Welcome to Writing Session #2. Feel free to share what you want to write about, any inspirations you have and what you have written this session.
I started work on a piece about Oslo last session but I am feeling more invigorated to write about blogging, what draws me to it and what I like about it.
âBlogging is dead, long live bloggingâ
Some thoughts:
- rolling your own website is modern day bookbinding
- blogging is both incredibly personal yet can be universal, thereâs a skill in sharing enough about oneâs life to be relatable but not too much that it devolves into gossip
- you get to learn about and have conversations with people at different stages in their lives
- you can speedrun getting to know someone
- you can look back on your thoughts
Some things Iâd like to share from this session:
a love letter to blogs
Photos of the mind
Itâs a way for you to talk to a past self as well. Thereâs something different that happens with writing rather than taking photos. There is an inherent process that comes from writing. Two people could take almost identical photos of the same monument but if given a postcard would write probably indistinguishable things. This is because writing describes as much of our inner world as our outer.
Writing is an interesting process because itâs continuous. Itâs a creation over a long period of time. No one knows what word is going to come next and for the most part itâs as unique as a thumbprint.
Digital Artifacts
Blogs as internet artifacts are also interesting. They exist everywhere and nowhere. Anyone in the world can access these words but at the same time it can be removed immediately too. An ephemera.
Blogs as homes
When I think of someone setting up their blog. I imagine them making a lot small choices that reflect their taste. Itâs like going into someoneâs room. Itâs a place where they would want to come back to regularly and feel comfortable.
Donât be afraid to publish.
If you are misunderstood, it is not the end of the world but rather the beginning of it.
The ones who agree with you will be brought closer to you and the ones who criticise you might actually have valid insights worth integrating.
I think of Ursula Le Guinnâs notes that she added to The Left Hand of Darkness. It was a sci-fi book written in the 60âs that attempted to tackle the idea of gender and sexuality. There were some criticisms that came her way that pointed to things she overlooked but now the book is published with a foreward with her thoughts on the criticism. As an artwork, the orginal piece and her analysis are now combined and I think thatâs a beautiful thing.
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the notes I was working on: https://serene-vermillionfate.wordpress.com/
site is bare but Iâll have it all spruced up soon
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Wasnât really sure what to write about this session, so I brainstormed about a statement a friend of mine recently made: âsad artists make the best artâ. I used the time to think about how I view âhappyâ or âsadâ art, and which one is more prominent or âbetterâ. I canât say I found a definitive answer, but I do think the statement itself isnât made for that anyway. Maybe it is simply highly subjective and perhaps not even a general statement but rather an expression of an individualâs favorite art form. Here are some of my thoughts, taken out of context. I just think they sounded nice:
- After a week in Oslo, visiting the Munch Museum, seeing loads of Edvard Munchâs paintings, his thoughts put on a thin canvas, oil paint piling up at the edges, creating a rough surface that was once a clean white sheet - the thought of âsad artists make the best artâ revisited me.
- Somehow, I couldnât allow myself to agree with the statement. Which seemed hypocritical, since out of all my own poems, the ones I like best are from my most hurtful experiences: a shattered heart left on the floor of my apartment by the person it loved most, the anger building up after I ran out of tears, as well as the frustration and despair of unrequited love.
- I remembered the playlist in my phone of summer songs and songs about falling in love with their upbeat, happy tunes. I love that playlist. My friend must be wrong⌠right? My eyes fall on the name of my playlist: âOh no⌠not againâ. Iâve named my âhappy-dappy, lovebird-, head-over-heels-playlistâ after one of the worst negative feelings of having a new crush: fear of rejection.
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Regarding your thoughts about good art coming from sad places: there was a video I saw on youtube about Van Gogh a long time ago. I have forgotten what it was called now but it told the story of âStarry nightâ and everyone associates it with his suffering because it was meant to be a view from his asylum.
The video went into detail about the asylum actually being a good place for Vincent because although he was ill, his brother Theo had spent good money to ensure Vincent was placed with a specialist doctor who had very few patients who were all taken care of. Vincent got better with time and further research showed that his view from his room wasnât wide enough to capture everything in the painting (if I recall correctly) and the scene of the town below must have come from his walking around after being discharged.
Maybe Vincent was on the mend when he made the piece. After all if one was truly in the depths of suffering they wouldnât be able to do anything at all, not even eat.
Maybe the âgoodâ art doesnât come from suffering but rather the from the processing of suffering. We have begun to move again, to move our hand and the brush, to move our fingers across the keyboard, to move ourselves from the past. The âgoodâ art might come from our movement from or through the pain.
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âWe have begun to move againâ
âThe âgoodâ art might come from our movement from or through the painâ
I really love this perspective! Art doesnât only help to remember, relive or capture what we previously felt, but also to actively guide us through our emotions while we feel them. âMovementâ captures that beautifully!