"We Have No Art . . ."

 When a friend on Facebook nominated me for an art challenge, my first response was that I'm no artist. And I remembered a Balinese saying I once read: "We have no art; we do everything the best we can." 

I've always loved that thought and would love to see more folks doing the best they can rather than leaving all the fun to the "real artists." So I post my amateurish* efforts on my blog and on Facebook, hoping others will find joy in creating--whether it be painting, photography, clay, woodworking, fiber arts, or any of a number of creative endeavors.

The challenge was to post a piece each day for ten days and on each day to nominate another to share their work. I nominated two--then quickly realized how very many FB friends I had whose work is worth looking at. Many already share their work. Several work in more than one medium. Some are professional artists, others are amateurs.* And I've undoubtedly inadvertently left some out. But here's the list:

Shawn Miles Bilodeau -- photo manipulation

Jill Harman Smith-- painting, sculpture

Katy Gilmore -- watercolor

Pepper Cory- quilting

Andree Freeman -- photography

Merisi - photography

Yolanda Fundadora-- graphic art

Suzanne DesLauriers-- watercolor and more

Barbara Weitbrecht-- AI manipulation

Jennifer Woodruff --quilting, dyeing, 

Mary Maupin--painting, quilting

John Rayner-- photography

Jean Barden--alcohol ink and more

Barbara Rogers--pottery and sculpture

Rich Burnett Baker--narrative photography

Ida Twining--quilting

Sandra Parshall - photography 

*Amateur--the word amateur comes from the Latin for lover and originally meant one who does a thing for the love of it, rather than for pay. Nowadays it tends to mean one who does a thing clumsily (and without pay.) I am an amateur in all three senses. And that's okay--I'm doing the best I can--and loving it.

                                                    

                                                 

 

Chickens in the Grass. . . Alas . . .

Seeing the yard birds out wandering around yesterday made me think of  Gertrude Stein and her famous "Pigeons in the grass, alas.." 

Though what is 'alas' about birds in the grass, I don't  know -- pigeons (or chickens) on the porch, leaving pigeon (or chicken) poo all over, now that would be worth an alas or something stronger.

Stein was one of the literary figures of the 1920s -- known for her Paris salon where all the ex-pat writers gathered. (She was also an early patron and collector of Picasso, Braque, and Matisse.)

 I must admit that I've never been able to make my way through any of her writing except for The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas -- (which is not an autobiography though it is told through the voice of Toklas, Stein's life partner. )

 

I'm not alone in finding much of Gertrude S. unreadable, The following is from her obituary in the New York Times (July 1946.)

Although Gertrude Stein could and did write intelligibly at times, her distinction rested on her use of words apart from their conventional meaning. Her emphasis on sound rather than sense is illustrated by her oft-quoted "A rose is a rose is a rose." 

Devotees of her cult professed to find her restoring a pristine freshness and rhythm to language. Medical authorities compared her effusions to the rantings of the insane. The Hearst press inquired, "Is Gertrude Stein not Gertrude Stein but somebody else living and talking in the same body?" Sinclair Lewis concluded she was conducting a racket.

 Probably in every area of the arts, there are controversial figures  -- I'm thinking of the shark in formaldehyde guy, the composer who limits himself to one note, the performance artist who covers herself in chocolate -- and I'm wondering, Are they pushing the boundaries of art to reveal something new and illuminating? 

Or are they conducting a racket?

 Chickens in the grass, alas . . .