Work of Art Week Four
OK, so this post is late. Sue me, it's the damn holidays, and it has been hotter than hell here in Maine this past week.
So this week's challenge on Work of Art was Shock Art. For one, the episode was great, featuring Andres Serrano (of "Piss Christ" fame). Seeing some of the artists really trying to take chances with their art was really interesting. As an artist, it is always fun to try to push my own personal envelope, like I did with pieces like "The Fire Sermon" or "Seven Scenes for Darkened Stage". Considering that 80% of my work is squarely post-romantic, 19% of it is modernistic, the 1% of the time that I really let myself get a littel nutty is really fun. In fact, I have been thinking about what I am going to do to lead off my Master's Recital. Yeah, you know, that concert that I am going to do in two years? Anyway, I digress.
Shock Art. Right.
The other members of the cadre of artists that I am working with really did some awesome pieces. I thought that Becky Cochrane's piece on Diabetes was really interesting, and that Sean Kramer's piece was also really, really intriguing. You can click here to view them all (they are not protected, but heed the warning at the beginning). Some of you may not find all of them all that shocking, however, but let me tell you that as an artist, trying to shock people really isn't all that easy. What I find shocking, my audience may not and that rule is surprisingly applicable vice-versa. If you aren't shocked per se, be intrigued by the process.
I also really liked, and found that I had it far easier than most because of this, that so many of the people put themselves directly into their art. That is something that has to be commended. Art for me, at least, represents some dark psyche that boils and churns and bubbles and gets regurgitated out to the masses, leaving me exhausted in its wake. But I am also not seen in it, necessarily, or at least not directly. Those who know me may see me in, for example, the Piano Concerto, but only in some abstract way, I think. These folks put themselves into their art visually, took their weaknesses, their own personal prisons, and splayed them out on the walls for all to see. All true "Here I am" moments. I wonder how I would write myself, if I had to? I wonder what personal torment I would show? Would others understand it?
On to my piece, Lakehurst. Pretty simple, really, this time. I have always been fascinated by the explosion of the Hindenburg. The radio call, the famed radio call featuring the often parodied but chilling call "Oh, the Humanity!", is an epic piece to experience. I prefer experiencing it without the video, you really get a sense of what he is going through by closing your eyes and letting the lush description of the events pour over you. I have always wanted to do SOMETHING with this, and while at first I had thought of doing another setting of an "extreme" poem*, I opted instead to pull this radio call out and fulfill this project. I hope you enjoy it!
So this week's challenge on Work of Art was Shock Art. For one, the episode was great, featuring Andres Serrano (of "Piss Christ" fame). Seeing some of the artists really trying to take chances with their art was really interesting. As an artist, it is always fun to try to push my own personal envelope, like I did with pieces like "The Fire Sermon" or "Seven Scenes for Darkened Stage". Considering that 80% of my work is squarely post-romantic, 19% of it is modernistic, the 1% of the time that I really let myself get a littel nutty is really fun. In fact, I have been thinking about what I am going to do to lead off my Master's Recital. Yeah, you know, that concert that I am going to do in two years? Anyway, I digress.
Shock Art. Right.
The other members of the cadre of artists that I am working with really did some awesome pieces. I thought that Becky Cochrane's piece on Diabetes was really interesting, and that Sean Kramer's piece was also really, really intriguing. You can click here to view them all (they are not protected, but heed the warning at the beginning). Some of you may not find all of them all that shocking, however, but let me tell you that as an artist, trying to shock people really isn't all that easy. What I find shocking, my audience may not and that rule is surprisingly applicable vice-versa. If you aren't shocked per se, be intrigued by the process.
I also really liked, and found that I had it far easier than most because of this, that so many of the people put themselves directly into their art. That is something that has to be commended. Art for me, at least, represents some dark psyche that boils and churns and bubbles and gets regurgitated out to the masses, leaving me exhausted in its wake. But I am also not seen in it, necessarily, or at least not directly. Those who know me may see me in, for example, the Piano Concerto, but only in some abstract way, I think. These folks put themselves into their art visually, took their weaknesses, their own personal prisons, and splayed them out on the walls for all to see. All true "Here I am" moments. I wonder how I would write myself, if I had to? I wonder what personal torment I would show? Would others understand it?
On to my piece, Lakehurst. Pretty simple, really, this time. I have always been fascinated by the explosion of the Hindenburg. The radio call, the famed radio call featuring the often parodied but chilling call "Oh, the Humanity!", is an epic piece to experience. I prefer experiencing it without the video, you really get a sense of what he is going through by closing your eyes and letting the lush description of the events pour over you. I have always wanted to do SOMETHING with this, and while at first I had thought of doing another setting of an "extreme" poem*, I opted instead to pull this radio call out and fulfill this project. I hope you enjoy it!