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Posted on 9/30/2018 12:08:29 PM
By Donald Fox
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Open Windows
This was written a few days ago, but I have not had opportunity to post until now. Ninth month of the year. Twenty-seventh day of the month reminds me of the science fiction movie The 27th Day from when I was a kid. This is one of many random associations with that number noted while sitting in a workshop focused on using forms of technology in the classroom.
During the fifties and early sixties there were many stories about encounters with advanced civilizations that used technological advantage over the less technically skilled Earthlings. Implications were that the aliens were insensitive (and therefore seen as evil) to concerns of our planet. Secondly, these god-like aliens were a form of judgment visited upon a planet of divided and squabbling humans (in many cases they stood in for communist threats during post-WW II paranoia). Ultimately, the struggle in most of these stories is some variation on the idea that when pressed, humans will unite and through unity defeat whatever foe challenges them regardless how advanced the foe may be. In essence, the deep-seated human capacity for empathy and connection is stronger than any technological force. In The 27th Day it is human character that saves the day.
This idea reminds me of William Faulkner’s Nobel Prize acceptance speech wherein he references the old “verities of the heart” as the true expression of literature and the arts. Any art that does not address the issues and the essence of human spirit from which they are expressions is art that is bankrupt, empty, and devoid of purpose. It is through art that humanity finds its best self reflected. Art is a hand that raises up all who open themselves to its touch and embrace. Join hands, then, in the grip that maintains unity.
Posted on 9/23/2018 6:21:21 PM
By Donald Fox
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PBS is currently airing a program titled The Great American Read. Part of this is a contest where anyone can vote for his or her favorite novel to determine which books are most popular and which one might be the most popular. What’s more interesting and valuable, though, is that a variety of people – educators, writers, and ordinary people – speak about their experiences with a particular book, and most importantly, how that book changed their lives.
Often, these stories show that individuals came upon a book by accident – they were not actively seeking out an important book. That book was recommended to them, given to them, or they just found it and started reading. Every person, however he or she came upon that find, said that once he or she began reading, the book totally captured attention – even those who were not strong readers. They spoke of identifying with characters and situations – cross-cultural, cross-gender, cross-racial, cross-generational. None of that seemed to matter. Something in each work captivated each reader and spurred that reader into thinking about life and issues in ways not previously considered.
In a nutshell, this is the power and beauty of art. Anyone can access it and can be profoundly affected by it. Some make art an important part of their lives regularly. Others come to art by accident and often unawares. Unfortunately, there also are some who never experience art’s transformative power and live their lives as Thoreau observed “in quiet desperation.”
Pick up a book, look at a painting, listen to music, or perform your own artistic expression in whatever way seems right. Art is all around us from centuries past to the latest online post. It’s there for the experiencing.
Posted on 9/5/2018 6:31:11 PM
By Donald Fox
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Hurricane Harvey is still in the news along the Gulf Coast as it is just over one year ago that the storm hit the Houston area. We had some damage, some water in the house, but nothing like the pervasive flooding many throughout the region suffered. Even so, it has taken this year to gradually recover, and we, like many others, are not yet fully back to pre-storm status. The reconstruction of my studio is complete, a new drainage system is in place around the house, and gutters have been installed. We still have some bare floors, and there are boxes stacked all around the house. I have, though, begun cleaning inside the studio and gradually am moving things back in being careful not to overdo and destroy the good space that has opened up. I no longer have skylights, which though they gave incredible light from the north side, they were prone to leakage and could not handle all the water from the hurricane. Instead, I installed clerestory windows on the east and west walls plus put in LED ceiling lights matched to daylight temperature.
This past weekend and Labor Day I finally created the first painting in the new space. That felt quite celebratory and a major accomplishment after so many months of only making drawings and small scale works. The recent disastrous museum fire in Brazil also reminded me of how lucky I am to be able to have a working space and the ability to create, as any artist, in the face of uncertainty but with a sense of promise. Many have suggested that the artistic creative act is one of faith and trust if not courage and determination. There is a sense of fulfillment in doing even if the work is never seen or shared. Emily Dickinson comes to mind – all her boxes of unpublished poems that only came to light after she was gone.
Two polar ideas arise here: one is work that remains unknown, perhaps to be discovered in the distant future like those ancient cave paintings, or possibly never at all; and, secondly, work that is known but for whatever reason is lost to future generations like the paintings of the ancient Greek artist Zeuxis or all the works destroyed during wars or natural disasters. We know about Zeuxis from ancient writing, but his paintings have not survived. We know of works lost or deliberately destroyed by conquerors, fanatics, or the so-called acts of God. What all these have in common is the belief on the part of the artist that he or she was creating something that would outlast the mortal span and that would leave some record, some statement of the creator who lived and expressed that life in aesthetic form. It doesn’t take being an artist, of course, to live one’s life with purpose and passion. Anyone can act on the belief that life matters. It is choice that makes this true or not, and the best art most often affirms both choice and meaning.
