Serendipity and a Grazing Addendum

Okay, so last night I didn’t state the most obvious linguistic connection between writing and breathing — inspiration, derived from French inspirer and Latin in+spirare, to breathe. It’s so darned obvious that I didn’t even think about it. Then this morning, using a few free minutes as I always do to click on a blog or online journal I haven’t seen in a while (it’s just not possible to keep pace with all of them all of the time), I stopped in at Speakeasy to see the Spring issue, clicked on an essay by Jim Heynen titled Faith in My Writing and found the following (emphasis added):

“…In faith, I wait for the gift of inspiration, the gift of an idea, the gift of an insight, the gift of the right word at the right time, even the gift of clarity. To be inspired means to breathe in the spirit. I can live with that notion of openness and receptivity. With faith, I wait for the gift, for what D. H. Lawrence called the wind that blows through us.
“Like most writers, I don’t know when that breath will come. I don’t even know if it will come unpolluted, free from depleted conventions and clichés. I can’t force inspiration. I can’t determine it (though I do have my little rituals), and when it does come it is like a gift that I hope will be worthy of readers.” (read the whole piece here)

If I believed in time warps and parallel universes and other such Star Trek realities, I would think that Heynen and I had been having a conversation, or that at least he had read my last night posting. But, being the pragmatic sort, I just believe that the universe I know is sending me a message. Especially when shortly thereafter I found myself reading an article about The Twin Cities in Publishers Weekly (June 6th) and see that the number one person on a list of leaders on the literary scene there is Linda Myers, longtime executive director of the Loft Literary Center. Significance? Speakeasy is a literary culture magazine published by The Loft. When all roads lead to Rome…

Grazing

I’ve been grazing on the pages of Bartlett’s Quotations and came across this from F. Scott Fitzgerald:

“All good writing is swimming under water and holding your breath.” (an undated letter)

When I think of swimming under water, which of course necessitates holding my breath, it evokes the sensation of a long journey, pushing through resistance to get to a destination where you can once again find some air. Engaging in this activty requires perserverence plus a measure of faith that your breath will be sufficient to get you there. Writing sometimes feels that way too.

On the other hand, I think there is a correlation between holding one’s breath and keeping strong emotions (especially the bad ones) at bay. Deflecting emotions such as sadness and pain might be useful as a survival tactic, but it can also lead to lackluster life and dreadfully dull prose. Quite simply, one must recognize pain in order to appreciate joy, let alone write about either. Or, as Alfred North Whitehead put it:

“Intellect is to emotion as our clothes are to our bodies; we could not very well have civilized life without clothes, but we would be in a poor way if we had only clothes without bodies.” (Dialogues of Alfred North Whitehead – ch 29, June 10, 1943)

Pages and Predilections

I was a precocious reader, and the days of Nancy Drew were short lived. At the age of twelve I was reading Heart of Darkness, Peer Gynt, The 50 Minute Hour, and The Secret Life of Walter Mitty – none of which made any lasting impression on me at all, but which I remember only for their shock value. My favorite books at the time were the historically based but fictionalized biographies such as Nicholas & Alexandra, The Agony and the Ecstasy, and Lust For Life.

In recent years nonfiction readings dominate, and lean heavily in two directions: biography or memoir, and books about writing. The latter category no longer outweighs the first, but I still have some favorites. It doesn’t matter if it’s about fiction or nonfiction, craft or creativity, I read it all; Word Painting by McClanahan, Follow the Story by Stewart, The Art of Creative Nonfiction by Gutkind, Story by McKee, Writing For Story by Franklin, and dozens more all share space on my bookshelf.

I read Marilyn French’s A Season in Hell while recovering from my own illness and was inspired by her resilience in the face of one disaster after another. If she could survive, then I could too. And with that reading I realized once again, and on a much more personal level, the power books have to truly touch the lives of readers. Then I read My Year Off, Robert McCrum’s memoir about recovering from a stroke. I didn’t identify as much with him, so I was better able to pay attention to the construction of his book and was intrigued by the way he was able to integrate his first person narrative with excerpts from his own diary as well as that of his wife.

I also like to read autobiographies by artists I admire. Isaac Stern: My First 79 Years written with Chaim Potok was magnificent! By the end of the book I felt as though Isaac were a close personal friend. I was working on my husband’s ‘autobiography’ then, and I kept trying to detect just how Potok was able to make Stern’s life so vivid. Then I slapped myself, realizing that I was comparing myself to Potok, a more experienced writer of many bestsellers, gave up trying to pinpoint “the answer,” and went back to writing it as I felt it. Sidney Poitier’s book, on the other hand, was a severe disappointment. This is a man who I have had the pleasure of talking with on several occasions, an eloquent and elegant man, and none of that came through on paper.

No one book has been so influential as to stand out from all the rest. Most often it is a single thought or a well-turned phrase that resonates for me, and I save up these snippets and store them away in a notebook to be rediscovered. When it comes to style, I revere the simple and succinct, especially when it is imaginative and unexpected. “At ten in the morning, heading out the front door, Mrs. Reed is a vision of vitality in slow motion.” That is one of my favorite sentences from Walt Harrington’s At the Heart of It: Ordinary People, Extraordinary Lives.

But I am also I am a sucker for elegant or poetic prose such as “O, what a world of unseen visions and heard silences, this insubstantial country of the mind! What ineffable essences, these touchless rememberings and unshowable reveries!…This consciousness that is myself of selves, that is everything, and yet nothing at all – what is it?” So begins The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind by Julian Jaynes.

Book End?

Do you finish reading every book you start? I have trouble giving up on a book, especially if I spent money to buy it. Sometimes, if I “can’t get into it,” I put it aside for awhile and try again later. Sometimes it’s just my mood, or level of concentration that makes reading difficult.
Sometimes, however, a book is simply not very good, or not meant for my tastes, and I should just give up. But all too often, a combination of guilt and the fear that I will miss something keeps me going.

“Most of us give up on people faster than books. Imagine you’re at a cocktail party and the first person you chat with turns out to be a stupendous bore. Do you keep talking to him for the next hour because you started with him? To the contrary, you suddenly develop a passionate interest in the spinach dip across the room and excuse yourself.
“Or consider wine tastings. Do we finish the whole bottle for each wine we sample? Tastings wouldn’t get very far if we did.”

That was from a piece by Steve Leveen. (Read the whole thing here.)

Still, my reading list continues to grow. A while back, I promised to compile a list of the books that fill the nooks in my bedroom, living room and office, patiently waiting for me to give them my attention. I have taken the short list I posted that day, added several more, and posted them here. (You can see the list anytime by clicking on Books Awaiting in the Pages box on the left side of your screen.)

Haven’t You Heard?

The New York Times ran a huge feature story about it last summer, it’s been tauted by a popular arts blogger (here and here and here), and the main stream press and wire services were abuzz about it after this year’s Grammy Awards. The “it” to which I refer is ArtistShare. ArtistShare is a new concept in Internet marketing and distribution, one that not only returns control to the artist, but also renders moot the fears of digital piracy. Mastermind Brian Camelio, sympathetic to the plight of his music friends, and tired of record companies bemoaning their losses, came up with the concept to empower the artists. As he explains it, “The answer is to market what cannot be pirated: the artist, the artist’s creation process, a fan’s love of an artist’s work. The fan is now part of the creation process, not the litigation process.”

Several jazz artists have now launched ArtistShare websites, among them Maria Schneider, Jim Hall, Jane Ira Bloom, Brian Lynch , and most recently, Bob Brookmeyer, to name only a few. In this model the customary end product, such as a CD or a copy of a music score, turns out to be a by-product, while the sharing of the artistic process becomes the primary product – a product that is experienced over time as it evolves. The behind-the-scenes exposure is provided by media events such as streaming audio and video clips of rehearsals and meetings, photo galleries showing the artist at work, perhaps a pdf peak at the first draft of a new score or an audio lecture analyzing a composition, and journal entries about the project’s progress. Another perk at certain levels is the participant acknowledgement – for example, the placement of the participant’s name in booklet accompanying a new CD.

Because participation in the process is now the product, what might have been viewed as pre-sales now becomes the source of funding for a project. By offering varying levels of participation, an artist can target specific groups of fans. For example, Jim Hall offers guitar lessons posted online for Player Participants, and both Maria Schneider and Bob Brookmeyer offer lessons and scores for Composer Participants. Whether you are an average listener, fellow composer or musician, an aspiring executive producer, or a jazz philanthropist, there is a particiation level for you. If you’re a true jazz fan and arts lover, you’ve got to check it out!

National Critics Conference: Musings Part 3 – Love For Sale

The second day of the conference was devoted to cross-disciplinary panels, and money was a consistent theme in both morning sessions as well as the luncheon.

The topic of the first panel was The Role of the Critic in Contemporary Society. Jack Miles, in considering journalism as the first draft of history, suggested we are historians. Coco Fusco advocated asking our readers to consider an issue, putting us in a more activist light. But whether we view ourselves as reviewers or critics, consumer reporters or upholder of standards, promoters or provocateurs, entertainers or educators, we all face some thorny issues, most of which relate in some way to what Coco referred to as “the economics of making a living.”

The vast majority of arts writers must supplement their income, if not with unrelated jobs, than at least with other kinds of writing assignments – other, that is, than criticism and journalism. All too often we are called upon to write press releases and feature stories that are full of hot air. Suppose you are a writer who, in the course of supplementing your income, is hired to write a cover story profiling of the director of a museum or concert hall, and suppose too that there are controversial issues relating to that museum or concert hall – do you

    1. write the puff piece for which you were hired and pay your bills,
    2. write the whole story, warts and all, and then pray for a kill fee (you know they won’t run the piece – even if they agree with you, they are looking for future advertising dollars), or
    3. turn down the assignment and let your answering machine talk to your creditors.

If you take option #1 you risk losing your credibility, #2 can get you blacklisted, and #3 can get you broke.

If it were a once-in-a-great-while kind of thing, it would be easier to say “take the high road.” (Can’t you hear your mother? “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything.”) But such scenarios are becoming not only more frequent, the lines are fuzzier and more imprecise. The panel on Ethical Traps explored some of the murkier waters. What happens when you are assigned to write a review and your editor is on the museum’s board of directors, or your editor happens to mention that The Publisher’s Wife is chairwoman of a charity fundraiser that is getting a percentage from the Fall season’s ticket sales? These are no-win situations because your motives will always be questioned. If you write a favorable review, people will wonder if you liked it, or didn’t but couldn’t say so. If you gave the show a bad review, somebody is bound to say that you were super-critical to avoid any appearances of favoritism.

Norman Lear’s exhortation from the preceding day’s keynote speech would have us provide “perspective on how truthfully and skillfully creative works are speaking to power.” How can we, when Power is our boss (or a major stockholder)? Our mission is imperiled by the ever-increasing privatization of culture. Corporate sponsorship and individual patronage is not new, but it’s become more insidious as the “patrons of the arts” demand more and more control of the arts, all the while laundering their money and polishing their image.

It has become more than simple patronage, there is big money to be made. Of course this money will not be going to the artists, or the writers. On the first tier, it’s all about real estate — think The Getty, Disney Concert Hall, Jazz at Lincoln Center, or Museum of Modern Art. On the second tier there are staffs to be hired: executive directors, artistic directors, curators and programmers, publicists and lawyers and accountants. Eli Broad, a man who created not one, but two Fortune 500 companies, made it clear when he gave his luncheon keynote address. By way of introducing Mr. Broad, let me quote from the Broad Foundation web site :

“Committed to the belief that all great cities need a vibrant center, Mr. Broad is currently leading the effort to turn Los Angeles’ Grand Avenue into a truly “grand avenue,” to rival the main boulevards of the world’s greatest cities.”

Broad rattled off statistics – 2200 Los Angeles-based visual and performing arts organizations, 105 museums, four of the best art schools, 705 musical groups, 220 theater companies, 60 film festivals… His point? Cultural tourists spend more money, stay longer, and visit more frequently than business travelers. Broad took some questions from the floor, but his answers were deflective. I guess he thought that arts writers would be thrilled to have more to cover. Our point? If you’re going to fund more art institutions, you had better fund some media coverage of the arts as well.

By the way, not all Angelenos think Broad’s Grand Plan is such a good idea. In today’s Los Angeles Times, Joel Kotkin, an Irvine senior fellow at the New America Foundation, and author of “The City: A Global History,” opened his commentary with these words:

The $1.8-billion proposal to redevelop Grand Avenue represents the latest in a series of ill-conceived schemes to revive downtown Los Angeles, and former Mayor Richard Riordan was absolutely right when he recently called it “a bunch of baloney” whose main effect will be “rich guys getting richer.”

This brings me right back to the morning’s questions:

  • What is our role as arts writers? To give voice, shed light, and draw attention.
  • How do we navigate the murky waters to make an honest and ethical living practicing our craft? As best we can, with integrity, transparency, and full disclosure.
  • Can art speak to power? Absolutely.
  • Can arts writers speak to power? We have to.
  • National Critics Conference: Musings Part 2 – An Upbeat Attitude

    I sent him a private email, but I want to take this opportunity to thank Los Angeles Times jazz writer Don Heckman publicly for the tone and direction he set when moderating the “Jazz L.A.: The View from the West Coast” panel at the National Critics Conference. It is so easy to succumb to the lure of carping about the downside – whether about the lack of jazz in LA, or the lack of jazz coverage in the media, or even the diminishment of critical thought in the media – but he took the high road and enabled us all to focus on the positives. AllAboutJazz Editor Fred Jung spoke of the terrific mentoring that Los Angeles artists are doing with aspiring musicians. (By the way, this is something that the Jazz Journalists Association has recently begun doing with aspiring jazz writers). Titus Levi, a jazz economist* working at the Center for Cultural Innovation, pointed out that the isolationism caused by the geographic spread of Los Angeles has an upside – it breeds heightened identity and stronger networking. Another often lamented issue is the relative non-existence of jazz icons today; if that is true, Don suggested viewing it as an opportunity rather than a problem. His message (not verbatim) was clear: jazz is in a period of great opportunity – we should have an upbeat attitude and encourage our audiences.

    *I’ve never heard of, let alone met, a jazz economist? I plan to talk more with Titus later this summer, and will report back.

    Minor Reorganization

    It’s amazing how voluminous a blog can become, and how correspondingly difficult to navigate if you do not visit every day. Knowing that my postings touch on a variety of subjects, and understanding that many of you are unable to check in daily, I have tweaked the categories a little to make it easier for you to stop by whenever, and narrow your focus if you so desire. Personally, when reading the blogs of others, I enjoy the serendipity of seeing things I would not have thought to look for, but I know that sometimes we just don’t have time to take in everything.

    Every posting is assigned to a category (under the title and date you will see Filed under:…), and most postings will reflect more than one category. For example, my writing life often involves my reading life, and sometimes the books I mention may be about music. If you do not want to browse down the opening page (which is, of course, in reverse chronological sequence) you can limit the display by clicking on a category in the blue box on the left side of your screen.

    So the categories are:
    Announcements – general info, such as this very posting
    Boos & Bravos – (used to be called Rants & Raves) While this might include reviews of products and performances, most often it is an expression of my displeasure or delight in a particular event or experience
    Date Specific – subjects pegged to a particular date, be it a birthday, anniversary, ….
    Hmmm – subjects on my mind, and food for thought
    I’m All Ears – (used to be called Sensitive Ears) has something to do with music
    Jazz Ears – relates specifically to jazz
    Notables– about people
    Reading Life – thoughts, quotes, lists, and occassional recomendations, as well as comments about the kind of writing that I like to read
    This ‘n’ That – doings and other items that don’t seem to fit elsewhere
    Word Play – anagrams, word derrivations, and such
    Writing Life – my own thoughts, activities and experiences as a writer, plus thoughts (my own and others) about writers and writing

    And don’t forget I’ve Got Mail, which will cease to exist if you don’t drop me a line. Send it to: devra AT devradowrite.com

    National Critics Conference: Musings Part 1

    Last week The American Theatre Critics Association, The Dance Critics Association, The International Association of Art Critics, Music Critics Association of North America, and the Jazz Journalists Association held a joint conference in Los Angeles to discuss the state of arts coverage today. My first two lasting impressions from the conference both resonate around my love of narrative journalism. I know this was a conference of Critics, but, despite my being an opinionated soul, I have never defined myself as a critic. And although I was attending the conference as a card-carrying member of the Jazz Journalists Association, I don’t often call myself a jazz journalist either. I am happiest as a writer of true stories — narratives.

    Norman Lear gave the opening keynote speech, and even though it was full of the expected humor and political barbs, his message was serious. He bemoaned our society for “celebrating success regardless of quality;” contrasted Power, which “aims to anesthetize and retain,” with Art, which “aims to probe and startle;” and exhorted us “to give [our audiences] some perspective on how truthfully and skillfully creative works are speaking to power.” He spoke of artworks as the means by which artists “declare [their] individuality while affirming that [they] all belong to a larger family of man,” and he wants us to help our readers “recover a sense of emotional and moral complexity in human affairs.” This was a call to arms perfectly suited to a narrative journalist.

    Prior to Lear’s keynote speech there was a warm-up panel during which Sasha Anawalt, Director of the USC Annenberg Getty Fellowship Program in Los Angeles, said ‘Go inside the world – don’t be afraid of losing yourself.” To this I would like to add, “And bring the reader with you.” Critics who have a tendency to analyze and judge from a distance, to remain outside of, if not above, the art world in question, miss out on so much of the story while protecting their analytic objectivity. As a reader, I love writing that provides a window on a world with which I am not familiar, and I can relate more deeply to narratives that show me that world rather than tell me about it. In crafting such a piece, a writer can only benefit from behind-the-scenes explorations and getting up close and personal with the artists. To circle back to Lear, narrative is the best way I know to explore “moral complexity in human affairs.”