(no subject)
Oct. 11th, 2001 03:12 pmI love reading Charles de Lint. I start thinking in myth.
I've also been thinking about my creativity, partly because of
nanowrimo and partly because of lampworking class. I feel kind of unworthy a lot of the time because I am primarily an input person and I don't have a lot of Big Creative Ideas. It occurred to me that in the past an artistic person could spend a whole lifetime working on gargoyles or mosaic edging, and that maybe I am an embellisher instead of a builder. I might sometimes have ideas for the whole cathedral, but putting beauty into the world doesn't have to happen on a grand scale. It's perfectly okay to need a jumping-off point; it doesn't mean I'm less creative, just differently so.
I'm not entirely convinced yet, but I think this is a good thing to consider.
I've also been thinking about my creativity, partly because of
I'm not entirely convinced yet, but I think this is a good thing to consider.
no subject
Date: 2001-10-11 03:31 pm (UTC)Most of my musical inspiration is internal, and most of my knotwork expiration is external, for the record.
no subject
Date: 2001-10-11 03:45 pm (UTC)I want to make a thing whole in itself. I guess I used to do it with clay sometimes, but I feel like that was an outgrowth of messing about until I had enough randomness to choose a seed. I never have an inspiration just from me, and I feel like if one is a Real Artist one is supposed to have that.
no subject
Date: 2001-10-12 01:51 am (UTC)The only difference between that and my knotwork design is that it's less of a direct connection. With the knotwork, I see something and move directly from that to a pattern ("Oh, look, a Kokopelli! I bet I could make a Kokopelli pattern"). With the music, all my combined musical knowledge collects in my brain, and then I decide that I want to write in a certain mood, and riffle through my memories of other music that's brought on that mood ("Hmm, it's chilly and autumnal. That would be a sort of brisk minor melody"); or words that I've encountered put themselves together and I write music for them in the same fashion, like "Spare Change". It's still work. I've only very rarely experienced anything like a song appearing, complete, in my head. And the last time I got a full-blown chorus that way, I examined the melody closely and realized it was borrowed wholesale from someplace else.
I don't see arranging harmonies or arranging beads as fundamentally different from arranging notes or arranging words. It's just a matter of what you've encountered and what's implanted itself in your brain. I just know how music goes, because I listen to so much of it. I know how sentences are built because I've read thousands and thousands of them. The way that melodies and sentences and verses and rhythms and rhymes go together just... makes sense to me.