On Commitment - from Letters to a Young Artist

I stumbled upon the lovely book Letters to a Young Artist: Building a Life in Art by Julia Cameron at the Dusty Bookshelf this week. A series of letters to recipient "X," the book has been a soothing, challenging, and much appreciated voice at this juncture in my life.

I would like to share a brief letter with you. Questions of commitment and career have been swirling in my mind of late, and I found this particularly reassuring.

Toodles,
~m



Dear X,

You ask me if your commitment to making art makes you incapable of other commitments. To the contrary. Our commitment to our art trains us in the art of commitment. From it, we learn dailiness. We learn to just show up, setting aside our current mood. We learn to live one day at a time and we learn that each day builds one upon the next. Committed to our art, we learn to keep the drama on the page -- or stage, or easel -- and not place it where it doesn't belong, namely, in our relationship. Our commitment to art teaches us the value of consistency. It teaches us the value of longevity. It teaches us integrity, practicality, generosity. If we are willing to learn, there is very little our commitment to art can't teach us -- and most especially in the realm of commitment. And so, yes, use your commitment to art as a model for your art of commitment. Did I say "Congratulations"? I think you will like "officially" living together.

"If you think too long, you're wrong."

On again, Eric Whitacre has sent a singing arrow of truth right to my heart. I'm going to take the luxury to quote his whole post on my blog, you can check out the BCM International website and discussion for more gems.

Refreshing.

~m



Hmm...

To quote an old friend of mine, "If you think too long, you're wrong."

I think that if you want to compose, you should start today. Just try it. Write what you know, even if it means writing a one minute piece for solo tuba.

I think it's not at all productive (or reasonable) to think that you need to have training to be a composer. Take a small idea, work and work and work on it, perform it in front of real people, and boom... you're a composer.

Of course you'll make mistakes, and sometimes fall on your face, but THAT IS THE POINT. You will learn so much about composing by just trying to compose.

Once you're in school, you'll learn all kinds of things that will broaden your mind as a composer, and all kinds of things that will just mess you up in the head. School will be good for you, and you should go, even as a comp major if you can get in. But it won't turn you into a composer. It will just give you some ideas to try out.

Remember, it's YOUR LIFE. If you are one of the lucky ones who has found something that you love then it's your sacred duty to pursue it until you don't love it anymore.

And by the way, you talked about "not knowing where to start." THAT is composition. I feel that way every time I write something. Just put something down on paper and start working, and working, and working. Read books, look at other scores, talk to composers, drink coffee, whatever it takes to make something that you like. But don't worry, the worst thing that can happen is that you'll make something that SUCKS, and if that happens, well... welcome to the club! Just keep working on it until it doesn't suck, and then try it again. And again. It's a life of joy and reward, I tell ya .

GOOD LUCK!

e

Legislators of the World

In our dark times we need poetry more than ever, argues Adrienne Rich

There is an interesting article by poet Adrienne Rich in the Saturday, November 18, 2006, online edition of The Guardian. Entitled "Legislators of the World," Rich discusses poetry's influence in the world -- its limitations and its potential.

In "The Defence of Poetry" 1821, Shelley claimed that "poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world"....And Shelley was, no mistake, out to change the legislation of his time. For him there was no contradiction between poetry, political philosophy, and active confrontation with illegitimate authority. For him, art bore an integral relationship to the "struggle between Revolution and Oppression". His "West Wind" was the "trumpet of a prophecy", driving "dead thoughts ... like withered leaves, to quicken a new birth".

She concludes that:

There is always that in poetry which will not be grasped, which cannot be described, which survives our ardent attention, our critical theories, our late-night arguments. There is always (I am quoting the poet/translator Américo Ferrari) "an unspeakable where, perhaps, the nucleus of the living relation between the poem and the world resides".

I can see myself hurtling toward that "where" in my own artistic journey in the long term. I find myself holding my breath as I encounter the horrors, tragedy, confusion, and banality of the world, and I anxiously await the day those apprehensions ripen into mature artistic expression. The work of social justice seems so overwhelming to me, but I find that exploring what's "complicated" in art forces a shift in me.

Perhaps in that shift the world moves too.

Blogging Revival: One of the 8 Keys to Success

Exploding Tulip is revived once more.

Hello everyone,
I have been immersed in my academic pursuits for the last couple months, and I felt like posting again. I came across a very insightful article on The 8 Keys to Success from David Lyman.

"David Lyman is an artist, entrepreneur, adventurer and workshop leader. He founded The Maine Photographic Workshops in 1973, then founded Rockport College in 1996—a conservatory based on the intuitive artist’s path. In a career that spans 50 years, he has sailed oceans (solo); climbed mountains, skied down glaciers, been a radio personality, publisher, magazine writer, photographer, producer and filmmaker, and college president."

I can see myself taking a similarly entrepreneurial approach to education at some point in my life...but that's for a different blog post. :)

Back to the article, one of the points spoke to me in particular: 4. Persistence.

Lyman writes:

It will take 10 years before you can use the craft to hear what your inner artist has to say. I have asked hundreds of accomplished photographers, writers, filmmakers, painters and musicians how long it took before they felt they were speaking from a source within. Ten years has been their unanimous answer.

If it takes ten years, then how to spend the time wisely? It will take, in my estimation, 2 years to acquire 70% of the craft you will need to work in your medium. It will take another 8 years to acquire the next 20% of your craft. At 90%, you will have mastered your craft, but there is that 10% that will take a lifetime to acquire. In the meantime, while working to master your craft (the technical and methods of working in a medium) you will also be learning and acquiring a personal vision, your ability to see, to observe, to create and discover things. This is difficult at first, but the older you get the wiser and more aware, the more perceptive you become. Craft and vision are your tools for inner exploration.

As I sat in my composition professor's office for the first time, I realized that I was just about to start this ten year journey. All the struggling up until that moment had just been to get me into the room. Now the real work begins.

To be even more realistic, my two years of acquiring 70% of my craft might officially begin in the fall. While all I am doing now is nurturing my development, I spend only a precious fraction of my time applying my knowledge and learning my craft. That is true for now. Not forever. Right now, I'm pouring cement. Laying a foundation.

Hope you enjoyed my return to blogging. Comments, yeah?

m

Let Your Life Speak

Well, so much for consistent posting. :)

Right now, I will leave you with a selection from Parker Palmer's book "Let Your Life Speak." Enjoy.

Toodles,
m

A third shadow common among leaders is "functional atheism," the belief that ultimate responsibility for everything rests with us. This is the unconscious, unexamined conviction that if anything decent is going to happen here, we are the ones who must make it happen...It often eventuates in burnout, depression, and despair, as we learn that the world will not bend to our will and we become embittered about that fact....We learn that we need not carry the whole load but can share it with others, liberating us and empowering them. We learn that sometimes we are free to lay the load down altogether. The great community asks us to do only what we are able and trust the rest to other hands.

A fourth shadow within and among us is fear, especially our fear of the natural chaos of life. Many of us -- parents and teachers and CEOs -- are deeply devoted to eliminating all remnants of chaos from the world. We want to organize and orchestrate things so thoroughly that messiness will never bubble up around us and threaten to overwhelm us (for "messiness" read dissent, innovation, challenge, and change)....The insight we receive on the inner journey is that chaos is the precondition to creativity: as every creation myth has it, life itself emerged from the void. Even what has been created needs to be returned to chaos from time to time so that it can be regenerated in more vital form....

The gift we receive on the inner journey is the knowledge that death finally comes to everything -- and yet death does not have the final word. By allowing something to die when its time is due, we create the conditions under which new life can emerge.

A return to blogging...

It's been almost two months since I've blogged. A great deal has happened that has both nothing and everything to do with music. Now I'm back to announce the following:

Eric Whitacre's Paradise Lost: Opera Electronica will have a six week run in LA from approximately July 19 - September 2, 2007. You can read more about it on his myspace site.

For all of you who have heard one or more of my effusive descriptions of Whitacre and his works, this is your chance to see what I'm talking about!!!


Ah, it's good to be back. :)
Megan

longevity

"I have 10 experiences a day that touch my heart. That is my secret for longevity."

Ms Kazue Kato,
the first woman member of the National Diet of Japan,
on her 100th birthday