As Roy looked down from the cliffs, he saw a man drawing on the sands of the beach. He peered closely to take a look at the image and his heart jumped a beat as he viewed the emerging drawing that showed multiples angles of an extraordinary face. It seemed like a Picasso! He lifted the binoculars to his eyes and he was dazed as if he was in a dream, for the man drawing on the beach was Picasso himself! He was painfully aware that the high tides of the beach would soon erase an original Picasso and his thoughts were racing to find some means to preserve the work of art. Well, he couldn't try to hold back the sea, nor could he try to save all the sand holding the drawing. He could perhaps run home and fetch a camera to record the picture, which would anyway just be a record copy and not the original. But if he did try to run home, he would never make it in time to save the work from the waves. Perhaps the only thing he could do was to enjoy the experience of the work of a magnificent piece of art from the master himself. Yet, Roy had mixed feelings and didn't know whether to smile or cry (Source: "In a Season of Calm Weather" by Ray Bradbury)
It's obvious from the excerpt that this is not exactly a puzzle to be solved; there isn't really a solution to Ray's dilemma. I guess the essence of this hypothetical scenario is to reflect on our views on art, the immortality we tend to associate to visual arts, and probably how the spirit and essence of participating/experiencing art is often overridden by the materialistic significance attached to the physical form of art.
Is it trivial of us humans to try and preserve Art? If Michelangelo's, Picasso's, Monet's works were not preserved, wouldn't our generation be deprived of reveling in their splendor? If Beethoven's, Mozart's and Bach's musical notes were never recorded, I would acknowledge that it is indeed a loss. But at some level, is the real spirit of the original piece lost when there are reproductions of these master pieces? There can be millions of color prints of Monet's paintings, but none of those come close to the actual piece, or is it really so? Is our intent behind preserving master pieces a vain attempt to immortalize the artist and the work, in a denial to acknowledge our own mortality, and the inevitable mortality of the physical form of art?
I've always seen the preservation/restoration of Art as one way of passing on a rich heritage and culture to the future generations. Art evokes sensory and spiritual pleasures and it seems quite reasonable for us to want to cherish the sensory treats and expose the next generation to those. So in that regard, was it a tragedy that Ray could not find a way to preserve the Picasso on the beach? It is indeed a loss for millions of art enthusiasts and future generations, but what Ray experienced is priceless in comparison to the loss. Ray not only got to view a masterpiece, he was also privileged to experience it's creation. The Native Americans believe that a part of our soul and spirit fuses into our creations. In that sense, Ray participated in the creation of the art work, thereby experiencing a level of spiritual and visual treat incomparable to just viewing the physical proof of the work.
I've always craved to see an artist at work; observing a painter from their very first stroke, a composer humming the very first set of notes to weave together a musical piece, even a cook starting from the very first ingredient... experiencing creativity is something subliminally beautiful and awe inspiring....at least to me. Another aspect which is special about visual arts is our perception that the significance of their portrayal is immortalized, coagulated in time. Is it an attempt to not acknowledge our mortality? Well, I feel it is our acknowledgment of mortality that creates a sense of awe on the art piece that was not only present before our lives, but will probably be so, even after the end of our lives.
The following beautiful lines from John Keats' immortal poem, Ode on the Grecian Urn is what comes to mind.
".....
It's obvious from the excerpt that this is not exactly a puzzle to be solved; there isn't really a solution to Ray's dilemma. I guess the essence of this hypothetical scenario is to reflect on our views on art, the immortality we tend to associate to visual arts, and probably how the spirit and essence of participating/experiencing art is often overridden by the materialistic significance attached to the physical form of art.
Is it trivial of us humans to try and preserve Art? If Michelangelo's, Picasso's, Monet's works were not preserved, wouldn't our generation be deprived of reveling in their splendor? If Beethoven's, Mozart's and Bach's musical notes were never recorded, I would acknowledge that it is indeed a loss. But at some level, is the real spirit of the original piece lost when there are reproductions of these master pieces? There can be millions of color prints of Monet's paintings, but none of those come close to the actual piece, or is it really so? Is our intent behind preserving master pieces a vain attempt to immortalize the artist and the work, in a denial to acknowledge our own mortality, and the inevitable mortality of the physical form of art?
I've always seen the preservation/restoration of Art as one way of passing on a rich heritage and culture to the future generations. Art evokes sensory and spiritual pleasures and it seems quite reasonable for us to want to cherish the sensory treats and expose the next generation to those. So in that regard, was it a tragedy that Ray could not find a way to preserve the Picasso on the beach? It is indeed a loss for millions of art enthusiasts and future generations, but what Ray experienced is priceless in comparison to the loss. Ray not only got to view a masterpiece, he was also privileged to experience it's creation. The Native Americans believe that a part of our soul and spirit fuses into our creations. In that sense, Ray participated in the creation of the art work, thereby experiencing a level of spiritual and visual treat incomparable to just viewing the physical proof of the work.
I've always craved to see an artist at work; observing a painter from their very first stroke, a composer humming the very first set of notes to weave together a musical piece, even a cook starting from the very first ingredient... experiencing creativity is something subliminally beautiful and awe inspiring....at least to me. Another aspect which is special about visual arts is our perception that the significance of their portrayal is immortalized, coagulated in time. Is it an attempt to not acknowledge our mortality? Well, I feel it is our acknowledgment of mortality that creates a sense of awe on the art piece that was not only present before our lives, but will probably be so, even after the end of our lives.
The following beautiful lines from John Keats' immortal poem, Ode on the Grecian Urn is what comes to mind.
".....
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave | ||||||||||
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; | ||||||||||
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, | ||||||||||
Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve; | ||||||||||
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, | ||||||||||
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
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