Monday, July 26, 2004
And this I wrote last summer when I was focused on reading Faulkner. Probably shortly after I read a collection of his work called A Portable Faulkner.
Faulkner is able to move me with his words. I could just as easily cry as guffaw at the words on the page. I, on the other hand, am completely unable to describe the beauty of nature, life, and emotions. Will I ever be a writer? I am not bereft of emotion but I am wholly unable to impart my emotions to someone else. Literature and Art in many forms move me to speechlessness, but that only makes it harder to give that beauty a voice. The more breathtaking the emotion, the less apt I am to describe that feeling, or sight, or whatever.
And recently in Vegas, While staring out at the lights of the Strip;
I realize that no picture could ever capture this sight. I can see such a variety of colors and they look all the more vivid in the semi-dark that exists at 8:13 pm in late May. But no picture I've ever seen can re-create the moment. The picture could show you the facts of what I saw, but nothing else. So I must use words and phrases to describe it to others. Even then, of course, it will be a poor reflection of the original, but still better than a 4x6 glossy of the moment. Perhaps one could tap into my brain and relive it through my eyes. That would probably give them most of the essence.
But then, they would have different experiences to interpret it and it would not touch them in the same way. Sometimes art seems so utterly pointless to share, maybe art is best left with the creator. The human who can appreciate it most.
Faulkner is able to move me with his words. I could just as easily cry as guffaw at the words on the page. I, on the other hand, am completely unable to describe the beauty of nature, life, and emotions. Will I ever be a writer? I am not bereft of emotion but I am wholly unable to impart my emotions to someone else. Literature and Art in many forms move me to speechlessness, but that only makes it harder to give that beauty a voice. The more breathtaking the emotion, the less apt I am to describe that feeling, or sight, or whatever.
And recently in Vegas, While staring out at the lights of the Strip;
I realize that no picture could ever capture this sight. I can see such a variety of colors and they look all the more vivid in the semi-dark that exists at 8:13 pm in late May. But no picture I've ever seen can re-create the moment. The picture could show you the facts of what I saw, but nothing else. So I must use words and phrases to describe it to others. Even then, of course, it will be a poor reflection of the original, but still better than a 4x6 glossy of the moment. Perhaps one could tap into my brain and relive it through my eyes. That would probably give them most of the essence.
But then, they would have different experiences to interpret it and it would not touch them in the same way. Sometimes art seems so utterly pointless to share, maybe art is best left with the creator. The human who can appreciate it most.
