Artistic Inspirations

There are so many breathtakingly-beautiful sights in this part of the world, and consequently, throughout the course of the day, I am tempted to take yet another picture to "capture" that beauty. After all, it seems that every day I walk down the same cobblestone-paths to find that the sun's rays have accentuated more/newer detail along the winding, narrow streets of ancient architecture and time-stained edifaces. And yet, leaving the bustling back streets of the "downtown," you're more than likely to stumble upon a flower-ridden park, or a riverbend/quai lined with lazy Weeping Willows, and monstrueuse Platagne trees.

Whether due to the quotidien-visual treats, or the loneliness, (here thinking that perhaps "art" often substitutes, and meanwhile searches-out human-connectivity/understanding and appreciation?) since I have lived in France (far from and out of contact with the majority of friends and family) I've had the strangest urges and hankering needs to express myself artistically...

Yet, in the beginning, I had no idea HOW I was to express myself, what I was to DO, or exactly why "I should" DO ANYTHING...? (I never knew myself to be any kind of artist whatsover!)

In addition, I believed that ART was obliged to communicate some kind of message, lesson or hidden-sentiment in order for it to be considered "aesthetic" or artistically "meaningful" or valuable, thus making it difficult to proceed; for, I knew couldn't produce something "useful," or "insightful," at least "not NOW" - "NOT YET..."

So, I tried dancing, thinking I could get pleasure out of the activity while expressing myself artistically - getting exercise, appreciating music all the while. Unfortunately my attempts were quickly denied, but I'll get to that one later in speaking about French MEN.

I then tried drawing, but found that I questioned myself too much, asking "what" I was to draw, being so focused on "the point" of the activity itself...and even when I finished completing the drawings, I was never satisfied with the result, the product - my creation. It never fitted my "expectations..."

Writing poetry was even worse in the beginning. Every time I put a pen to the page, I felt like I was back in highschool, tackling a forced homework assignment (especially since I've never been all that fond or appreciative of poetry, for whatever reason).

Writing short movie-scripts then became a hobby of mine, but the lack of visual-detail and expression left me really frustrated, preventing me from continued the efforts...(after all, I'm not so great at decribing visual/situational DETAIL - at least not as well as I imagine/"picture" things in my mind.)

I resolved to writing e-mails, writing friends...reflecting upon the daily life; thinking about other peoples' lives rather than further attempting artistic expression; after all, a lot had been going on "under my radar," back at home: for instance, I missed 3 weddings, 1 divorce, as well as my sister's first home-purchase. One should think I had enough material to keep my head spinning for a while.

Unfortunately, in turning to "emails," as my one sole form of expression, I quickly learned that I could not and cannot/should not rely upon OTHERS to satisfy this (human/basic) need "to communicate." Friends are often too busy in their own goings on to respond to anything in-depth, professors are too busy preparing classes, family members too "close" to provide unbiased feeback...

Something else "had" to be done if I was not to feel...so anxious...!

But, ironically, without DOING anything (that is; as soon as I stopped searching for outlets) many thoughts started to stream through my mind, and at the strangest of moments...

1) It was a cold and rainy late-Friday afternoon, and I had just finished teaching 4 classes at Sturm. The day was less than superb with the kids, and for that reason, I was a bit down. Nevertheless, I knew it wasn't yet time to celebrate the weekend's coming, for I had to babysit in 3 hours...which I wasn't particularly looking forward to that evening.

Since it was so icky outside, I decided to go warm up at a café, hoping I'd get "in the mood." I ordered 2 glasses of Bordeaux (my favorite), and read a book (Lol V. Stein) for a little while. After "warming up" sufficiently, I still had 1.5 hours to kill (and, biking home 30mins only to return after 30mins time was not an option for obvious reasons) so, I hit the streets with my umbrella.

In wearing high heels, (which is a rare occasion for me, and probably not the most clever of choices in Strasbourg) I was able to experience an artistic insight that evening in the rain; for it was in listening to the music of the rain pitter-pattering, alongside my heels clicking and clacking the cobblestone, that my eyes were drawn to my footing. The glowing lights from the street lamps and store windows were reflecting off of the cobblestone in the most magnificent of ways...(and NO, I had NOT smoked anything!) So I kept walking along, noting all of the different patterns, designs and playful mingled suggestions of water with light and stone. I snapped one photo after the next, without thinking about it, and suddenly thought..."wow...a cobblestone collage is something I'd love to document and frame in my (future) home!" The more I thought of the idea, the more I liked it...for it would represent my FOOTING in Strasbourg, representing all the places I've been - my chosen PATHS, which would be inevitably linked to the millions of feet that had been there before. Since then, I've snapped pictures of "my feet" in some of my favorite "footings"...nuzzled in the sand at the ocean, hiking a vineyard up some earthy terrain, in historical settings such as Avignon...

2) At another moment, I was TEACHING class when an artistic insight/inspiration came to mind. Having assigned an exercise to perform in silence, I more easily overheard the cathedrale bells clanging at 3'oclock. "Ahhhhh...the Cathedrale bells. How I LOVE their melodious songs!" Upon the last striking sound, I was further distanced from "work" and more concentrated on the "things I love about France," contemplating an addition to my cobblestone collection, adding to it "the dirty, the funny, and the beautiful: sights, sounds and smells of Alsace..." In it, I would compile photos of dog poop (found SMEARED across, or in large "piles" upon the pedestrian sidewalks and major walk-ways), along with recordings of the bells and the live musicians (my favorite: the accordian players!) and all the flowers-galore. Although I haven't put this idea to work, I still think it would be fun to document!

3) Most notably, when I TRAVEL (on airplanes and on trains) I have entreprenurial insights. One involves automobiles, another involves locamotive cigarette-disposal (both of which only my closest family and friends are privy to know...) and the two remaining deal with reading-ease in travel, and space-savers. For some reason, these things come to mind when I LEAST expect them to...a real example of the "unexpected, sudden" insight - as Lonergan notes in his book, INSIGHT.

4) And, despite my resistance (by force) in writing poetry, I've poured out endless poems since last spring's coming, perhaps in trying to find the words, and SENSE to understand the feelings I had been undergoing, and the mysterious/cathartic...often very violent/gory dreams I had been having.

Until just recently, I had often linked artistic expression with 'inwardness,' subjectivity, weakness, and even mental instability (hence the stereo-type/image of the greatests artists...) and had perhaps been resistant to REALIZE my need to express myself. Now, after 25years of denying childish-creativity, I realize the joy of artistic creation (as an activity) as opposed to the "usefulness" of the product. I still wonder if, perhaps I had always shunned the "less pragmatic" due to lingering (confused) images of my mother (who is not only an artist, but is "labeled" as mentally-ill by the medical-industry) and my father (the engineer).

In any case, when I was thinking about THIS subject, I happened to bump into my sister on facebook-chat. There and then, she had remarked the sheer quantity of photographs I've collected (and posted) that revolve around boats and ships...saying something along the lines: "you're as much a boat as I am a mountain."

I envisioned what she was saying, literally. She is a mountain; I am a boat...my father an airplane...my mom a pioneering-wagon, filled-to-the-brim and rumbling across the harsh lands...we'd all fit together - our little neuroses and instabilities...our artistic, entreprenurial and engineering-like inspirations...

After all...what constitutes "NORMAL" is something that has forever racked my brain. Pirsig's LILA got me thinking about it all the more, and not to mention the movie, Revolutionary Road, and my friendships with less-than "typical" persons :-) However, I suppose this topic is leaving the subject of ART, and must arise in a later entry...

These ENTRIES btw, (this blog in general) is the "online" version of my REAL "artistic" endeavor, which is to be continued...