I did my digging inwardly, searching for imaginal treasures. I guess, at some point, I realized that it wasn't really the official world I was most entranced with... and there was nowhere else I could go apart from an imaginal world... hence, I became the mad artist I am! ;-)

(Pictured at the beginning of the post: another species of ALF (and a detail) in what is more a 2-dimensional diorama than it is a "still life"... I just happen to find the idea of ALF's in "still life" artworks more... well, ironic.)

For those (immortal children) who might be interested, here's a Youtube video of some comb jellies (above). I like this film but I have a different soundtrack going through my head... the same soundtrack that always filters through my head when I'm doing ALF work - my favorite Radiohead tune and, possibly, my favorite tune of all time: "All I Need". I found a Youtube selection for it that I'll post below... mainly because something about the song and the images (from the 1996 French film "Microcosmos") are fitted perfectly together (by J. Tyler Helms), and intimate what moves me most as an artist: the unparalleled (and heart-wrenching) beauty of  minutiae in the natural, organic world.

Following the Muse - the Psychopomp

(From an essay I wrote in May of this year...)

The word "psychopomp" originated in Greek mythology and was a guide of souls to the place of the dead (from psukhe "soul" and pompos "conductor"). It is generally defined, however, as the spiritual guide of a living person's "soul".


But who or what is the muse and how is it related to the psychopomp? That is a question that cannot be answered by any direct means. It can only be approached in terms of ones own personal journey as an artist and/or "creative", and, therefore, any conclusions that one draws are at once subjective.


In my experience, the muse is what brings me to the computer, the drawing board, the clay, the colored pencils, the notebook. It is what attracts me to shells, stones, leaves, insects, the organic detritus beneath a rotting tree, or, conversely, a pretty piece of fabric, an antique button, the rusted components of a broken machine. It is the muse which is peering through my eyes at such discoveries... and the muse who will eventually dictate how these various items will be utilized and/or absorbed for our creations.


I say "our" because the muse - one of several - is my collaborator. It is intrinsically part of my psyche, but it is not the me who fries an egg, goes to the grocery store, pays a bill, draws a bath. This is an important distinction. This is why, the inspired artist, the artist in the throes of possession by the muse, is almost useless and inept at any variety of mundane mechanics; that is, temporarily disabled regarding the physical, technical, and social resources required for corporeal existence.


The muse then is more like a primal force. It has no understanding or interest in the technical aspects of day-to-day human life. It has no comprehension of grocery lists, retirement funds, lawsuits, political issues. It doesn't even understand the most base requirements of physical existence, such as eating or sleeping.


In many ways the muse is like a monkey on your back; a drug, no less powerful than any other addiction. I suspect, not even death can shake it. Like a drug it enhances your perception of the world; and it enables you to internalize what you perceive... hence, the photographic memory, the music in ones head like continual white-noise... and the holographic imprints of loved ones who never die. Those who follow the muse are haunted... haunted by a personal past and haunted by objective futures that can never be realized in a single life.


The muse stands outside of time, and in muse-space, a space of no dimension, time has no relative meaning. "Missing time" is a frequent occurrence.


The muse is not human. It is not the least bit interested in what humans do or what humans are. It has no concept of marriage, procreation, holidays, burial plots. Which is not to say that the muse is disconnected from the libido.... no, in fact, the muse seems to have a very peculiar relationship to ones sexuality... but, once again, in a primal way... the muse is bored by particulars. The muse is fed by sexual energy but it also generates a variety of quasi-libidinous force, though it is wrong to assume that the muse is merely a product of ones hormones. The muse is perhaps the one facet of human experience which is independent of ones hormones.


To follow the muse (and/or muses) then is to walk a weird tightrope, between the creative dictates of the muse and the dictates of ones physical, emotional, and social reality. The former often has no relation to the latter, and this is difficult for almost anyone to grasp. The modern human tends to think in terms of an ideally homogenous, holistic existence, but, for an artist, this is almost as impossible as driving a car and "reaching for the stars" simultaneously. So, achieving this delicate balance between art via the muse, and life via you, is the greatest challenge the artist must face. Success seems to be rarely possible. The more "inspired" an artist is, the greater the chance that, like the fool in the tarot cards focused on an air-borne butterfly, he or she falls off a cliff.


Following the muse then is a precarious journey. The muse, seemingly, must be tamed and we must not become so enthralled that we lose footing. It is a dilemma that all creative people face... but, in this society, one that especially is challenging for those of the female gender. But, that's another story. And, there is a great deal more to be said about the muse. For I haven't really defined it in these paragraphs. Ultimately, it might be beyond definition. It is one of the "others", or perhaps the only "other" a human can intimately know... a creative force, at once subjective, and yet capable of interfacing with forces and transdimensional or transpersonal intelligences greater than itself. It is, in my opinion, the vestige of a primary intelligent force. It is an individual's "knowing" force. It is also a force with, seemingly no other agenda, but to express, create and explicate.


I was once told by a friend and fellow creative, that life must be very difficult for me. When I asked why, grappling for words, the friend said that I seemed to live at a "higher frequency". Apart from possibly intimating several psychological disorders, it is possible that the term frequency - defined as: The rate at which a vibration occurs that constitutes a wave, either in a material (as in sound waves), or in an electromagnetic field (as in radio waves and light), usually measured per second. The particular waveband at which a radio station or other system broadcasts or transmits signals. - might actually be, in some way, related to the muse and other "paranormal" (i.e., transdimensional) experiences. That is to say, the space which we live within and which "lives" within us may be teeming with codified information... and it's merely a matter of what wavelengths we're willing an/or able to tune in into and our ability to translate the information we "pick up".

***

For those, interested, I've just updated my July 13 post to reflect a link to new short video by Tara Sophia Mohr regarding "fear" that might resonate with you, regardless of gender.

Creating Art: a Mediumistic Experience

Monochromatic Whisper (Trans-Fossil) - Digital - 2012, 2011, Dia Sobin

And, by that, I am not referring to the materials, i.e., "mediums" used by an artist... I am instead referring to something more in line with a "psychic" medium, but not in reference to communicating with dead entities - though this actually may be the case for some artists.  I am referring to art which is, in a sense, a collaboration with entities or an intelligence that very well may be a reflection of ones unconscious self but, in my experience, feel(s) somewhat "other".

I generally refer to this unseen, but felt and/or intuited, entity as my "muse". Artists traditionally have muses, of course, but these are generally women-in-the-flesh for whom a male artist is inspired by. I am referring to an incorporeal intelligence. One who informs regarding ones work, but  generally doesn't impinge on ones life otherwise. I am also referring to an experience more subtle than the paranormal exercise of "channeling;"in this case, an actual separate human personality is not necessarily involved.

I note this interesting definition of the word "medium" in my computer's dictionary:

"the intervening substance through which impressions are conveyed to the senses or a force acts on objects at a distance" which, oddly enough - as its referring to material objects in a physical sense - might be weirdly relevant here... the muse certainly seems like a "non-local" entity.

In many ways, the attribution of something essentially of a metaphysical or spiritual nature seems incongruous with something so mechanical as a computer.... but, in my experience, as I was becoming increasingly involved in digital art, another muse seemed to increasingly emerge. While I have been an artist almost as long as I've been alive - and we're talking over 40 years - and have always been closely in touch with several muses (depending upon the project at hand), the feeling of a collaboration with an "other" was never as strong as it was when I "went digital" so to speak. It's very weird... I'd be interested to know if I am alone in this experience. Are we talking about a phenomenon that is electrically-enhanced? Are we talking perhaps about the ways in which the "psychic internet" can interact with the WWW or vice versa? Just wondering.

The image above is entitled "Monochromatic Whisper". I chose this image to illustrate this post because the "whisper" of my muse - as an "alien" intelligence - is very much prominent here. The foundation for the image was a photo of a one-celled creature I found online which I thought was rather interesting but, as I was looking for a different reference, I passed it by. My muse, however, felt differently... and, before I knew it, this one-celled creature was transforming into a fossilized version of something my muse and I have been producing a whole series of images of these past few years; that is, a number of small, artificial life forms of varying "species". Part organic, and part mechanical, the life forms originate in some imaginary future - a time and, indeed, a place, my muse understands far better than I. I had never even contemplated a fossilized ALF before, so, this one was a revelation. More ALFs will be appearing on Trans-D in the future... and I have more to say about them*. But, suffice to say now, this variety of transfiguration is an example of where my muse shines, and regardless of what anyone may see or not see, I will never question the integrity of the muse in this matter. Thematically (and, very often technically) it's word is gospel! **

Meanwhile, I did write a short essay about muses earlier this year; it will appear, following this post, in "Following the Muse - the Psychopomp". But, as always, if you are a creative and you suspect you are working with a muse, I'd be very interested in what you have to say! The subject of muses usually follows the individual artist to the grave and no one is ever the wiser. But if Transdimensionalism is ever to be understood, then I believe that all of our "others", regardless of how we experience them, must be accounted for. Science may discount subjective, anecdotal, imaginal and intuitive experience, but art wouldn't exist without it.

* see Still Life With Artificial Life Forms

** ... and somewhat prescient... as in, what goes around, comes around... see the end of this 2014 post.

For Women Everywhere...

No, this is not a feminist blog in the political sense... but, I just came upon a web article that not only applies to artists like Agnes Pelton - who "fell through the cracks" - but women everywhere who are trying to be seen and heard, but are almost programmed to fail; if not by the dictates of a male-dominated society or culture, then by inner psychological issues that, sadly, come with the female gender's territory.


The article is "10 Rules of Brilliant Women" by Tara Sophia Mohr... and if you, as a woman, regardless of your calling or present status, automatically assume that the rules couldn't possibly apply to you - well, therein lies the problem!

***

UPDATE 7/27/11

"I often feel a great deal of fear when I sit down to write," she says. "If I'm saying something that is controversial or even just really vulnerable and bold, it becomes really hard to overcome it and press send. If I think of it as yirah, as a kind of sacredness that is part of my creative process, as awe of what it is to share what I think with the world, then I'm able to actually enjoy it and get a little excitement out of it and even want to write the kind of pieces that bring out that feeling."

- Tara Sophia Mohr, via a Big Think article 7/27/11

I am updating this space with a link to a Big Think page featuring a short video by Tara Sophia Mohr (see above) regarding the issue of fear. This is not a for-women-only nor a for-creatives-only presentation... I think it's something anyone can benefit from. Video link is here.