Apologies for coming late to this party. I've enjoyed the varied opinions here. This is not a response to anyone in particular here, just sharing some perspectives.
I have increasingly wrestled with the nature of "art" the past few years (more on the music front, but it is similar). For much of my adult life I considered myself to be an "artist" and "musician" (or at least a "wannabe" of both). For a fair bit of that time it was also a significant source of suffering.
- "Why oh why am I forced to take this desk job to make ends meet? Poor me!"
- "I gave up on my dreams. I am a sellout / loser."
It seemed that because the creative process often produces an artifact - "a thing", the creator must also be turned into "a thing" - an "artist". Over time I came to see the error in this, and realize that most of the angst I was suffering was caused by the verb "to be". Letting go of the labels (e.g. "artist") was hugely freeing. The creative process is a verb, a doing not a being. In Zenny language, I guess I would say, "When writing music, write music. When sketching, sketch." This sounds so obvious to me now, but for many years I simply could not see it.
Anyhow, that isn't really what I wanted to post about though. ^_^
Over the past two or three years I have been struggling with something new, one directly related to practice and the creative process. I am not sure I can put it all into words, but here are some aspects:
- Practice has knocked down the foundation of symbol for me. I have little or nothing to say anymore, and when I do have something to say, words, sounds and images feel completely and totally inadequate. A bow says it instead maybe?
- Question: is it possible to truly put down the self when we create, or does it only ever feed the self/ego? Han Shan wrote his poems on rocks around Cold Mountain, but we still read them over a thousand years later. In practice we put down "self" or at least any ownership or claim to it. Getting up off the cushion to engage the creative process feels like reifying the self all over again.
- Art can feel manipulative (it might even be inherently so) - we are projecting our own consciousness out into the world with the express goal of manipulating another's consciousness. Want to make someone sad - use a minor chord. Want to make them angry, pick up the tempo and use more dissonance. Want to express distance - use muted tones and lighter colors. Etc. etc. The best artists use this to great effect - like sorcerers! Should we even engage in such acts, and if so, doesn't it come with a huge obligation?
A few months ago my son and I were on a trip, and we listened to "In a Silent Way" by Miles Davis. He said something that has really stuck with me - something along the lines of "This music does not have a reason - it does not tell a story, or try to get people to dance, it is just music for its own sake." I've tried to integrate that lesson. In the creative process, I do not try to tell a story, make a statement about the world, or induce some mood in the viewer or listener.
I guess I try to just do what I do, the artifact / outcome is secondary. Perhaps this is not unlike some of our practice (such as Metta), we do what we do with the best of intentions, letting go of outcomes.
Not sure though, the ground is very shaky here.
"Here, I created this composition to illustrate the nature of the human condition vis-a-vis old age, sickness, and death." >>>
"Here, I created this composition to express my suffering of old age, sickness, and death." >>>
"Here, I created this composition to express suffering." >>>
"Here, I created this composition." >>>
"Here, this composition" >>>
"this composition" >>>
???
Gassho,
Sekishi
#sattoday
I have increasingly wrestled with the nature of "art" the past few years (more on the music front, but it is similar). For much of my adult life I considered myself to be an "artist" and "musician" (or at least a "wannabe" of both). For a fair bit of that time it was also a significant source of suffering.
- "Why oh why am I forced to take this desk job to make ends meet? Poor me!"
- "I gave up on my dreams. I am a sellout / loser."
It seemed that because the creative process often produces an artifact - "a thing", the creator must also be turned into "a thing" - an "artist". Over time I came to see the error in this, and realize that most of the angst I was suffering was caused by the verb "to be". Letting go of the labels (e.g. "artist") was hugely freeing. The creative process is a verb, a doing not a being. In Zenny language, I guess I would say, "When writing music, write music. When sketching, sketch." This sounds so obvious to me now, but for many years I simply could not see it.
Anyhow, that isn't really what I wanted to post about though. ^_^
Over the past two or three years I have been struggling with something new, one directly related to practice and the creative process. I am not sure I can put it all into words, but here are some aspects:
- Practice has knocked down the foundation of symbol for me. I have little or nothing to say anymore, and when I do have something to say, words, sounds and images feel completely and totally inadequate. A bow says it instead maybe?
- Question: is it possible to truly put down the self when we create, or does it only ever feed the self/ego? Han Shan wrote his poems on rocks around Cold Mountain, but we still read them over a thousand years later. In practice we put down "self" or at least any ownership or claim to it. Getting up off the cushion to engage the creative process feels like reifying the self all over again.
- Art can feel manipulative (it might even be inherently so) - we are projecting our own consciousness out into the world with the express goal of manipulating another's consciousness. Want to make someone sad - use a minor chord. Want to make them angry, pick up the tempo and use more dissonance. Want to express distance - use muted tones and lighter colors. Etc. etc. The best artists use this to great effect - like sorcerers! Should we even engage in such acts, and if so, doesn't it come with a huge obligation?
A few months ago my son and I were on a trip, and we listened to "In a Silent Way" by Miles Davis. He said something that has really stuck with me - something along the lines of "This music does not have a reason - it does not tell a story, or try to get people to dance, it is just music for its own sake." I've tried to integrate that lesson. In the creative process, I do not try to tell a story, make a statement about the world, or induce some mood in the viewer or listener.
I guess I try to just do what I do, the artifact / outcome is secondary. Perhaps this is not unlike some of our practice (such as Metta), we do what we do with the best of intentions, letting go of outcomes.
Not sure though, the ground is very shaky here.
"Here, I created this composition to illustrate the nature of the human condition vis-a-vis old age, sickness, and death." >>>
"Here, I created this composition to express my suffering of old age, sickness, and death." >>>
"Here, I created this composition to express suffering." >>>
"Here, I created this composition." >>>
"Here, this composition" >>>
"this composition" >>>
???
Gassho,
Sekishi
#sattoday
Comment