Recently on facebook i got into a debate with a woman who distinguished art from craft. She sees them as two quite distinct skills. Art to her is always creative and primarily so while craft is useful and involves no creativity at all. The debate began with a newspaper article I posted about George McLean, a realist painter of Ontario wildlife and wild lands.
Here it is: George McLean
To this person, George McLean is not truly an artist becaue his paintings look like photographs and to her have no element of creativity. I disagreed as to me ‘Art’ must make something inside me dance and react on a spectrum ranging from horror to joy on its extremes. I had just finished looking at these:
Definitely art to me…. but I guess not to all.
But what does this have to do with writing? Well, my writing, either poetry, or prose/poetry or pure prose tries (and I suspect fails more often than not) to effect that leap of the heart in the reader or reader/viewer in my work that combines the visual with the written. I try to do for others what ‘art’ does for me.
I am drifting further and farther both, from the world of hard definitions, of lines drawn around sections of reality in attempts to seal them off from other sections of reality. I am not comfortable even with the idea of ‘sections’. I am drawn inexorably into a vortex of holism. Painting, music, photography, sculpture, industrial design, poetry, prose….. life. All one swirling living mass that invites me to dive into and taste.