Friday, January 11, 2008

Philistine or a Bohemian?

Before I launch into my philosophical musings of this past week (I’ve been jotting down some things in my limited spare time).. first, a HOORAY!

I am now playing with her hair (in photoshop.. to decide what I want to do there):

Her feetsie details are coming in…

Here I show off those sexy pecs I was talking about!

Annnnnnnnnnd her face still needs matching up (sighs)

Ok…Am I a Philistine or a Bohemian…


Show Spelled Pronunciation[fil-uh-steen, -stahyn, fi-lis-tin, -teen] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation



(sometimes initial capital letter) a person who is lacking in or hostile or smugly indifferent to cultural values, intellectual pursuits, aesthetic refinement, etc., or is contentedly commonplace in ideas and tastes.


Show Spelled Pronunciation[boh-hee-mee-uhn] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation



(usually lowercase) a person, as an artist or writer, who lives and acts free of regard for conventional rules and practices.

In my family I am sooooomewhat of a black sheep with this sculpting for “collectible collectors”. And I gladly rebel against the concept that art should be refined and make a statement about society. And yet I *do* feel that my art ought to invoke some feeling of what’s being expressed. It’s an interesting conundrum. I think my past posts show enough about me that any reader would get that I’m not a conformist. Yet I also have a major disdain for intellectualism taken to the point of judging others by such measure.

My family has artists and art teachers who’ve taught and sold works of great acclaim – and it’s all very stylized. Obviously I’m attempting to do the opposite: and investing great great time in trying to achieve the realism. Realism is synonymous with conformity to the fine art world and it’s greatly frowned upon.

I was raised with all the cultural input my family could provide. Classical music, art, world culture exposure where ever possible. The works. I wanted riding lessons. I even wanted gymnastics as a 2nd choice. I got violin. I hated the violin. I think the only violin piece I’ve ever wanted to play was ala Charlie Daniels (“Devil went down to Georgia”). Instead I was bombarded with Paganini nightmares and Strauss waltzes that I just wasn’t into at that age (I started at 4 and went until I was 13 years old with the Suzuki method).

Anyhow, the importance of “culture” and “music” training was big in my family so I went along with it. Frankly I just wanted to do horsie things and nothing else. I never practiced. It was a constant hour of torture to go into lessons each week and be confronted by my lack of practicing/improving. My teacher was a Quaker and I’m not sure if it was that or just her very direct/honest manner in general but I definitely got the impression she knew I could do better and wasn’t impressed by my fibbing along with no practice and weekly struggle to get through the painful sessions. The girl before me was the talk of the town. This is incredibly important to the whole point of my musings here… see, my teacher would uphold this gal’s example to me and point out how much SHE would practice every day for hours whilst I floundered along not improving much at all each week. One day I was feeling contrite actually and asked if this girl (who was maybe 7 years older than me and started after me but progressed to levels far above me in a few short years).. I asked anyhow if she would practice if she had a broken arm. Remember my sassing there distinctly b/c that’s how annoying it all was to me.

Righto. So aside from that gal being the star of our statewide Suzuki group.. was her mother. I distinctly remember how “stuffy” her mother was. That’s about all I got as an impression at my tender age. Just sort of “watch out for the uptight mom”. She yelled at us sometimes after concerts for making her kid look bad. She was a bit of a culture fanatic. Hence my point. Her daughter cracked in her teens and had her boyfriend kill the mom. Sincerely. Google searches can tell you the rest of the story:

There was a book (which I’ve read) and a movie (haven’t seen it) about that poor kid (Karin Aparo) who my violin teacher used to point out to me as an icon of the dream student.

Damn glad I’m not a dream student, eh? ;)

I felt similarly in marketing.. sometimes people are a leeeeeeeeetttle too uptight about appearances imo.

Perhaps it’s the Libra in me (needing balance). Perhaps I am just a tad bit too plebian.. I just don’t fit the Bohemian mold.

I was reminded of this whole cultural disdain I have at times when I was listening to a book on tape in the studio, a lecture series. 14 Classes about music history. The professor was droning on about the need for music listeners to “develop their ear”. LIKE HELL I say! It behooves the artist, composer and performer to bring out their artistic expression in a way that “does it” for people. That grips them and gets their attention and makes them forget things and feel what the piece is bringing to the table.

I have just never bought into this with my own art. Some very cultured members of my family have lamented that some of my more realistic horse sculptures aren’t as full of character as my childhood drawings. Well certainly. My childhood drawings were filled with technical exaggerations and often were drawn from memory (so I remembered saddlebreds for instance as having knee action that nearly touched their chins and thus drew this). ;) It’s an interesting musing to find the artist within ones self that still HAS expression within the bounds of realism.

When I go to the Kentucky Horse Park the only point of interest to me is really their art museum. I adore looking at some of the realist art that might be called “low brow” art I suppose. But to me there are certain works out there that just stop you in your tracks and take your breath away. If you are an animal person, you just recognize that the artist “felt” that animal’s presence.

That is what I aim for. Perhaps I should describe myself as a pragmatic corporealist. :D

I was driving along the other day and heard “The Devil went down to Georgia” and thought of how I’d still really wish I could play that. ;)

No comments: