Quiet Playing
Crystal R Raymond
I got my keyboard set up last night. I think the attendees this past
weekend would have seen me much more together and less ditzy. I get that
way when I don't play; I fall apart.
I realized last night that I hadn't played in about two weeks. Long
overdue.
This morning, while I was sitting there tapping out "Yes, Anastasia" by
Tori, I let the quiet part of my brain out. That's the little part that
doesn't get much airtime; I don't trust It much. It stays silent, and I
get a paranoid feeling sometimes like It's another being inside of me,
simply letting me carry It and nourish It and keep It warm, only choosing
to take control of me when It hears music, when It wakes up.
When It's asleep, It's not intimidating at all.
It likes the passion that flows down over my head and out through my
fingers, so I usually only let It out when I play. But when I play, It
grows. It takes over completely.
I sat quietly for only about three seconds, lifted my hands and felt the
cool keys as I smoothed my hand gently down the board, and then I hit a
note. I felt a tremble. It was awake. It wasn't going to let me off
easily. This small, quiet, silent part of me stood up slowly, extended
Its arms and placed Its hands over the mouth of the rest of me. Once the
normal everyday part of me was quieted and walking out of the door, the
silent part began to open Its mouth, sucking in a huge amount of air,
almost like It was trying to suck past events and smells and future hopes
and any fear in through the air to help It grow. And grow It did. It
unfolded and expanded and increased and grew until It was the only thing
there.
I began to play.
And then It spoke. All of the air It had inhaled, all of the everything
It brought into Its lungs came out in a rush of emotion, cascading out of
my head and down my shoulders and arms and over my hands and into the
keys and through the wires and out of the speakers and back through the
air and into my ears where it boiled and bubbled over Its feet while It
kept speaking through me. After a while, Its face contorted and while
all of this life was pouring out of Its mouth, tears began pouring out of
Its eyes. That's when my music changed. That's when my music always
changes. When this once-quiet part begins to speak to me, I play, but
the music is usually gentle, soft and flowing, almost like a stretch and
yawn after such a long nap.
But when the tears happen... Everything in me hurts, everything in me is
angry, everything in me turns red with large black patches that don't
bounce back any light because there is nothing there even though you can
touch and feel something like velvet under your fingers...
When the tears happen, I don't exist any more. I'm a vehicle, an agent,
a broadcast transmitter. The real message is in me, in the crying,
speaking creature that is exhaling life all over me, and the only sounds
It makes when It speaks are the sounds that my fingers bring through the
keys of a piano.
My skin began to hurt as I played. My eyes were closed but I could see
everything. I could hear echoes all around me, but I was also part of an
echo. There was sound, piano sound, all through me but the only thing I
could really hear was crying.
And then nothing. My hands were in my lap, folded. I sat and breathed.
I sat with my eyes closed and concentrated on the flare of my nostrils as
I took deep inhalations. I looked for It. It wasn't crying anymore. It
was folding itself back up, the extra air was being pushed out of It, It
was shrinking.
And now look at it. Serene, small and composed, waiting to be fed,
wanting to go back to sleep. Watching the rest of me as I filter back
in, dazed. Watching the morning light as it streaks across the wall and
floor, thinking to Itself as It finally closes Its eyes that there really
is nothing like the coolness of a piano key.
--CRR
this is the part of
me I wanted to show
you all when you were
here
rper...@shell.portal.com
understand. i think you might know what i mean if i talk about losing
my music. about not being able to play. about not being able to talk
about it because all the words make it seem so trite. no one can
understand because i can't explain it well enough.
i used to play the string bass (and all the other orchestral string
instruments, but the string bass was my first, and my favorite.)
i started to play in the 5th grade. they let me because i was a good
student. they told me i could play either the string bass or the
tuba, because i was tall. it was an obvious choice; i couldn't get
enough air into my scarred lungs to play the tuba. and besides,
the bass was a much more lady-like instrument.
so, i started. interestingly enough, the music teacher at the summer
school was a string bass player. pretty soon, he offered me private
lessons for free. in couple of months, he entered me in a local
youth orchestra solo competition. the judges had never seen
a string bass played as a solo instrument. i won the competition.
i practiced 4 hours a day to get ready. i was 12 years old.
i continued to take private lessons, auditioned for a youth orchestra
(the metropolitan youth symphony) and got principal. i like
orchestral music, especially the huge bombastic stuff. i was frustrated
by the quality of the other musicians; obviously they didn't care
enough. i got into jr high, practiced 5-6 hours a day, won some solo
competitions, went to music camp, got obsessed with classical music.
in high school, i won thousands of dollars in various music competitions,
learned music theory, began writing silly little orchestral pieces.
i learned how to play the viola so that i could be in another orchestra,
i learned how to play the 'cello in 2 weeks so that i could audition to
be in a master class that yo yo ma was teaching at arizona state university.
i got in. yo yo ma told me he could tell i hadn't been playing the
'cello long, but that i had the right things inside me.
i began subbing for the phx symphony, against union rules. i started
to get pains in my left hand and arm. during a tempe symphony rehearsal of
the mozart requiem, i got a sudden sharp pain during the dies irae.
i asked the director if i could take a break, he said no. at break time,
i used a cold can of pepsi to soothe my arm.
i started to take a lot of ibuprofen, went to the doctor. he said
i had tendonitis, that i should take an extended break, and wear
a brace. i wore the brace, but i was practicing 8 hours a day by
then. i couldn't stop. i didn't need to talk to anyone, i just went
to my room and got it all sorted out in my head. i could almost
taste it when a note wasn't quite right. the pain was just an
extra part of the whole experience. and if i played long enough,
i could get clear of the fog that the pain killers wrapped me in.
i attended summer music school with a bunch of college students in
north carolina. i auditioned by audio tape, and they didn't ask me
how old i was. i do't even remember what i sent them; i called my
accompanist and asked her to meet me at the church (that's where
i made my recordings) and i was so doped up on painkillers that
i tuned up, played through once, rewound the tape, and mailed it
off. i just wanted to meet some people who felt the way i did.
i passed out while i was at the summer school. the doctor put me on
steroid pills. the kind you take seven, then six, then five, all the way
down to one, and start over. i played so much i was so happy i
didn't believe i could bear to go home, to go back to school and
not be able to taste that feeling the whole time i was awake.
i suffered from sleep deprivation. i practiced all night almost
every night.
when i came home, i couldn't eat properly. i drank water for almost
a whole week, i think i was trying to not let the real world get back
into me. i don't really know.
the next year, i auditioned for the world youth symphony. i won that
right by winning the phoenix symphony's concerto competition.
i placed principal, we went on tour. it was amazing. leonard bernstein
kissed me on the cheek. seiji ozawa told me i was gifted. ben
zander offered me conducting lessons when i told him about the
tendonitis. and it was all starting to come apart. i was taking
so many pills that i couldn't remember how the performance was, what piece
i needed to rehearse, where the concert hall was. i had a severe
drug interaction problem with the pain medication and my heart/lung
drugs. i remember my friend steve, the trombone player, driving
me like a bat out of hell to the hospital from the phx symphony
rehearsal; he thought i was going to die in his car.
i auditioned for the san francisco conservatory. they offered me
a scholarship. by this time, i was taking private lessons from
the prof at arizona state, dr. s. he told them i was going to burn
out soon, that i was not going to make it. they revoked the scholarship.
that same week, i was rehearsing with the phoenix youth symphony,
nothing major, but i saw the tendon snap out the skin on my left
hand and arm, and slither up toward my elbow. i almost dropped
my instrument. but i gently laid it down and ran out into the
linoleum hallway, passed out and slithered into the wall at the end of
the hall.
now, i have some residual pain. i have tendonitis and carpal tunnel
that get aggravated by the fact that i pretty much type all the time.
people ask me a lot why i don't just play "for fun". "you know,
just mess around, whatever." i just can't explain. i still can't.
none of the words i know make it seem real enough. i am obsessive.
i can't just do it "for fun." the only way i used to know to
get my head clear and my life right i can't do anymore. i think
about it, and i just get cold and stiff. i hear a piece, see an
orchestra, i cry. i get angry that people i knew were not as deserving
as i have the right to play the pieces, feel the wave of
music and i can't. i had no other plans; i was going to play.
and it was the only thing i ever did for myself alone. i can't
think of anything else i do that isn't in some sense to make
someone else happy. it was the only thing i knew i was
brilliant at, and what made it so right was that i didn't care
if other people thought so.
i didn't listen to my classical records for a long time. i still cry,
almost all the time now that i do. i now live in a place where there
is a real, world-class symphony orchestra. i've been exactly
once (although i have tickets to see previn direct on the 25th),
and it was hard not to just break down right there in the 4th row.
so. so i don't think this explained it. i'm not using any made-up
words. perhaps i should, because the ones that i know exist don't
explain why i am empty of any real desire to do anything else. i
just get up, go to my (admittedly cool) job, and spend time with
the people i like. i'm sorry, though. you can't replace it. you can't
make up for it. i must distract myself.
i found a tape of my performace the time i won the phx symphony
concerto competition. i listened to it, this was just a couple of
months ago. i almost killed myself that night. it was so hard,
and i could hear the fuckups that only i could hear, and i felt
that itch, that need, that craving to go down to my room, and
go through it over and over until it was like liquid, like clear
and thick and exactly pure. and i can't. for one thing, i sold
my instruments to help pay for college. but i just can't anyway.
i would never get to where i want to be, to where i was headed before
i fucked myeslf by being obsessive. but i don't know if i would
ever have been what i was except for the obsession.
so i made myself listen to it again. and then i played some of it
for henry. (poor henry, he's been so kind and tolerant of what
must seem to him like psychotic ravings about my music, my loss,
my pain.) and then i put some of it on a mix tape. chemiker got a copy.
kathy got a copy. i'm trying to dissipate it somehow, by just putting
it in with other music, things i didn't play. i think i need to
act as though this all happened to somebody else. and that i like
it, but it's not any big deal. make it go away, and not see it
spinning above me as i lie in bed and know that it's just the right
shape to fit into the smooth-edged space in me.
you're so lucky crystal. i wish i could be there to cry with you.
because you know i would. thanks for helping me out with this.
rachel
--
rachel perkins = rper...@shell.portal.com
http://www.portal.com/~rperkins
"something bad's gonna happen..." - bill lee
Jason C Simon
:
: I got my keyboard set up last night. I think the attendees this past
: weekend would have seen me much more together and less ditzy. I get that
: way when I don't play; I fall apart.
:
: I realized last night that I hadn't played in about two weeks. Long
: overdue.
[dramatic description of musical release cut]
tell me about it. I miss having access to that feeling. My tiny one
room apartment is far too small for a piano and the keyboards just dont
cut it (even the fender rhodes).
The only chance I get to play is when I'm on campus and have time
to go down to the student union where there's a grand in the middle of the
lounge. Every time I feel as if I'm going to explode. However, this
being usually in the middle of a crowded lounge, may not be always
possible. (at least without practice... (what did I mean by that? I
dont know, I think I'm losing it...))
I need a piano... if only a crappy one..
JCS
--
"I am the Village Idiot I dont have anything to do with this pathetic
little opera I just felt like passing through...."
-The village idiot
Crystal R Raymond
[Rachel wrote something that made me cry. I've now taken the
conversation to email, but I do have this to say:]
To the six of you who wrote to me and asked "Who the fuck cares about
your music?" ... I now happily invite you to go fuck yourselves in the
eyesocket with whatever is red-hot and handy.
--CRR
and who the fuck
cares about what
it is
Richard (R.) Bown
: I need a piano... if only a crappy one..
well you can have mine. another bill landed on my door yesterday
for the storage of the thing. somewhere in a warehouse in my home
town sits a grand piano just waiting for the day when i get a place
big enough.
until then i have the privelage of paying forty quid a month for
not seeing it. my mum said it'd always come to me. it's turn of
the century, needs a lot of work on the action, some veneering.
i always remember it having these big wooden cups that sat under the
wheeled feet to stop it making indentations in the floor. it had
a key that always stuck. an arpeggio in a mozart sonata.
huge heavy keys, the ivory like teeth all chipped and scaled. the
dirt from my hands marking it. the ebony keys always looking smart.
the lid with the inlaid name. the marquetry on the music stand.
the fact it didn't stand up quite right. the smell under the lid
on those special occasions that it was open. the movement of the
hammers. the way i always nearly got my fingers trapped playing
with the hinge on the piano stool - crammed full of forties ballads
and popular workings of the classics. my two favourites the big
red beethoven and the slimmer green mozart.
jeez, a complete rush of memories.
rich.
mebbe i *won't* get rid of it afterall
Sofia Tolstoshev
(Jason C Simon) wrote:
> Crystal R Raymond (crr...@pitt.edu) wrote:
> :
> : I got my keyboard set up last night. I think the attendees this past
> : weekend would have seen me much more together and less ditzy. I get that
> : way when I don't play; I fall apart.
> :
> : I realized last night that I hadn't played in about two weeks. Long
> : overdue.
>
> [dramatic description of musical release cut]
>
> tell me about it. I miss having access to that feeling.
>
> JCS
i wonder how many angsters are frustrated ex-musicians/ actual musicians
who don't have the time/energy to play as much as they want.
i know i am. my thing was violin playing-- got to a point at the end of
h.s. where i was practicing 8 hours a day, right before i was about to be
shipped off to julliard, and right before i burned out. my poor teacher
had a fit. it wasn't a physical thing, for me, just the realization that
if i kept it up i would go mad. going mad would have been alright, except
that i probably didn't have the talent to ever make a really great player,
coupled with the most awful stage-fright. one of the last recitals i ever
did, someone at the washington post reviewed me as having "virtuoso
potential", but i knew perfectly well that potential viruosos don't spend
6 hours before hand practically in hysterics. i've met really good
players, and they are all "players" in the sense that they can tolerate an
audience. if i could have even been sure i'd get taken in by a syphony
orchestra somewhere, i might have stayed playing. but, i couldn't face
the heartless life of being a second-rate bit player who kept herself from
starving by running around from job to job and teaching beginning
violinists for 6 hours a day.
when i stopped, i stopped completely. it hurt too much to see myself
struggling to maintain the level i required for myself-- if you aren't
practicing 2 hours of scales a day, you aren't going to cut it anymore.
my little brother started playing, and eventually my parents "donated" him
my violin, which i still miss. by that time i had played it for so many
hours, it felt like someone had stolen a body organ.
there's nothing like that discipline, though. when you are playing, and
doing it well, it is supremely satisfying. i imagine that it's probably
not unlike the feeling people get whenever they are totally dedicated to
an activity, but when you add the music-making component to it, it is
really unique. because playing is an emotional activity in the way things
like x-country running frinstance, aren't (at least so i think). there
aren't even words to explain it, which is probably why i am rambling like
this.
gave me some good memories though. although it's still awfully
bittersweet some days when i hear a really incredible violinist. it's
kind of ironic, i don't think i'll ever find something that affords me
such pleasure again, and it's not as if i have some alternate life-project
to replace it with.
sofi
who wishes she could've donated her arms to rachel...
Richard (R.) Bown
: it's turn of the century, needs a lot of work on the action, some veneering.
and the piano could probably do with some work as well.
rich
badumbadum
Tamara's Brother
stol...@cc.swarthmore.edu (Sofia Tolstoshev) writes:
>i wonder how many angsters are frustrated ex-musicians/ actual musicians
>who don't have the time/energy to play as much as they want.
superhero, artist, writer and lover. These were my dreams in chronological
order.
I've almost given up on all of them.
tony s. buchanan
Loopy
stol...@cc.swarthmore.edu (Sofia Tolstoshev) wrote:
> i wonder how many angsters are frustrated ex-musicians/ actual musicians
> who don't have the time/energy to play as much as they want.
frustrated artist here. I don't really know why i stopped. partly because
i never had studio space outside of class, i suppose. and partly because
what i really love doing is human figure, and it's tough to find models
and an appropriate setting (no davey, don't bother volunteering. i prefer
female models, and there are only a few that ever really worked well for
me).
i learned how to "see" in third grade. it was very sudden. I was already
one of the better artists in the class, in that i could render
recognizable objects as well any given eight-year-old. But that christmas
i got a drawing book. "Drawing for Girls" by Genevieve Vaughan-Jackson.
there wasn't anything extraordinary about it except that it suddenly made
me see. When the pupil is ready, the guru appears. Suddenly, all at once i
grasped perspective and proportion and the magical process that words
can't describe. I look at a three dimensional object and it's no longer an
object iwth a name and a purpose. it turns into two dimensional shapes
that i can see clearly and piece back together on my sheet of paper. I
completely shut down the part of my brain that *knows* what's in front of
me, and only see what *is* in front of me.
it's like a zen exercise. I draw a piece of crumpled paper, but i don't
think of the object, nor of my hand, or the pencil, or the paper i'm
drawing on. The crumpled paper and my eyes and my mind and the pencil and
the drawing pad are a single thing that emerges and grows like a seedling
bursting out of the earth. I'm aware of nothing around me, no sounds or
sensations or people. there are no words in my head, just a glorious
silence.
so i came back to school after christmas and suddenly i could draw flowers
that looked like flowers, people that looked like people. my mother still
has some of those drawings from 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade. all of a sudden i
drew like an adult would. there's a pair of dolphins leaping out of the
water; a soaring birch tree drawn from the perspective of someone looking
up the trunk; crows flying against a sunny sky. if you didn't see the
school art fair tags still affixed to the corner you'd never believe i did
any of these at age 8 or 9.
around the same time i began the long slide into the depression that would
last the next 18 years or so. drawing was my refuge, just as it was when i
was a tiny kid too shy to play cowboys and indians with the kids on the
block, and i'd stay in the kitchen and crank out abstract paintings while
my mother talked to me. Outside the world was harsh and loud and
threatening. I was desperately frustrated in school, and my parents and
teachers were ignoring me. I had no friends, no affection, no attention.
the other kids were actively attacking me. I was very unattractive and
hated the very thought of myself. i had nowhere to turn but in. and in
drawing there was peace and silence. i didn't hear the taunts replaying in
my mind. no one was pushing me down, holding me back. no one was forcing
me to stay in a school i hated because of the "moral education" i was
getting there. there was nothing to be afraid of. there was a place where
i did beautiful things instead of being conspicuously ugly. i could
stretch out my wings.
authority figures are funny. they'll ooh and ahh over your talents, but
woe to the "academically gifted" kid who accidentally mentions wanting to
do something nonacademic for a career. I remember writing an essay in 3rd
grade about my favorite subject in school, which was art. Mrs. Kelley, the
evil old lady english teacher, gave me an anonymous dressing down the next
day in class. She said that she was happy to see that some students had
chosen English or Social Studies as their favorite topic, because these
were the kids who were going to go to college and have a Good Career.
Those who had chosen Art and Music were clearly not serious about school
in any way, nor were they thinking about their future. I nearly started
crying right there, and resolved that Art would never be my main focus in
school.
so that's how it unrolled. All my art teachers tried to talk me into going
to art school, especially the last one in high school, but I just sniffed
and told them I already had plans to be a scientist. I never brought up
the topic with my parents but there's no question it would not have gone
down well. In my senior year of college, after drawing nothing for three
years, i finally took Drawing I & II. the profs nearly fell over
themselves at my work. they couldn't believe i hadn't been taking art
classes the whole time, and the second one chewed me out for it. the other
students would always come over to my easel during breaks to see what I
was doing, and discuss it with each other behind me. we always pinned our
assignments onto a wall and did a group critique of them. i remember one
incident in particular when i arrived late and was about to pin up my
conte crayon drawing of two nudes on gray paper. I looked over the other
drawings, and was suddenly embarassed, because i knew it was five times
better than the best one already up. after a long pause, I walked up in
front of everyone and quickly pinned it to the wall, turning my head so i
could walk away without looking people in the eye. but i could hear the
reaction and was very self-conscious.
there are certain things in art i do well, and many things i can't do at
all. i can't do commercial art or graphics or anything remotely useful. I
can do scientific illustration but it drives me nuts, with all the
precision and detail. I'm a lousy abstractionist and a worse cartoonist.
what i'm good at is drawing naturalistic renditions of people and
landscapes and certain animals (mostly birds). Nothing revolutionary or
earth shattering. but as my evil artist ex put it, i do it better than
anyone he's ever met. my work is contemplative and sensual, and it seems
to always have a center or a fulcrum. it works very well for still lifes
and nature drawings, and marvelously with nudes, especially if i find a
model that works well for me. in those drawing classes i had a favorite
model, and i did lots of great drawings of her. sitting in that studio
with cramped legs and an aching neck and charcoal all over my arms was
pure joy.
then i graduated from college and went to grad school. took a watercolor
class that i enjoyed but didn't get into as much as i'd hoped. no human
models, just landscapes and some scientific illustration. other than that
i essentially never picked up charcoal or a paintbrush again. I was in
grad school now. can't do that silly stuff. this is serious work here.
i could pick it up again any time i wanted, but i keep feeling guilty. it
takes a lot of time and energy. i trance out for hours when i'm working on
a painting or drawing. every time i want to do it i get overwhelmed by
feelings that there are more important things i really should be doing. i
can't do it professionally at this point. for one thing I need some more
serious training; for another thing, the work i do is, like my academic
interests, the most useless stuff imaginable. very very difficult to break
into fine arts. so maybe if i'm a good girl and i do it as a hobby
(alongside my Real Career and raising my hypothetical family), maybe i'll
get over all my regrets. or maybe not.
--
the not-so-NEW Lucie Melahn
lm...@cornell.edu
Richard (R.) Bown
: i learned how to "see" in third grade. it was very sudden.
mysticism and mumbo-jumbo.
just another ivory tower erected by the art community to feebly
protect their profession. there is no magic to art, just bluster.
you paint/draw/model what you see to the best of your abilities.
trying to teach yourself this identified missing "perception" is
akin to trying to grow new limbs, redundant and nigh on impossible(*).
it's not the way you think about something that counts - it's the
way you SEE it and i draw that distinction. it's an emotional not
a calculated response you should be presenting.
the only use for perception and education in art is to make it
a viable business opportunity.
rich.
* - and on this point i am willing to defer to your superior
knowledge of biological history.
Loopy
Bown) wrote:
> Loopy (lm...@cornell.edu) wrote:
>
> : i learned how to "see" in third grade. it was very sudden.
> mysticism and mumbo-jumbo.
> just another ivory tower erected by the art community to feebly
> protect their profession. there is no magic to art, just bluster.
fuck off. you clearly don't know what you're talking about. i never
claimed to have discovered a sixth sense. I just accidentally discovered
the trick. it's akin to learning how to view "magic eye" pictures.
> it's not the way you think about something that counts - it's the
> way you SEE it and i draw that distinction. it's an emotional not
> a calculated response you should be presenting.
the way you "see" may or may not be emotional. I never claimed to be
presenting anything calculated. and, as in all forms of expression, some
people present a more technically strong execution while others pour
emotion into it. both approaches are artistically valid. you are
completely confused.
> the only use for perception and education in art is to make it
> a viable business opportunity.
well, now you're just trying to piss me off.
LooseyFurr
}Not me. I am a frustrated...superhero
Oh but Tony Bee, you're still my hero and I think you're super!
*blink blink*
TheDavid(TM)
Richard (R.) Bown
: fuck off. you clearly don't know what you're talking about. i never
: claimed to have discovered a sixth sense. I just accidentally discovered
: the trick. it's akin to learning how to view "magic eye" pictures.
there is no trick. you're clearly mad. use your MASSIVE i.q. for a
change, eh?
: > it's not the way you think about something that counts - it's the
: > way you SEE it and i draw that distinction. it's an emotional not
: > a calculated response you should be presenting.
: the way you "see" may or may not be emotional. I never claimed to be
: presenting anything calculated. and, as in all forms of expression, some
: people present a more technically strong execution while others pour
: emotion into it. both approaches are artistically valid. you are
: completely confused.
execution has nothing to do with it.
it's interpretation, darling. "artistically valid" is a gem.
can i keep it?
: > the only use for perception and education in art is to make it
: > a viable business opportunity.
: well, now you're just trying to piss me off.
heh. get off the art trip and think about it for a moment.
art is the ultimate sucker punch. andy warhol had the right idea
in milking saps like you for every penny they had.
rich.
Tamara's Brother
lm...@cornell.edu (Loopy) writes:
>i learned how to "see" in third grade. it was very sudden. I was already
>one of the better artists in the class, in that i could render
>recognizable objects as well any given eight-year-old. But that christmas
>i got a drawing book. "Drawing for Girls" by Genevieve Vaughan-Jackson.
>there wasn't anything extraordinary about it except that it suddenly made
>me see. When the pupil is ready, the guru appears. Suddenly, all at once i
>grasped perspective and proportion and the magical process that words
>can't describe. I look at a three dimensional object and it's no longer an
>object iwth a name and a purpose. it turns into two dimensional shapes
>that i can see clearly and piece back together on my sheet of paper. I
>completely shut down the part of my brain that *knows* what's in front of
>me, and only see what *is* in front of me.
>it's like a zen exercise. I draw a piece of crumpled paper, but i don't
>think of the object, nor of my hand, or the pencil, or the paper i'm
>drawing on. The crumpled paper and my eyes and my mind and the pencil and
>the drawing pad are a single thing that emerges and grows like a seedling
>bursting out of the earth. I'm aware of nothing around me, no sounds or
>sensations or people. there are no words in my head, just a glorious
>silence.
comes up and asks me "what is it"? I used to get pissed off but now I just
shrug and if possible I return to my flow. Usually, the silent treatment will
shake off all but the most hopeless, clueless folk.
I don't draw to be realistic, though. I can "see" just as well as anyone else
but I don't live in the real world. It is practically impossible for me to sit
down and do naturalistic art, though I have done some okay technical (drafting)
type drawing.
I draw to get something out. Usually, it is quick, ugly, and something nobody
watching me can see coming. When it is over with, I usually leave my art
for others to find. I don't want it very often anymore.
tony s. buchanan
Chemiker
>In article <4l11lm$i...@nic.umass.edu>, jaso...@asimov.oit.umass.edu
>i wonder how many angsters are frustrated ex-musicians/ actual musicians
>who don't have the time/energy to play as much as they want.
Warning: this post consists of 100% AngstLite <tm>. While only having
half the fat of normal angst, it, for unknown reasons (like decaffeinated
coffee or sugar-free tonic water), costs the same.
--
At 17 I had the chef's touch and a mean desire to go to Europe to learn
how to properly stuff peppers and singe meringue. But then I got a
waiting job at the KCC (Kenosha Country Club...an oxymoron.) and reality
pooped on my cafeteria tray. Chefs work while others party. The pay
sucks unless you're the one-in-4e14 who is charismatic, well-spoken, and
lucky enough to get a TV spot. They're open to scorn from two fronts:
the owners, who think cooking is some kind of engineering feat, and the
diners, who've developed tastes so subjective that olfactory ESP is
required to satify them. ("Miss, I asked for 'medium-rare', but it looks
like Chez Vache just cut the rope on this thing.")
And they fall victim to burns, cuts, callouses, dermatitis, and carpal
tunnel syndrome. I gave up on the kitchen and and became a Chem E.
--
Joe Kenny jke...@mailbox.slac.stanford.edu
...and besides, white makes me look peaked.
Loopy
Bown) wrote:
> Loopy spake unto me, saying:
>
> : fuck off. you clearly don't know what you're talking about. i never
> : claimed to have discovered a sixth sense. I just accidentally discovered
> : the trick. it's akin to learning how to view "magic eye" pictures.
> there is no trick. you're clearly mad. use your MASSIVE i.q. for a
> change, eh?
you know bown, i must say i'm confused. My first post wasn't opinion, it
was narrative. You're questioning my narrative. You're like a blind guy
trying to tell me that there is no such thing as the color blue. there is
nothing i can possibly say to this ridiculous flame other than insist that
my experience is true. so be it.
King David
Loopy (lm...@cornell.edu) wrote to Richard (R.) Bown (rb...@bnr.ca):
: fuck off. [...] you're just trying to piss me off.
If so he succeeded.
TheDavid(TM)
King David
[Loopy and Bown are hurling insults and calling names.]
Hey! "Make love, not war!"
TheDavid(TM)
Gene Lee
(and i remember my thinking at the time very clearly) it was the only
subject where you had "perfect" answers. If you took a mathematical
problem, and solved it, it was solved, for good. Not so with humanities:
there was never a *right* answer; there were many wrong answers, but no
single solution, like in mathematics. And I liked that, had it all under
control, was able to put some order into things.
Since there wasn't any in my life, at all. I guess i'm replying as a
follow up because the above sentences were brought back to memory, from
elementary school, by reading about art. So I wasn't very interested in
art as an elementary school student. But I sat through art class. Then i
hated it, but *now* I wouldn't at all mind if art were a required class.
Too bad they don't make it part of the core: a required studio art class.
And they could just make it pass fail, so people wouldn't complain about
their grades.
I sometimes find time for my own art class. I work at a headstart center
twice a week, four hours total. Though i'm most often engaged working
with a child there, sometimes I find myself unoccupied for a few minutes,
and i end up drawing. I prefer crayons to markers. [N.B. Headstart is a
federally funded pre-school program for disadvantaged children (i.e.
children whose parents are living very near, or below the poverty line]
Sometimes we'll have drawing or painting as an activity, and then it's
really fun.
One of the other students who works there looked at one of my drawings
and commented, she wouldn't guess it was drawn by someone my age. She
would not expect it, abstract as it was, to have been drawn by someone my
age. Rather, she expected that a younger child (~6) would have drawn it.
I've turned 180 degrees, and have forsworn math and science, and am
studying lit here at college. Side note on abstraction: i was in NY and
saw the Guggenheim abstraction exhibit. The whole time i couldn't shake
the question I had "Abstraction of *what*, exactly?" The text
accompanying the exhibit was woefully vague, simply referring to the
necessities of the viewer "plumbing one's inner emotional depths" (quotes
shouldn't be there, but something along those lines). Anyways, i've been
meaning to get an art history book from the library on that, and read a
little, but just haven't made the time yet.
I guess I take refuge in drawing, but not because I'm particularly good
at it. Just because it's something to do that's a novelty, and that keeps
my mind off of myself. I'm a horrible egoist (*not* egotist; whether i'm
an egotist or not i can't say, but i wrote *egoist* just now) and enjoy
not thinking about myself. Good thing about my ambition, that I can
concentrate on something that isn't myself (though I'm doing it for me),
and work towards it. Only problem is, when I get it, i realize it doesnt
really mean anything to me. That "really" shouldn't be there. What i mean
is, it doesnt' mean anything to me, at all.
that "no friends, no affection, no attention" is how i feel. I know it's
not entirely true, but it sure as hell feels like it. Yes, i know that's
what this place is all about. Of course, it seldoms gets mentioned.
I suppose I did math growing up, since it was what I initially attached
to--because I craved the precision and order, I think; maybe simply
because I was good at it. And my family supported my doing math, so I did
math. Thank God (no, not really, but the expression somehow falls into my
speech a lot more then i'd expect) my sibs are pre-med. Besides, my
parents somehow think that I'll be okay, career-wise and all that. I
can't help but laugh at the irony: that they have this rosy picture of my
life, because my intellect will, they think, get me through life
financially okay. They're absolutely right. What they don't realize is
that because of this intellect I am also miserable, pathetic and horribly
off most of the time. And flame away if you think intellect has nothing
to do with it.
So now I'm studying lit. I wonder sometimes if my tutorial section leader
wonders at the incredibly gloomy tinge every single one of my papers has.
Even the one on von Kleist, which i didn't enjoy very much and
subsequently couldn't get much out off, had the tinge of human beings
throwing wrenches into the works of "justice" that nature, or something,
happened to be upholding on earth.
So instead of finding precise answers in math, I'm finding *my* own
subjective answers to the books i read. And each and every one of them
doesn't escape the cloud of gloom that perpetually hangs over my head--
or is waiting in the wings to crash down with especial vengance after one
of my few respites. and the extra misery is, i think, also due to my
deluding myself, foolishly, into thinking i might someday be capable of
*change*; changing out of this miserable wretched pathetic state i'm in
right now, and always.
?Gene
Loopy (lm...@cornell.edu) wrote:
: frustrated artist here. I don't really know why i stopped. partly because
[...]
: drawing was my refuge, just as it was when i
Loopy
Lee) wrote:
> I've turned 180 degrees, and have forsworn math and science, and am
> studying lit here at college. Side note on abstraction: i was in NY and
> saw the Guggenheim abstraction exhibit. The whole time i couldn't shake
> the question I had "Abstraction of *what*, exactly?" The text
> accompanying the exhibit was woefully vague, simply referring to the
> necessities of the viewer "plumbing one's inner emotional depths" (quotes
> shouldn't be there, but something along those lines). Anyways, i've been
> meaning to get an art history book from the library on that, and read a
> little, but just haven't made the time yet.
heh... you may as well ask, while listening to Miles Davis, "but what is
it *about*"? abstraction isn't necessarily an abstraction *of* anything;
in fact that was what the movement was about during the twentieth century.
the abstractionists systematically worked to remove all possible
limitations from their drawings. so they got rid of perspective,
narrative, any sort of representation. as the movement progressed, they
tried to make paintings that were as literal as possible, paintings that
didn't depict any three-dimensional space that wasn't on the canvas. art
for art's sake. the movement became highly theoretical, and it got so that
you couldn't enjoy a show unless you were privy to the theoretical debates
that went along with it. I personally prefer abstract art that works on
the theoretical level, as well as an immediate level. It should stand on
its own. Rothko, IMO, is a perfect example.
There was an excellent review of the Guggenheim exhibit in the March 25
issue of the New Yorker. It's one of the best things i've ever read on
abstract art -- gives a short history of the movement, and discusses why
so much contemporary abstract art is so _boring_.
Jennifer Faucher
> I never was interested in art very much growing up. I liked math, because
> (and i remember my thinking at the time very clearly) it was the only
> subject where you had "perfect" answers. If you took a mathematical
> problem, and solved it, it was solved, for good. Not so with humanities:
> there was never a *right* answer; there were many wrong answers, but no
> single solution, like in mathematics. And I liked that, had it all under
> control, was able to put some order into things.
[...]
> I've turned 180 degrees, and have forsworn math and science, and am
> studying lit here at college.
"Dr. Whitehead, at this stage, persuaded me to abandon points of space,
instants of time, and particles of matter, substituting for them
logical constructions composed of events." --God
St-Jennifer-of-the-Knife
Richard (R.) Bown
: you know bown, i must say i'm confused. My first post wasn't opinion, it
: was narrative. You're questioning my narrative. You're like a blind guy
: trying to tell me that there is no such thing as the color blue. there is
: nothing i can possibly say to this ridiculous flame other than insist that
: my experience is true. so be it.
see here, your experience is valid. i'm not questioning your
honesty except that to yourself.
does this "artistic vision" make any difference to perception or
creation of art? damn right it does. but by the same token does
this mean that you've got to see a painting in the spirit it was
painted to truly appreciate it?
no. it's just the art community that'll bang on about these loaded
terms to impress, to confuse and disorient. my beef is that this
tainted idea, this myth has found its way into this medium of ideas.
ain't no big thang. and yes i'm annoyed that i've got annoyed by
this seemingly petty preoccupation with *my* reality but . . . erm,
it takes all sorts.
rich.
and that's what i'm here for.
St-Jennifer-of-the-Knife
>"Dr. Whitehead, at this stage, persuaded me to abandon points of space,
>instants of time, and particles of matter, substituting for them
>logical constructions composed of events." --God
^^^
For the record, it's been years since I actually believed that Bertrand
Russell is God. Well, a year and a half. The logic went like this: God
is dead; Bertrand Russell is dead; therefore Bertrand Russell is God.
It's the kind of thing I think about when I have to work somebody
else's Saturday night shift. I ignore all the email I get: "I have a
date! Please work my shift!" But sometimes some desperately social
person begs Jean, the head of the department, to find a replacement
personally. And Jean always asks me. She's learned that I'll always work
a Saturday shift. "You're always so flexible, Jennifer." But I need the
money. I'm still almost $400 in debt.
St-Jennifer-of-the-Knife
Richard (R.) Bown
: Well, I interpreted Lucie's comment in a more specific sense, though
: maybe she intended more. I thought that by "seeing" she meant the
: ability to put aside three-dimensional interpretation and observe
: literally the play of light and color on one's visual field, which is,
: after all, two-dimensional. It's not something that most people would
: do unless they had the idea that they should be doing it. For
: purposes other than painting, it is far more useful to impose a
: spatial interpretation. On the other hand, there's nothing mysterious
: about it. I didn't get the impression that Lucie claimed to be able
: to judge artistic merit as a child just able to understand what must
: be done to transfer a view to a canvas.
like i said, i don't doubt her judgement, just her phrasiology.
: I could only do this after understanding the mathematics of
: perspective, and in effect pretending while viewing reality that I was
: actually viewing a superbly executed virtual reality, at which point
: it became natural to wonder which surfaces block which others, how the
: shadows correspond to the light sources, how receding lines suggest a
: vanishing point, etc. To begin to see the world like this one day as
: a child without knowing the theory ahead of time would certainly be a
: sea change in perception.
the ability to produce pleasant imagery is given a mythical aura.
the everyday person not wishing or wanting to try will ask the perceived
"artist" to perform for them. "hey greg, you're artistic, where d'ya
think i should hang this?" if the "artist" has any sense then they will
tell them to exactly where to hang it.
there is only a *perceived* difference between the artistic and the non.
use of proprietary terms such as Seeing[tm] goes only to further the
mystery and i wish i had time to explore this more fully HERE and NOW
but i have to show my nephew around the houses of parliament.
rich.
rushingrushingrushing
David Of Bedlam
On 24 Apr 1996, Richard (R.) Bown wrote:
[...]
> there is only a *perceived* difference between the artistic and the non.
I agree. Any art is a trade, basically, as is plumbing. (And plumbing
is far more important in modern cities.)
> use of proprietary terms such as Seeing[tm] goes only to further the
> mystery
. . .Of the over-elaborated bullshit of "Creativity." Or do you doubt
that's possible to be a lonely, eccentric, misunderstood and gifted
assembler of domestic waste-handling systems?
Most writers, sculptors and painters, like most plumbers, accountants
and carpenters, are just plain hacks. Any mythtical and non-practical
qualities pertaining thereunto or to the practitioners thereof are
therefore ipso facto illusionary and entirely incredible hogwash.
Yo he hablado.
TheDavid
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loopy lemon
Callahan) wrote:
> In article <4lead5$9...@bcrkh13.bnr.ca>,
> Richard (R.) Bown <rb...@bnr.co.uk> wrote:
> >does this "artistic vision" make any difference to perception or
> >creation of art? damn right it does. but by the same token does
> >this mean that you've got to see a painting in the spirit it was
> >painted to truly appreciate it?
> Well, I interpreted Lucie's comment in a more specific sense, though
> maybe she intended more. I thought that by "seeing" she meant the
> ability to put aside three-dimensional interpretation and observe
> literally the play of light and color on one's visual field, which is,
> after all, two-dimensional.
yes, thank you paul. that is all i ever meant. I never claimed to have
suddenly acquired any sort of wisdom or mystical vision. Bown didn't like
the word "seeing" for some reason. I don't know what else to call it.
that's all i ever heard it called in art class or in my art books. all it
means to me is "seeing literally."
as far as "judging artistic merit," man, cut me some slack. I love art and
i learn what I can when I can by going to art museums, reading books and
magazines, and discussion art with other people. Over the years i've been
learning about what I think is good art. I don't pretend to be an expert.
I've seen enough art that I've become a decent judge of skill and
technique.
> myself. I could only do this after understanding the mathematics of
> perspective, and in effect pretending while viewing reality that I was
> actually viewing a superbly executed virtual reality, at which point
> it became natural to wonder which surfaces block which others, how the
> shadows correspond to the light sources, how receding lines suggest a
> vanishing point, etc. To begin to see the world like this one day as
> a child without knowing the theory ahead of time would certainly be a
> sea change in perception.
yes, it was a major change in perception, and I'm very thankful I had the
luck to stumble upon it without intellectualizing what i was doing. all of
you who are jumping on me are making gross extrapolations based on a
simple description of a mental process, and how i used that mental process
to give me solace.
Lucie
Felicity Green
lm...@cornell.edu says...
>
,
>i learned how to "see" in third grade. it was very sudden.
I look at a three dimensional object and it's no longer an
>object iwth a name and a purpose. it turns into two dimensional shapes
>that i can see clearly and piece back together on my sheet of paper. I
>completely shut down the part of my brain that *knows* what's in front of
>me, and only see what *is* in front of me.
>
>it's like a zen exercise. I draw a piece of crumpled paper, but i don't
>think of the object, nor of my hand, or the pencil, or the paper i'm
>drawing on. The crumpled paper and my eyes and my mind and the pencil and
>the drawing pad are a single thing that emerges and grows like a seedling
And that's a very good description & it also seemed like the gist of the
thread which I've been following with interest. First of all I think it is
a distinctly different way of looking at the world which some people
(Lucy) stumble on by accident & which others (me,for example) must learn.
I taught myself to see this way; it took literally years. Can it be
taught? Well, I'm not sure, but I'm banking a career in museum education
on it.
Exposure is the key...I was the "bright" kid in the family & my brother
was the "artistic" one so the work I did in art was never as important as
the essays, the poems & book reports I brought back. But when I went as a
teenager & lived with lots of artists I discovered that people don't have
to think in words. I trained my own head to think in images...it's a
completely different frame of reference. Now I make a living bringing kids
to museums and trying to connect them to the work (all pre 1904) that they
encounter there. A lot of these kids have never encountered any art
outside cigarette billboards...will it change their lives? Maybe. Maybe
not. Doesn't hurt to try.
And by the way I am totally psyched tonight about life in general, because
one of my paintings was accepted to Artscape, which is (for me anyway) a
big deal in Baltimore and I am shamelessly thrilled & I want to call all
the MICA professors who scoffed and laugh anonymously into their mediocre
answering machine messages. & this is the first time in 10 years I've show
art anywhere they didn't serve beer.
felicity
Richard (R.) Bown
: > use of proprietary terms such as Seeing[tm] goes only to further the
: > mystery
: . . .Of the over-elaborated bullshit of "Creativity." Or do you doubt
: that's possible to be a lonely, eccentric, misunderstood and gifted
: assembler of domestic waste-handling systems?
heh.
: Most writers, sculptors and painters, like most plumbers, accountants
: and carpenters, are just plain hacks. Any mythtical and non-practical
: qualities pertaining thereunto or to the practitioners thereof are
: therefore ipso facto illusionary and entirely incredible hogwash.
exactamundo.
rich.
Richard (R.) Bown
: yes, thank you paul. that is all i ever meant. I never claimed to have
: suddenly acquired any sort of wisdom or mystical vision. Bown didn't like
: the word "seeing" for some reason. I don't know what else to call it.
: that's all i ever heard it called in art class or in my art books. all it
: means to me is "seeing literally."
get off your horse and drink your milk. that's exactly what i'm NOT
saying. and burn those books and go and play in the sun.
: as far as "judging artistic merit," man, cut me some slack. I love art and
: i learn what I can when I can by going to art museums, reading books and
: magazines, and discussion art with other people. Over the years i've been
: learning about what I think is good art. I don't pretend to be an expert.
: I've seen enough art that I've become a decent judge of skill and
: technique.
well there ya go. ha. listen to yourself. "i've been learning about
what i think is good art". i literally gawp at the audacity of that
statement and as for cutting you some slack . . sheesh.
make a decision once in your life without someone telling you how to do it.
look at something, like it, hate it, dismiss it. don't LEARN it - endless
spiral to Nike[tm] infomercial.
: yes, it was a major change in perception, and I'm very thankful I had the
: luck to stumble upon it without intellectualizing what i was doing. all of
: you who are jumping on me are making gross extrapolations based on a
: simple description of a mental process, and how i used that mental process
: to give me solace.
all of me? play fair, luce. if you come up with a valid argument as
to why i should see your point of view then i'll be more than happy to
read it. all i hear so far is a confused kid who has somehow decided
that appreciation comes in terms of grade points. i don't need to make
gross extrapolations to deduce this, i don't even have to read between
the lines. next thing you'll tell me that you can't fully appreciate
a picture unless you have to hand a pracie of the artist's life and
mental history.
it's laughable. you have no art here. give it up.
rich.
before this conversation "literally" "disappears" "up" "it's" "own" "hole".
Sofia Tolstoshev
Bown) wrote:
> loopy lemon (lm...@cornell.edu) wrote:
>
>
> : as far as "judging artistic merit," man, cut me some slack. I love art and
> : i learn what I can when I can by going to art museums, reading books and
> : magazines, and discussion art with other people. Over the years i've been
> : learning about what I think is good art. I don't pretend to be an expert.
> : I've seen enough art that I've become a decent judge of skill and
> : technique.
>
> well there ya go. ha. listen to yourself. "i've been learning about
> what i think is good art". i literally gawp at the audacity of that
> statement and as for cutting you some slack . . sheesh.
ooh... i just have to jump in here. bown, you're an idiot. i believe
that *on this very thread* you posted some appreciation for your ex-?
piano. i presume that you never took any lessons in how to play mozart?
did you never learn the *technique* of playing? it just, uh, came to you,
out of some deep emotional response that you had? your crap about art
being rendered pretentious (at least this seems to be the button that's
being pushed for you...) through interest in technique is complete
nonsense. if you did once play the piano, i am willing to bet that you
started "hearing" things differently as you learned to play. you probably
didn't get some extra-super-ear faculty, but i'm willing to bet that you
started listening to music, notes, rhythms, more closely and with a
different kind of attention. and if you didn't, all *that* probably means
is that you were a shitty musician.
> make a decision once in your life without someone telling you how to do it.
> look at something, like it, hate it, dismiss it. don't LEARN it - endless
> spiral to Nike[tm] infomercial.
so you think that emotional judgements without knowledge to back them up
are somehow more valid than knowlegeable ones? that'll be a great way to
get through life. you sound like newt gingrich in this post. the nike
slogan has to be one of the most insipid pieces of advice in modern
society today. "just do it". what a load of horseshit. besides, you
seem to be positing some either or situation in which an emotional
response can't be had once learning enters the picture. some wierd
dichotomy that doesn't even exist. lucie is probably *still* working from
her emotional feelings about a picture, she just has some knowledge about
*why* she feels a particular way.
>
all i hear so far is a confused kid who has somehow decided
> that appreciation comes in terms of grade points. i don't need to make
> gross extrapolations to deduce this, i don't even have to read between
> the lines. next thing you'll tell me that you can't fully appreciate
> a picture unless you have to hand a pracie of the artist's life and
> mental history.
well, if you don't need gross extrapolations to deduce this, or even have
to read between the lines, it'd be nice if you backed up these grandiose
claims about loopy's psyche with some quoted argument. but, i'm betting
you can't-- because it *isn't* in what she wrote. you are jumping to
utterly wild conclusions about what loopy has actually said and setting
her up to be a straw man. and being quite insulting along the way.
>
> it's laughable. you have no art here. give it up.
you are having a frothing attack over *nothing*.
sofi
if it's wild extrapolations we're after, i'm thinkin bown is a frustrated
artist who can't stand the idea of other people taking pleasure in it
through having the eneryg/time to actually put some effort into it...
> rich.
David P. Gollub
loopy lemon wrote:
> yes, it was a major change in perception, and I'm very thankful I had the
> luck to stumble upon it without intellectualizing what i was doing. all of
> you who are jumping on me are making gross extrapolations based on a
> simple description of a mental process, and how i used that mental process
> to give me solace.
Aah, don't sweat this mob. They'd argue with a signpost.
DGollub
and demand it cite specific references
--
All gods _were_ immortal. --Stanislaw J. Lec
Eric Sorenson
Richard (R.) Bown wrote:
] someone grab the guy rope, i can sense this argument is about to
] go around another time.
rich, you're posessed of one of the most trenchant wits i've
ever seen, but you're arguing a mediocre point with such
vehemence that i can't help but wonder, what happened to
YOUR playing?
--
er...@satanic.org http://maxx.aloha.net http://satanic.org
reagan looks into the periscope to fight claustrophobia
REAGAN LOOKS INTO THE PERISCOPE TO FIGHT CLAUSTROPHOBIA
Richard (R.) Bown
Sofia Tolstoshev (stol...@cc.swarthmore.edu) wrote:
: ooh... i just have to jump in here. bown, you're an idiot. i believe
: that *on this very thread* you posted some appreciation for your ex-?
: piano. i presume that you never took any lessons in how to play mozart?
: did you never learn the *technique* of playing? it just, uh, came to you,
[snipola]
: different kind of attention. and if you didn't, all *that* probably means
: is that you were a shitty musician.
the distinction i was making was in appreciation and not creation.
: so you think that emotional judgements without knowledge to back them up
: are somehow more valid than knowlegeable ones? that'll be a great way to
: get through life. you sound like newt gingrich in this post. the nike
: slogan has to be one of the most insipid pieces of advice in modern
: society today. "just do it". what a load of horseshit. besides, you
: seem to be positing some either or situation in which an emotional
: response can't be had once learning enters the picture. some wierd
: dichotomy that doesn't even exist. lucie is probably *still* working from
: her emotional feelings about a picture, she just has some knowledge about
: *why* she feels a particular way.
no, she's perpetuating a dangerous mode of thought.
history, experience, physiology, stomach contents. all are valid
in the realms of interpretation. why would i want to muddy the
glorious mess of my being with yet more structure?
: well, if you don't need gross extrapolations to deduce this, or even have
: to read between the lines, it'd be nice if you backed up these grandiose
: claims about loopy's psyche with some quoted argument. but, i'm betting
: you can't-- because it *isn't* in what she wrote. you are jumping to
: utterly wild conclusions about what loopy has actually said and setting
: her up to be a straw man. and being quite insulting along the way.
she can look after herself and i've quoted enough already.
: you are having a frothing attack over *nothing*.
i don't want to froth. it's messy and it's too energetic.
and this "nothing" as you put it is just a common malaise
in another form.
we give to the progressive tide of compartmentalisation and
structure and we sink into the amorphous blob of "mass culture".
it's art for art's sake. sure it may look good in Wired but
we know it's safe, super heat treated and take away. as
Mudhoney so eloquently put it:
"keep it outta my face"
: if it's wild extrapolations we're after, i'm thinkin bown is a frustrated
: artist who can't stand the idea of other people taking pleasure in it
: through having the eneryg/time to actually put some effort into it...
frustrated? no. artist? hardly. and i only question the motivation.
rich.
Richard (R.) Bown
Paul Callahan (call...@biffvm.cs.jhu.edu) wrote:
: In article <4lnftt$m...@bcrkh13.bnr.ca>,
: Richard (R.) Bown <rb...@bnr.co.uk> wrote:
: >get off your horse and drink your milk. that's exactly what i'm NOT
: >saying. and burn those books and go and play in the sun.
: Well, what are you saying, then? The concept seems clear enough to
: me. If I object to anything, it might be the complacency of calling
: it "seeing" and saying "you know what I mean."--because, unless I
: really do know what someone means, I'm going to take such a statement
: as mere snobbery. I object as well to phrases such as "Zen
: experience" since I fear that those who use such phrases are often
: nearly as ignorant of Zen as am I and just want a hip-sounding
: expression for the sense of focused concentration on one activity.
exactly. i have no quarrel over the mechanics of appreciation.
i'm getting more and more excitable about use of these loaded
artistic terms and i quite frankly see their usage as not just
snobbery but as dangerous. one common theme should perpetuate
"art" and that should be that it is for everyone.
perhaps this is all just a metaphor for the Last Great Utopian
Ideal? thought is already completely choked in cliche why not
see art as the phenotype to the mutating gene?
: I don't think Lucie was saying that to lack such "seeing" is
: tantamount to having an invalid perception of the world or even of art
: for that matter (though I'm not sure about the latter part). It just
: means that the pictures you draw aren't going to convey a sense of
: realism.
but realism (in art) doesn't matter when it comes to perception
and i'm not arguing the toss on the mechanism by which we arrive
at our conclusions.
i wouldn't dare argue that *having* this "seeing" is to have an invalid
perception. as lucie said, personal perception is indefinable. so why
then is there a need to pin the argument up and flag it as "this" or
"that"? this belongs to "this" movement, his "blue" period, her use
of "colour", the "texture". it's trite, it's cliched and meaningless.
someone grab the guy rope, i can sense this argument is about to
go around another time.
rich.
loopy lemon
In article <4lq2v0$h...@bcrkh13.bnr.ca>, rb...@bnr.co.uk (Richard (R.)
Bown) wrote:
> Paul Callahan (call...@biffvm.cs.jhu.edu) wrote:
> exactly. i have no quarrel over the mechanics of appreciation.
> i'm getting more and more excitable about use of these loaded
> artistic terms and i quite frankly see their usage as not just
> snobbery but as dangerous. one common theme should perpetuate
> "art" and that should be that it is for everyone.
sigh... bown. I believe art is for everyone. I hate art snobbery. I hate
art that can only be understood if you have an accompanying manual. I've
written about this numerous times here on the group. To be called a snob
is not only ironic, it's preposterous. You are freaking out over my use of
certain words which, to you (apparently) are loaded. Perhaps you ought to
suggest alternative terms. I had no intent of painting myself as a more
highly evolved animal. for the millionth time, all I tried to do was
describe a mental process that is difficult to describe precisely because
it is intuitive and nonverbal. Until you brought it up i neither said,
implied, nor hinted at anything about art appreciation.
the state of mind I described is real. I've experienced it many times.
Other people who draw or paint well can confirm it. it's been
scientifically studied. read felicity's post in this thread.
> : I don't think Lucie was saying that to lack such "seeing" is
> : tantamount to having an invalid perception of the world or even of art
> : for that matter (though I'm not sure about the latter part). It just
> : means that the pictures you draw aren't going to convey a sense of
> : realism.
> but realism (in art) doesn't matter when it comes to perception
> and i'm not arguing the toss on the mechanism by which we arrive
> at our conclusions.
Richard, I'd love to answer this but i'm afraid I have no idea what you're
trying to say. Paul understood me correctly.
> i wouldn't dare argue that *having* this "seeing" is to have an invalid
> perception. as lucie said, personal perception is indefinable. so why
> then is there a need to pin the argument up and flag it as "this" or
> "that"? this belongs to "this" movement, his "blue" period, her use
> of "colour", the "texture". it's trite, it's cliched and meaningless.
but now you're going right back into an argument about art appreciation.
Where on earth did this argument come from? this is what burns me. Not
only did I not say this, I don't believe it.
Yes, it is necessary to get into a particular mental state in order to
draw or paint well. True, not everyone knows how to achieve this mental
state, but I think most people could if they were taught. You seem to
think that if we acknowledge the existence of this mental state, an elite
class is formed. This is utter bullshit. Musicians have to learn to read
music, do they not? Most people can't read music. Is the existence of
written music therefore a dangerous idea? of course not. LEarning to draw
is analogous to learning how to read music. it is only a small part of
being an "artist," just as knowing how to read music is a small part of
being a musician.
Lucie
ps. but thanks for calling me a dangerous gal
David Of Bedlam
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Eric Sorenson (er...@the.satanic.org) inquired of Bown:
: what happened to YOUR playing?
I'll bet Lucie made it loopy!
TheDavid
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Richard (R.) Bown
Sofia Tolstoshev (stol...@cc.swarthmore.edu) wrote:
: In article <4lq1li$h...@bcrkh13.bnr.ca>, rb...@bnr.co.uk (Richard (R.)
: Bown) wrote:
:
: >
: > the distinction i was making was in appreciation and not creation.
: weeelll... not at first it wasn't. but, even so, why would you want to
: distinguish between them like that? the one affects the other.
depends on the standpoint, if *you've* created it then you can
appreciate it as you intended (or not as the case may be). if
you didn't create it and are purely appreciating then there is
no relationship.
[before]
: i started music, i might have simply "not liked" something, now i can say
: *why* it is that i think a given player sucks.
why is there a need for justification? why not just have an opinion?
: > no, she's perpetuating a dangerous mode of thought.
: what? no she's not. if anything, you are. you are placing art in the
: realm of mysticism, arguing that it is a transcendent object which is
: destroyed when learned about (if i understand your objections correctly).
: that's plain silly. ain't nothing more or less mysterious about it than
bingo. i'm not siding with mysticism at all. i'm on the side of
simplicity - because of this i am loathe to the comments of the
so-called educated artiste. this itself causes the mysticism in
the eyes of the uninitiated.
: was describing her experience, is all. you are enforcing structure in the
: shape of insisting that art *must* be structureless. let me lobotomize
: you and you will be free.
i definitely insisting upon thought and not blather.
: > she can look after herself and i've quoted enough already.
: oh, i'm sure she can. i argue with you merely because *i* think you're
: wrong. and i still say that you cannot back up those claims, because you
: had to extrapolate like mad to get there.
i think that we are really arguing the same side of the coin.
an there ain't any extrapolation needed to see where lucie is coming
from. and if i was her then all this third person conversation
would be driving me mad.
: i was kidding. i don't really think you are a frustrated artist (aren't
: you a computer programmer or something?) i think you are being needlessly
: prescriptive over a subject that you seem to want to free from the
: trammels of society's evil games and save as a real object. this is
: incoherent because you shut out experience even as you insist that this is
: the only way to have the experience. also, i don't think art works like
: that for everybody (tho it does for some people). you seem to. you
: question loopy's motivations, but i question yours
: sofi
: god, i'm hungover. i suppose this makes no sense.
so if i'm a computer programmer then i can't be an artist?
rich.
lateandterse
Richard (R.) Bown
Eric Sorenson (er...@the.satanic.org) wrote:
[...]
: but you're arguing a mediocre point with such
: vehemence that i can't help but wonder, what happened to
: YOUR playing?
this point is very important. it just galls me that i can't
express it succinctly.
davey'll tell you, it all comes in shapes and colours and smells
and has nothing to do with words. yes, metaphysical.
and what has my playing got to do with it. i'm arguing semantics
here - nothing as interesting as tangibility.
rich.
Sofia Tolstoshev
In article <4lq1li$h...@bcrkh13.bnr.ca>, rb...@bnr.co.uk (Richard (R.)
Bown) wrote:
>
> the distinction i was making was in appreciation and not creation.
weeelll... not at first it wasn't. but, even so, why would you want to
distinguish between them like that? the one affects the other. creators
appreciate other people's creations in the same area differently. they
do. or maybe it's more like a translation of unease or pleasure-- before
i started music, i might have simply "not liked" something, now i can say
*why* it is that i think a given player sucks. loopy never said that she
questioned the appreciation capacity of others. she was describing her
experience.
>
>
> no, she's perpetuating a dangerous mode of thought.
what? no she's not. if anything, you are. you are placing art in the
realm of mysticism, arguing that it is a transcendent object which is
destroyed when learned about (if i understand your objections correctly).
that's plain silly. ain't nothing more or less mysterious about it than
anything else. there is nothing wrong with informing yourself. it doesn't
destroy your emotional responses. in fact, it may even refine them. yes,
it will change them. i'm sure there are certain subjects about which we
*prefer* to be ignorant, because there is a pleasure to the emotional
response undiluted with knowledge. for me, sculpture is one of these. i
don't want to learn about it, i just want to look at it, & play with
clay. but, i also don't dismiss/ question the emotional responses of
people who *have* taken the time to learn about it. doing so would be
obnoxious.
>
> history, experience, physiology, stomach contents. all are valid
> in the realms of interpretation. why would i want to muddy the
> glorious mess of my being with yet more structure?
then don't, bown. no one's making you. you're the one who is insisting
that other people refuse structure, loopy's not foisting structure upon
you, you know. you are the one with all the prescriptions, not her. she
was describing her experience, is all. you are enforcing structure in the
shape of insisting that art *must* be structureless. let me lobotomize
you and you will be free.
> she can look after herself and i've quoted enough already.
oh, i'm sure she can. i argue with you merely because *i* think you're
wrong. and i still say that you cannot back up those claims, because you
had to extrapolate like mad to get there.
>
> frustrated? no. artist? hardly. and i only question the motivation.
i was kidding. i don't really think you are a frustrated artist (aren't
you a computer programmer or something?) i think you are being needlessly
prescriptive over a subject that you seem to want to free from the
trammels of society's evil games and save as a real object. this is
incoherent because you shut out experience even as you insist that this is
the only way to have the experience. also, i don't think art works like
that for everybody (tho it does for some people). you seem to. you
question loopy's motivations, but i question yours
sofi
god, i'm hungover. i suppose this makes no sense.
> rich.
Loopy
In article <4lrhbi$j...@bcrkh13.bnr.ca>, rb...@bnr.co.uk (Richard (R.)
Bown) wrote:
> Sofia Tolstoshev (stol...@cc.swarthmore.edu) wrote:
> [before]
> : i started music, i might have simply "not liked" something, now i can say
> : *why* it is that i think a given player sucks.
> why is there a need for justification? why not just have an opinion?
it's not justification so much as informed appreciation.
> bingo. i'm not siding with mysticism at all. i'm on the side of
> simplicity - because of this i am loathe to the comments of the
> so-called educated artiste. this itself causes the mysticism in
> the eyes of the uninitiated.
oh, please. if knowing a few vocabulary words makes me a snob, so be it.
If it causes the ignorant to feel ignorant, whose problem is that?
> i definitely insisting upon thought and not blather.
oh really? you seem to be advocating thought without vocabulary. How can
you talk about music without knowing what is meant by rhythm, tempo, tone,
melody? remarkably enough, the visual arts work the same way.
> : oh, i'm sure she can. i argue with you merely because *i* think you're
> : wrong. and i still say that you cannot back up those claims, because you
> : had to extrapolate like mad to get there.
> i think that we are really arguing the same side of the coin.
> an there ain't any extrapolation needed to see where lucie is coming
> from. and if i was her then all this third person conversation
> would be driving me mad.
no, it's not bothering me in the least. I'm not even particularly offended
by the misguided and mistaken ideas you're throwing around. what irks me
is that you've chosen to attack me personally because you think I
represent a particular view that you don't like. trouble is, I don't.
Sofia Tolstoshev
In article <3181bc06...@news.neosoft.com>, jjs...@neosoft.com
(LawyerBoy 0.001) wrote:
> stol...@cc.swarthmore.edu (Sofia Tolstoshev) wrote:
>
>
> >the baby with the bathwater, in my opinion. you are indighting (sp?)
>
> I'm assuming you meant "indicting." If there's one thing I'll know for my
> impending demise ala my Crim Pro final... it's how to spell indictment.
yes, that is indeed what i meant. "indicting" looks so wrong to me,
somehow. it isn't pronounced that way at all. but i'm not in the mood to
whine about my problems with words and reading and how difficult a time i
had with the whole thing. heh.
> exception... Mapp v. Ohio... due process... Miranda... I NEED A CIGARETTE!
>
> Ahhh...
i need one too. grr. good luck on your final. sounds like you need to
STUDY hard.
sofi
>
>
> LawyerBoy 0.001 | http://www.neosoft.com/~jjsims/
> ---------------------------------------------------
> "'Cuz I'm drinking for the pleasure of falling
> and I'm falling for the pleasure of pretending..." - Cowboy Junkies
>
David Of Bedlam
-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE-----
Loopy (lm...@cornell.edu) wrote:
[chomperooni]
: you've chosen to attack me personally because you think I represent a
: particular view that you don't like. trouble is, I don't.
That's right, actually: Loopy doesn't represent anything, even herself.
TheDavid
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Richard (R.) Bown
Loopy (lm...@cornell.edu) wrote:
: oh, please. if knowing a few vocabulary words makes me a snob, so be it.
: If it causes the ignorant to feel ignorant, whose problem is that?
it's more than that, it's what the words represent.
: > i definitely insisting upon thought and not blather.
: oh really? you seem to be advocating thought without vocabulary. How can
: you talk about music without knowing what is meant by rhythm, tempo, tone,
: melody? remarkably enough, the visual arts work the same way.
now this is a great subject. thought with vocab. (and i'm not just
talking about actually expressing the thought) is something that's been
bothering me for a while now. err, yes. ha ha.
ok, i jumped on the use of the term "seeing" that i admit has irked me
for what i believe it stands for . . . and perhaps it's misguided for
me to hold an irrational flag to the wind just because it sends alarm
bells off in my head BUT i rather like the notion of campaigning for
something that i can't rationalise.
but anyway, no. why do you need to talk about music in common terms
when hand gestures often do the trick? or indeed silence? visual
arts is a completely different kettle of fish. music is found in
just about everyone's lives - appreciation, performing, hating.
as such there are a host of socialogical reasons for justifying one's
likes etc. for a genre or a band. there is a concept that has been
done to death and in itself is a laughable pretence. pick up any
music paper and have a good laugh.
the visual arts are not as open to general interpretations as music
simply because the exposure is not as great - the media change and
the product changes. you can see a monet in a book, discuss it without
ever seeing it for real - it's a different experience. BUT that
experience is also different according to where you view, what
light is available and on your mood - ad infinitum. what is purely
a pretty picture for your pleasure should always stay that way. and
to appreciate that you need no training. to discuss and to dissect
is to simplify and destroy and to perform this needless operation in
the pat terms we hear is to make even those pieces worthless.
music has already gone over the edge. we can talk in terms that
we despise, use the manual inverted commas, laugh at our own
pretensions. perhaps this is the difference - i don't get to
talk art with people on a daily basis and as such it's something
i don't need to explain quickly to someone, we use the accepted
terms to convey meaning in this circumstance - from my standpoint
there is no need perhaps it cheapens my experience?
still, even though i could attribute my feelings to my experience
does this make the statement any less valid? another solipsist's
marathon but we've been running on different tracks.
[third person conversation]
: no, it's not bothering me in the least. I'm not even particularly offended
: by the misguided and mistaken ideas you're throwing around. what irks me
: is that you've chosen to attack me personally because you think I
: represent a particular view that you don't like. trouble is, I don't.
my ideas aren't misguided. if anything they're well guided but the
target in question is somewhat nebulous and ill-defined. what is
wrong with basing my argument on your statements and reactions?
i attacked you personally (sic) because that's what you said.
have i been unfairly ad hominen in my replies?
as said time and time again it'd be pretty boring if we all went
around agreeing with each other's opinions. i enjoy arguing and
this has been one of the most interesting arguments i've had in
ages. it will give me ample comfort for the hibernation and
return to random one liner's.
rich.
David Of Bedlam
-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE-----
Richard (R.) Bown (rb...@bnr.co.uk) wrote:
[. . .]
: davey'll tell you, it all comes in shapes and colours and smells
: and has nothing to do with words. yes, metaphysical.
-------------------
No, WOMEN.
Cheez!
TheDavey
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The Dawnwich Horror
When Lucie talked about seeing, I thought about an exercise that I tried
when I was a kid. I was trying to draw a rabbit, but all I could draw
was some stupid coloring-book/cartoon thing that looked a lot more like
Bugs Bunny than it did like anything I would see in my backyard. I
started to go get an encyclopedia so I'd have a photo to work from. But
then I started to think that I *know* what a rabbit looks like -- when I
think rabbit, I see rabbit in my head and it's a real rabbit and not
Bugs. It was only when I tried to draw a rabbit that the mental picture
disappeared to be replaced with what I had been told rabbits look like.
I discovered that I could draw a better picture with my eyes closed and
that imaginary realistic bunny firmly in mind than I could when I tried
with my eyes open.
Or even earlier in grade school, I remember saying to a friend who was
drawing one of those lollipop trees that trees don't look at all like
that. I showed her my tree with a trunk and some branches and a mass of
leaves, and she said "that's a better tree" and then proceeded to draw a
whole bunch that looked just like mine, identical down to the individual
leaves. It drove me nuts -- didn't she know what trees looked like,
hadn't she ever looked at a tree before? Any idiot knows that they don't
look like lollipops and I couldn't understand why anyone older than four
would do that. Now, I realize that the Picture and the Object are
completely different things and for most people the connection is much
weaker than it is for me. I wasn't drawing a bunny, I was drawing a
picture of a bunny, or rather, a picture of a picture of a bunny. That's
all I could draw because the picture that I was drawing wasn't connected
to any real rabbit so much as it was connected to all the pictures of
rabbits that I'd seen.
I have this arguement with my husband when we're drawing with Alice.
He's still in that mode where he has to *learn* how to draw a dog, which
then will not carry over into knowing how to draw a cat. He gets
irritated if he asks me to show him how to make a cat and I answer that
I know that he's seen cats before. Sheesh, if you know what a cat looks
like, then why shouldn't you just be able to sit down and draw one
without looking? It's not like you would ever meet a cat and then think,
wait a minute, is that really a cat or aren't the ears supposed to do
soemthing different? Why can't you recognize what's on your paper the
same way?
I'm not sure that's what Lucie meant when she talked about learning how
to see, but amazingly few people seem to get something that seems
completely obvious to me, and so when she mentioned "learning to see"
this is what I understood her to mean. But then, I guess I just process
information visually. My husband can hear a song and then figure out how
to play it on the guitar, and I guess that's the same mental process.
He would be justified in saying to me that if I recognize Happy Birthday
to You that I ought to be able to pick it out on the strings without
taking an hour of trial and error, which I couldn't do. I guess I've
never learned how to hear.
Dawn
--
Dawn Albright
da...@netcom.com
Angelus Press: http://www.greyware.com/Angelus
Loopy
In article <4m0a0c$p...@bcrkh13.bnr.ca>, rb...@bnr.co.uk (Richard (R.)
Bown) wrote:
> Loopy (lm...@cornell.edu) wrote:
> : oh really? you seem to be advocating thought without vocabulary. How can
> : you talk about music without knowing what is meant by rhythm, tempo, tone,
> : melody? remarkably enough, the visual arts work the same way.
[snip]
> but anyway, no. why do you need to talk about music in common terms
> when hand gestures often do the trick? or indeed silence?
Of course, you don't _need_ the vocabulary in order to appreciate the
music. but you need vocabulary words if you wish to discuss a subject on
anything other than the most simplistic and banal level ("Uh, it's got a
good beat and I can dance to it!"). I think you really are advocating
ignorance as a higher mode of thought.
> visual
> arts is a completely different kettle of fish. music is found in
> just about everyone's lives - appreciation, performing, hating.
> as such there are a host of socialogical reasons for justifying one's
> likes etc. for a genre or a band. there is a concept that has been
> done to death and in itself is a laughable pretence. pick up any
> music paper and have a good laugh.
Well, Bown, i suppose you spend your life naked, you live in a cardboard
house, you read books that are printed out especially for you on a
dot-matrix printer, you have a yard that contains nothing but dirt and
weeds, and you buy all of your food at the local organic market where they
load your flour into a brown paper sack. In addition to that, you don't go
to the movies, you don't watch TV, you don't go to any stores, and your
computer has no monitor. When you venture outside, you carefully cover
your eyes with your hands so that you can avoid seeing everything around
you -- traffic signs, the inside of your car, houses, gardens,
storefronts, people.
Visual arts are even more ubiquitous than music. I can turn off the radio
and avoid places that play music. But everything around you that's manmade
was designed by someone. It may be more or less functional or decorative,
but it still reflects someone's esthetic sense. The design of objects
around you tells about your culture, your time, your age. We can tell the
time period (sometimes down to the year) of a movie based on costumes,
hairstyles, color schemes, cars, objects in the background, the lettering
used on signs or the design of bookcovers.
When you say that music is a bigger part of everyone's life, you may be
correct in that it is a bigger _conscious_ part of our lives. In the
modern world, music has replaced religion as the collective obsession.
it's preposterous. People who claim not to adhere to any organized faith
will go to ridiculous lengths to get into a concert, buy t-shirts,
practically assume the personalities of the band members. but that's a
separate rant and I don't think you were going that far when you made your
statement.
> the visual arts are not as open to general interpretations as music
> simply because the exposure is not as great - the media change and
> the product changes. you can see a monet in a book, discuss it without
> ever seeing it for real - it's a different experience. BUT that
> experience is also different according to where you view, what
> light is available and on your mood - ad infinitum. what is purely
> a pretty picture for your pleasure should always stay that way. and
> to appreciate that you need no training. to discuss and to dissect
> is to simplify and destroy and to perform this needless operation in
> the pat terms we hear is to make even those pieces worthless.
well, that's bullshit. first of all visual arts are more than a silly
diversion. secondly, you do need training (or as i prefer to put it, you
need a basic knowledge of the subject) before you can discuss any subject
intelligently.
> music has already gone over the edge. we can talk in terms that
> we despise, use the manual inverted commas, laugh at our own
> pretensions. perhaps this is the difference - i don't get to
> talk art with people on a daily basis and as such it's something
> i don't need to explain quickly to someone, we use the accepted
> terms to convey meaning in this circumstance - from my standpoint
> there is no need perhaps it cheapens my experience?
i fail to see how knowledge can cheapen your experience.
loopy:
> : no, it's not bothering me in the least. I'm not even particularly offended
> : by the misguided and mistaken ideas you're throwing around. what irks me
> : is that you've chosen to attack me personally because you think I
> : represent a particular view that you don't like. trouble is, I don't.
> my ideas aren't misguided. if anything they're well guided but the
> target in question is somewhat nebulous and ill-defined. what is
> wrong with basing my argument on your statements and reactions?
Nothing. I wish you _had_ based your argument on my statements, that's
all. All i ever did was describe my mental state while drawing (she said,
for the millionth time).
Loopy
In article <318700d4....@news.neosoft.com>, jjs...@neosoft.com
(LawyerBoy 0.001) wrote:
> stol...@cc.swarthmore.edu (Sofia Tolstoshev) wrote:
> >yes, that is indeed what i meant. "indicting" looks so wrong to me,
> >somehow. it isn't pronounced that way at all.
> Yup. I wonder about the word's origin. How in the hell did someone come up
> with "indict(*)" when indight would be the logical spelling? light, night,
> fight, indight! Makes sense to me. ::shrug:::
i assume it's because like most legal terms, "indict" comes from French,
whereas all words containing "-ight" are anglo-saxon.
Chris
In article <lmm5-01059...@cu-dialup-0038.cit.cornell.edu>
lm...@cornell.edu "Loopy" writes:
Or did it come direct from the Latin "indictio" meaning a declaration. And
like most English ( and French ) words the pronunciation has changed but
the spelling stayed the same.
Light etc., apart from in parts of Scotland, are not pronounced as they are
spelt either.
--
Chris
Nothing to do with the thread, which I am actually finding very interesting,
but it's all my brain is up to at the moment.
David Of Bedlam
-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE-----
Paul Callahan (call...@condor.cs.jhu.edu) wrote:
[...]
: fooling people into writing ill-conceived spelling flames (and
: I know David at least is like that, based on the time he wrote
: "turbid" in a context where people would assume he meant "turgid").
Thank you Dr. Callahan: I've double-checked my Hairy Perry Dictionary, so
I can confirm writing "turbid" because I _meant_ "turbid", as in "murky",
"dense" and "confused" -- like my critics' "thought processes." Kudos for
your keen perspicacity. I'm unsure though whether commas go inside quotes
or outside them, and because I'm too tired to look THAT up now I'll query
y'all instead.
Illiterately,
TheDavid
- --
a fugitive and a wanderer | There Is No David Quite Like TheDavid, Really!
A FUGITIVE AND A WANDERER | http://www.clark.net/pub/thedavid/trythis.html
^L
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Sofia Tolstoshev
In article <831021...@railton.demon.co.uk>, Ch...@ccr.bris.ac.uk wrote:
>
> > In article <318700d4....@news.neosoft.com>, jjs...@neosoft.com
> > (LawyerBoy 0.001) wrote:
> > > fight, indight! Makes sense to me. ::shrug:::
> >
> > i assume it's because like most legal terms, "indict" comes from French,
> > whereas all words containing "-ight" are anglo-saxon.
> >
>
> Or did it come direct from the Latin "indictio" meaning a declaration. And
> like most English ( and French ) words the pronunciation has changed but
> the spelling stayed the same.
man, i wish someone had taught me latin. i bet it would have helped my
spelling a lot.
sofi
yeah yeah. nothing of interest here. move it along.
> --
> Chris
Jonah Thomas
In <4m9q54$8...@clarknet.clark.net> thed...@clark.net (David Of Bedlam)
writes:
> I'm unsure though whether commas go inside quotes
>or outside them, and because I'm too tired to look THAT up now I'll query
>y'all instead.
It depends. Traditionally, commas used to go inside quotes. That was the
rule the old-fashioned English teachers taught the high school students,
and it tended to stick. After all, the people who really _need_
traditional grammar are secretaries, who tend to remember what they
learned in high school.
People who are used to logic tend to put the commas outside the quotes,
where they logically go. Likewise other punctuation, unless it's
punctuation that's part of the quote instead of part of the outer
sentence. For example,
Nobody showed the slightest interest when Bob quoted Cato, "Carthago
delenda est!".
The ! belongs inside the quotes, indicated Bob's emphasis, while the flat
period goes outside for the unremarkable sentence.
This form of punctuation is becoming increasingly common, as increasingly
larger numbers of logical people write for themselves instead of passing
it all to their secretaries. ;-> It has not yet become the undisputed
standard -- that will have to wait for the present generation of English
teachers to die off.
Incidentally, you may have wondered how the English teachers found out the
rules in the first place. Well, some of the rules got handed down from
earlier people who made them up. And some of them are getting made up as
we go along. For example, there's the rule about commas for things in
series. First, second, third, and fourth. Do you put the comma after the
next-to-last item? Some English teachers say yes, some say no. I
remember my old english teacher told us she was at the meeting where a lot
of English teachers voted to decide which way they'd teach it on the east
coast. After the vote, all along the east coast the teachers said that
one way was right and the other way was wrong. And they didn't say that
opposite ways were wrong in neighboring school districts, which had been
an irritation.
I hope this helps you understand the importance of correct grammar. If
you fail to use precisely correct grammar, people may misunderstand you.
And they may look down on you as an uneducated bum. You have been warned.
8-)