Theory |
But in this more contemporary usage – the word practice has
taken on an enlarged and more positive significance. We speak of creative practice in the same
sense that the word it is used by Zen monks and Jesuit novitiates describing
their day-to-day spiritual life. Practice in this positive sense lies much
more at the heart of the creative process in the same way it is accepted as integral
to spiritual faith. It is not so much a means as an end in itself. In the traditional western framework (by
which I mean to say the framework I grew up with in America of the 1960’s) we
practiced hitting fungo or played scales on the cello solely in order to
prepare for a performance or some other significant future event, which would
be “real” as opposed to practice. But in
the more contemporary sense of the term, we really pursue our artistic practice
as a path unto itself.
Much of this shift in thinking and in our lexicon, I
believe, is due to the increasingly widespread influence of various eastern
traditions, and in particular Buddhism, across the broad landscape of American
culture. For at least 50 years now there
has been a significant degree of overlap between various creative communities
and Buddhist sanghas, with a long
list of prominent avant-garde artists who are active Buddhist practitioners or
fellow travelers, of one stripe or another, from Jack Kerouac to John Cage to
Jasper Johns and Brice Mardin. And
more and more, at least among my circle of friends, it has become increasingly
common for creative people to include meditation as an integral part of their
creative process. In fact, it seems
increasingly common for creative and spiritual practice to begin overlapping, to become part of a single more integrating life experience. When that happens it brings an entirely
different dimension to your creative life.
Creativity is no longer simply a matter of following your passion. Of course, it’s something you can still feel
passionate about, but it also goes beyond passion and takes you right down into
the inner most code of your personal operating system – it’s the way you begin
to find and express new meaning from day to day.
I think this represents a change much for the better in the
way we understand what it means to be creative – it heralds something of a new age
in which spiritual and creative practice come together as one. It leads us towards creative work that is far less
driven by the dictates of the market, and towards art that is more attuned or responsive to the
illumination cast by an inner light. This
is what I believe it means to be working towards or practicing a faith-based
art. It does not require or entail an
artist-practitioner to adhere to any particular set of beliefs or dogma – our
only dogma or dharma is that which flows from the creative practice itself. We become fully committed to using our
artistic practice as a way to engage with and learn more about the world, as a
direct extension or integral part of our spiritual practice, whatever that may
happen to entail.
* *
* * *
I know many artists for whom the seed of inspiration was
first nurtured by close association with a spiritual and artistic mentor. Quite simply, there’s no substitute for the
knowledge that you can glean up close from watching an inspired artist at work
in the flesh, breathing the same air and directly observing the creative process
as it unfolds. It is a form of knowledge
that unfolds in a wordless fashion much like the truth of the Flower Sermon. In
my case, the artist who has inspired me most
-- sad to say – is not someone I ever had a chance to meet personally,
even though so much of my current life is directly shaped by his genius.
Mr. Apology, Allan Bridge |
I am referring to the artist Allan Bridge better known as
Mr. Apology. Valentine’s Day is his
birthday and this year he would have been 72 years old. He died in an accident in 1995. His death for me is a source of many mixed
feelings and meanings. Tragic in the
full sense of the word – the way Euripides understood tragedy – Allan was an
artist who was literally consumed by the brilliance of his vision – he gave
everything of himself to his work and ultimately it destroyed him. His masterpiece was a conceptual art project
called the Apology Line, which he launched in 1980 and then devoted the next 15
years of his life to nurturing and expanding into the world’s first electronic
community – a community that predated the advent of the Internet by more than a
dozen years. He did it all with twisted
pair copper wire and answering machines he bought at Radio Shack and then jerry
rigged to suit the purposes of his artistic and spiritual vision – to provide a
safe haven (which he operated entirely outside any established religious,
cultural or legal framework) where anyone could call and apologize for whatever
was troubling their heart or soul. Many
thousands of people did. You can read more about Allan and his incredible work by clicking here.
I say Allan’s death is a source of mixed meaning for me in
part because his life story is both inspiring and a cautionary tale. In his later years he grew deeply frustrated
and depressed, as he had devoted the entirety of his creative energy and
identity over a period of 15 years to a work that ultimately failed to draw
attention or support from the cultural establishment. He built this thriving community – in
which he stood at the center, the absolutely vital cog in the operation,
requiring his complete attention night and day – and yet he was positioned in the
shadows and stood in isolation from all the other members of the
community. Mr. Apology ultimately
remained an anonymous and brooding figure, an aloof and less than human
presence pulling the levers of the machine.
Not only that, but Allan never figured out a way to make the effort pay,
in practical terms, or to provide himself with a means of support to continue
with his work. The accident in which he
died was entirely avoidable except for the fact that something vital inside of
Allan very likely had already died – in a Pygmalion like way he ended up
becoming drawn in and consumed by his own creation.
That a faith-based practice of art can lead an artist towards
darkness as well as light is something I have struggled with myself in recent
years. The pursuit of a creative
practice may be an organizing principle for an individual artist but that
doesn’t mean the rest of the world (or any meaningful part of it) is going to
embrace the artist’s vision or work. Therein
lies a huge difference between what it means to engage in spiritual practice as
part of a sangha, where the religious
community you’re a member of is at least in theory there to provide succor and
support, in contrast to an artistic practice, where the artist really has no
organized community to provide the equivalent sort of reassurance or safety
net. Much more typically the artist must
forge a path forward in the face of indifference, struggling to navigate a path
towards personal truth, without running aground on the many surrounding dangers. The longer one pursues a
creative practice in isolation, the harder it becomes not to succumb to a sense
of despair.
This is a poem I wrote
several years ago with Mr. Apology’s work and ultimate fate very much in mind:
Ode to Truth
Poetry entails
A spiritual practice
If nothing else as
The accidental byproduct
Of the relentless pursuit
Of a full and fair description
Of simple but ineffable truths
A spiritual practice
If nothing else as
The accidental byproduct
Of the relentless pursuit
Of a full and fair description
Of simple but ineffable truths
Which may be found
In the oddest places
Quite unexpectedly and
By the most ironic of means
Though sadly it may end up
Cutting us most deeply
If we should fail to realize
In our admiring gaze
It’s a two-edged sword
We hold aloft in our hands
Whether or not Allan’s work ever receives the broader
recognition it richly deserves, the spirit of Apology lives on in countless
ways. I try to comfort myself with this
awareness when I consider the very limited audience I’ve been able to find for
my own writing over the last 15 years. Faith-based-art
possesses a real and practical power to move us forward in our lives, no matter
how an artist’s work is received in their
own place and time. And the message and
meaning of a creative practice may be passed on, from one person to another as
a form of living truth, no matter how high a price an individual artist ends up
paying for pursuing and cultivating the faith.
That being said, I remain incredibly grateful to family and
friends for every scrap of emotional support I am able to glean along the way. Qui
transtulit sustinet is the motto by which I try to operate, whether
translating Tang poetry or writing my own poems, from one day to the next.
* * * * *
This essay is an excerpt from my new book, still very much a work in progress, the working title of which is The Little Book of Nothing. Please click here and add your name to my mailing list if you are interesting in hearing more as this book progresses.
#mc_embed_signup{background:#fff; clear:left; font:14px Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; }
/* Add your own MailChimp form style overrides in your site stylesheet or in this style block.
We recommend moving this block and the preceding CSS link to the HEAD of your HTML file. */
No comments:
Post a Comment