A debt of gratitude, from journalists
I didn’t realize that the person who’d protected Anne Frank — and, later, her personal journal — had lived so long.
Anne Frank was an icon to many of us, and a shining example of the importance of diaries. She helped a generation understand what had happened prior to and during World War II. Instead of it being “something that happened in another country,” there was a face and a life & dreams that we could identify with.
That was important.
From Levine Breaking News’ headlines:
ANNE FRANK PROTECTOR DIES AT 100: Miep Gies, who ensured the diary of Anne Frank did not fall into the hands of Nazis after the teen’s arrest, has died. She was 100. Gies was among a team of Dutch citizens who hid the Frank family of four and four others in a secret annex in Amsterdam, Netherlands, during World War II, according to her official Web site, which announced her death Monday. She worked as a secretary for Anne Frank’s father, Otto, in the front side of the same Prinsengracht building.
As a child, I was tremendously inspired by Anne Frank’s diary.
Many of us — and the journaling and historical communities, in general — owe Miep Gies a debt of gratitude. What she did was courageous and tremendously forward-thinking.
Additional info & photos: Mail Online newspaper article
Magpie logic
I’ve been completely redesigning my office/studio this week.
The room is a normal bedroom size, about 12′ x 12′, and it serves two important purposes: I write in this room, and I create art here.
Writing
The writing requires lots & lots of reference books within easy reach. I write on a variety of topics — mostly related to art, travel, history and/or paranormal themes — and I’m well-known for my exhaustive research using obscure (but fascinating) references.
Writers need to promote themselves and their books. So, I have stacks of PR materials, including a dozen different styles of business cards, each tailored to a particular audience. I need to access them easily when I get a call from an event or a reporter.
Art
My art is all over the place, sometimes literally.
I paint with oils and acrylics. My canvases can be 36″ x 48″ or larger, and as tiny as 3″ x 3″. It’s easy to lose the little canvases and difficult to store the huge ones. They end up in boxes, behind doors, in closets, under beds, etc.
I also create fabric art, especially dolls and wearable art, plus quilts. My paper arts require considerable space, including my basic collage supplies (lots & lots of magazines) and embellishments.
Then there are the one-off assemblages that occur to me at odd moments, which — completed or in gestation — take up space.
Placing all of my writing supplies and all of my art supplies in the center of my studio floor… well, it’s been exhilarating and enlightening.
Magpie syndrome
I often think of myself as a magpie, in a way.
Sometimes, I see things that spark a project idea.
More often, that project idea is how I explain to myself why I need to own whatever-it-is. It’s how I justify the acquisition.
This is important: If I stay locked into that project idea and don’t explore other options, that collected object becomes clutter. Two years later, I have only the vaguest memory of the painting, collage, shrine or doll that I intended to make. The energy is lost, at least partly in regret.
Don’t let the guilt obliterate the energy of the object, or how it resonates — no matter how quietly — with your creative impulses.
That’s what I’m learning as I open boxes and rediscover half-finished projects and objects that never realized their greatness in completed art.
At least half a dozen paintings were in limbo, waiting for the technique I’m currently developing in my work. (The photo at right is an example. It’s barely started, but I love the glow of the houses facing the sunlight.)
Until I hauled those paintings out of the closet last night, I had no idea those paintings were such wonderful starts. With a fresh eye, I can see what works — and what doesn’t — and the energy is surging off the canvas as I admire it.
(I thought they were just bad paintings that I’d paint over, eventually. But, every time I looked at them, I wanted to cry because I could see the sparks of brilliance in them. I couldn’t bear to paint over them, and now I’m glad that I didn’t.)
Yarn intended as doll hair now sings to me as embellishment wall hanging.
Books that I purchased are falling open to illustrations and phrases that almost glow with inspiration.
This is a very cool experience.
Though I realize this can be an excuse to accumulate clutter, I think it’s vital to avoid the extremes of collecting or purging, compulsively.
I’m also mindful that — from a bigger perspective — if you’re supposed to create a particular work of art, the supplies will probably show up, almost on their own.
However, as I sit here surrounded by art supplies, books and projects, I’m astonished at how precisely my “magpie collection” is fitting into place. It’s as if I always knew that this day would happen.
It’s a concept worth considering.
My paintings: Three Trees (Bush Park, Houston, TX)
York Harbor View (York Harbor, ME) – in progress
Photo credit: Magpie – Juha Soininen, Finland
Art as emotional education
This morning, I read an interesting quote from David Brooks, “While our scholastic education is formal and supervised, our emotional education, the one we glean on our own from artists and musicians, is more important to our long-term happiness.”
I had never thought about art (and music, which I include in “the arts”) as emotional education. It’s an appropriate concept, and especially important and vital in an era when values are shifting away from merit-as-price-tag and status-based evaluation.
It’s also important as we consider even more budget cuts in our schools, and how we can resolve deficit-related issues that are (or will be) affecting our daily lives… such as what our children are taught in school.
Unless we ensure that art remains in people’s educations — particularly future generations’ — they may lose sight of the importance of the arts.
That’s already happened, and it’s one reason why so many artists struggle to survive as full-time artists.
We’ve fallen far from the time when influential families (such as the Medicis) made certain that their communities had access to the very best art possible.
Then again, a quick glance at the actual art incorporated in architecture confirms that this has been a growing issue for centuries. When we have to mandate 1% for art, and similar programs, and compare that with the amount of visible, permanent art in the buildings we revere from the past… well, the contrast is startling.
Whether we’re talking about the pyramids, cathedrals, or caves in France, the conversations almost always return to the art that’s part of them. In structures such as the pyramids and cathedrals, that art was permanent. It wasn’t entirely art — such as paintings and free-standing sculptures — displayed there, it was an integral part of the structure.
That’s an appropriate analogy for what’s happened to art in our society, and our values.
What will people spend money on, as an innate, knee-jerk reaction? A quick survey of the “impulse items” at the grocery store check-out line reveals what appeals to us as a society: Candy, and publications featuring unhappy gossip.
In most households, “original art” is grade-school work temporarily housed on the front of the refrigerator.
Commercial reproductions of art (paintings and photos) aren’t the same as original art, but they’re better than nothing.
I’m not sure what it will take to restore original art — in general — as a valuable part of our everyday lives.
Yes, one can argue that some art sells for astronomically high prices, particularly at auction. However, that art is generally purchased by people whose educations — at the finest schools money can buy — as well as their home environments, taught them the value of art.
In today’s economy, when we propose additional art education in our schools, the retort is, “Yes, but who’s going to pay for it?”
My flippant response might be: The arts need a bailout (or a resurgence) more than companies realizing the logical consequences of mismanagement.
In fact, we don’t just need a resurgence of the arts… they may be vital to our future survival.
When we look at world and local headlines, the emotional toll of violence is clear. The logical (and very emotional) response to violence is, “How could anyone do that…?”
Perhaps some of those acts of violence are committed as carelessly as some people — oblivious to the love and care of a gardener — trample plants and flowers to create a “shortcut” to where they’re going.
It gets back to education. It’s not just telling people that art is valuable, it’s showing them its emotional value. And, it goes beyond a one-hour-a-week class. This kind of appreciation for art must begin in the home.
However, I’m also mindful of what’s practical. This won’t be achieved overnight, and probably not in one generation.
We have to start somewhere.
In an economy defaulting to one-income households — which were the norm when I was growing up — perhaps we can take the time to volunteer as artists in the schools.
I’m aware that this sets a dangerous precedent, and school administrators may then expect art and art instruction to be provided, free of charge.
I’d counter that argument with the popularity of concerts. Because we are exposed to popular music daily on radio and TV — free of charge — people continue to place a high value on concerts.
My point is: To recover the perceived value of art, particularly the visual arts, we have to begin somewhere. We need to educate people — starting with children — about the importance of art, not just as art but as Brooks’ said, “emotional education.”
It may take a generation or two to even begin this project. However, it’s a vital project not just for artists but for our society.
You could volunteer at
- a Scout troop,
- a community center,
- a daycare center,
- a church, or
- a school.
It could be a weekly or monthly commitment — for as long as you’re able to — or a one-time event.
Whether you teach others to create art or about the arts, or take a child (your own or neighbors’) to an art gallery or museum, or read a book about art with your book club or your family, start now.
It’s not just about art, it’s about emotional education.
“Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.” — Teddy Roosevelt.
Photo credits:
Vatican columns – Sorina Bindea, Romania
Petroglyphs in Venezuela – Franklin Carrera, Venezuela
Street artist – Valentina Jori, Italy
Newgrange carvings – Jon Sullivan, US (PDPhoto.org)
You can reprint this article (and its illustrations) on your own website if you like, as long as the article remains intact and has a link back to Aisling.net.
Collage artists journals… again
Lately, I’ve been looking at the ridiculous stack of magazines in my studio, and the bag of magazines in the trunk of my car… issues that I know I should take to Goodwill or something, but just can’t seem to do it.
I think I’m going to try daily collage journals again.
I may try it and decide that my collaging-in-journals phase is best left in the past. I’m not sure.
But, I think I’m going to try it again, just to see what happens.
Update 28 Nov 09: October was wildly busy, and the start of November was catch-up time. Now, I’ve gathered all of my magazines and I have a new journal and journaling supplies ready.
So, now it’s a matter of getting started. It still feels courageous to do that, even after all these years.
Art Day… a little late
It’s been a very busy summer. I wrote two new (non-art) books under a pen name. (I keep that writing separate from my art. And no, it’s not porn. It’s just… different.)
However, I’m hoping to write and publish at least two art-related books in 2010.
In general, I’m shifting gears a bit. During 2010, I’ll be focusing on tangible products such as books and my own art, more than writing for websites. So, there may be a lot more show and less tell here. (Well, a picture is worth a thousand words, right?)
I’m feeling very optimistic about this. You know that feeling, when you know you’re doing something very right…? Well, I’m there. After a few years of trying various directions, I’ve found a work niche in which I’m completely comfortable. Using that as my focal point, everything else fits into place around it. This is good!
Meanwhile as I’m surveying this summer (where’d it go…?), I realized that I’d been so busy, I completely missed Art Day (August 14th).
So — belatedly — happy Art Day!
Looking ahead, September 19th is the next SketchCrawl Day. I’m planning to be in Salem (Massachusetts) that day, drawing and painting.
This time, I’m not organizing anything formal. However, if you see me around the downtown, be sure to say hello! Or, leave a comment here if you’d like to meet me for an early lunch at Brothers’ Deli, about two blocks from Pickering Wharf.
