Where is the quiet moment. Darned if I can tell it’s just too moisy here.
This morning just before I stepped into the shower I wondered where my focus was. Maybe a foot or two in front of my eyes. Sometimes the focus is inside my mind. Sometimes it is the object I’m viewing. An artist has a talent. An artist can enter that point of focus right there on the very surface of the canvas. At that point a good artist can create a world. Some artists get caught by the scene in front of their eyes. They technically reproduce it very well but there is no life to it. There is no spirit. There is no soul. There is just a good technical painting.
Many of us are quick to praise the technical painting. We purchase the painting, rush it home and skewer it to our wall. Bam! It hangs there like a butterfly pinned in a collection. It collects dust and rave reviews. Oh isn’t it just wonderful.
Sometimes I catch myself looking at the wrong point. A spot on the television screen as the talking heads scream their opinions at others who do not listen well. I catch myself watching television shows that should have remained concepts. I listen to music that is technically magnificent but the musicians just play the notes and mouth the words.
I think that is why I like some of the old blues records. They sat the musician down and said, “play.” He/she did and the music was captured right then and there. No second takes with digital overdubbing. One shot. Here’s your money. Next. And I laugh. Sounds like the life of a whore. It was but I think the recording person was the one selling himself. The artist just spit out a tune and left.
I remember a professor. Great reviews. Bogus professor. This professor pontificated about art and knew absolutely nothing about it. Art without soul is just another cadaver waiting to be picked apart and buried.
So there.
