creativity

"Wabi and Sabi: the Aesthetics of Solitude"

Article, House of Solitude, Hermitary

Nearly all the arts in historical China and Japan derive their aesthetic principles from Taoism and Zen Buddhism. The two great philosophical traditions proved compatible specifically with the culture and psychology of Japan. The hallmark of a Chinese or Japanese masterpiece free of modern influence continues to be the naturalness and uncontrived, even "accidental" appearance of the work. The artist works with and harmonizes nature and its universal accidents. The guiding principles are wabi and sabi.

Scott Timberg writes in the Guardian of the influence of Ursula K. Le Guin on modern authors, especially in the way she has help to wean her long-time readers from a "puritanical distrust of imagination." Now there's a pied piper to whom I'd gladly pay attention. :)

"How Ursula K Le Guin led a generation away from realism"

Whatever direct impact Cromwell and the Puritans had on the British Isles, it was, I'll wager, more temporary than their effect on the US. The country Le Guin and I were born into was founded by Puritans, not by tragic Celts or misty Arthurian heroes, and it will take centuries more to get them entirely out of our system. Le Guin addresses this sensibility in her 1974 essay, Why Are Americans Afraid of Dragons? As she points out, "in the old, truly Puritan days, the only permitted reading was the Bible," and today, she writes, many Americans, especially men, "have learned to repress their imagination, to reject it as something childish or effeminate, unprofitable, and probably sinful".

One year ago today, I wished Ray Bradbury (along with Dorothy Parker) a Happy Birthday. On October 2nd last year, Ray went to San Bernardino to speak to fans of his work at an event organized by the San Bernardino Public Library. It was originally going to be at the Feldheym Central Library downtown, but due to high demand wound up being moved to the Sturges Center for the Fine Arts down the road.

I managed to score a stand-by ticket, meaning I might or might not get in, depending on available seating. So I went to the theater, not knowing whether I'd get in, although any overflow would still be able to watch the event on projected television outside.

Dozens, seemingly hundreds of people queued up and went inside while I and others in the stand-by line stood by.

But luck was with me. I got inside. Brief remarks by various functionaries, including, if I recall, the mayor of San Bernardino. Soon enough, Mr. Bradbury came out, the lights dimmed, and he began telling stories.

The talk was the culmination of a community reading of Fahrenheit 451, a favorite of librarians and readers for over 50 years now (and yours truly for that matter), so he spoke of writing the book, of becoming a writer, of creativity. Much of what he talked about I remember reading in various books of his, but to hear it from him in person, not to mention witnessing other people hearing him, was truly a magical experience.

It had been announced that Mr. Bradbury would be signing autographs for whomever wished it, for as long as he could. Given his infirmity and age, I was frankly surprised he was going to attempt it at all.

Since virtually the entire auditorium wished it, two great queues of people formed going down both aisles of the theater; they got things a bit organized, taking a handful of people from each line, alternating back and forth. So there was this slow advancement, as the crowds watched the lucky ones at the beginning get their copies of 451 signed.

It took a long time to get to the front of the auditorium, then around to the side and up to the stage. Over the next hour or so, I texted Denyse a few times to update her on the progress.

As I finally got closer I could hear fans telling Mr. Bradbury various things as he signed, getting photographs with him. He took the time to acknowledge every one of them, especially the kids, shaking hands, replying graciously, and always signing, signing, signing. Scores of people went before me, but he was still going strong by the time I reached the stage.

I'd been running over and over in my head, anxious as can be, what I wanted to say to him.

It isn't every day you meet one of your heroes. What are you supposed to say?

How are you supposed to encapsulate decades of joy and profound influence into 15 seconds of prattle? How do you summarize how much he influenced you, both to become a writer and to keep writing?

I handed my copy of Dandelion Wine to the attendant (in my nervous haste to get there, the only volume among the several of his books I own that I could find) and snapped the above picture. I told him hello, which he returned as he smoothed the book out to sign.

What did I say to him as we shook hands afterwards?

"Thank you so much, sir, for everything."

He brought his other hand on top of mine, "Thank you," he said with heartfelt emotion. "Thank you."

As I left the theater, he was still at it with dozens of people waiting their turn.

I'll bet he got through every last one of them.

Ever since, I had intended to pick out a few of the pictures, write a few things, and post this very entry. But whenever I came to do it, I just couldn't. I'm not sure why.

I think it was a version of that sense of profundity I mentioned earlier. The moment was too special to grasp quite yet. Months passed.

Then on my calendar this week I noticed it was again Mr. Bradbury's (and Mrs. Parker's) birthday on the 22nd. A perfect moment.

So, on this August 22nd, Happy Birthday to Ray Bradbury!

Thank you so much, sir, for everything.

It's always weird to see the mainstream press picking up on a subculture. Kind of like when your parents drop the latest slang: it doesn't quite feel right. Nevertheless, it's nice to see Steampunk get some respectful publicity.

The LA Times blog Jacket Copy had a post Saturday from Nick Owchar, the inevitably titled "Working up a head of steam".

Steampunk is another entry point into the Victorian era by way of a wormhole: a subculture movement that is the result of an "intersection of technology and romance," as it was reported in some East Coast newspaper this week. Philip Pullman's alternate version of the world--with zeppelins, golden compasses and anbaric-powered gadgets--in "His Dark Materials" taps into it; so do the stories of Jules Verne and the movie "Brazil"; William Gibson and Bruce Sterling's "The Difference Engine" anticipated it.[...]

According to Owchar, there's a new Steampunk anthology from Tachyon that looks interesting.

The "some East Coast newspaper" referred to is the NY Times and its more sedately titled article "Steampunk Moves Between 2 Worlds", which does more tracing of how Steampunk has been embraced by various groups for various purposes, but all in good, artistically spiffy fun:

It is also the vision of steampunk, a subculture that is the aesthetic expression of a time-traveling fantasy world, one that embraces music, film, design and now fashion, all inspired by the extravagantly inventive age of dirigibles and steam locomotives, brass diving bells and jar-shaped protosubmarines. First appearing in the late 1980s and early ’90s, steampunk has picked up momentum in recent months, making a transition from what used to be mainly a literary taste to a Web-propagated way of life.

To some, “steampunk” is a catchall term, a concept in search of a visual identity. “To me, it’s essentially the intersection of technology and romance,” said Jake von Slatt, a designer in Boston and the proprietor of the Steampunk Workshop (steampunkworkshop.com), where he exhibits such curiosities as a computer furnished with a brass-frame monitor and vintage typewriter keys.

Currently in production...

GET LAMP is a documentary about Text Adventures (later Interactive Fiction), the storytellers who created them, and their unique place in the history of computer games.

Larger version of trailer here.

(Seen on MetaFilter.)

Samuel Langhorne Clemens was born on this date in 1835, and the world is a better place for it having happened.

Casting about for an appropriate passage of his to share, I came across this one from The Innocents Abroad which seems applicable to bloggers everywhere....

At certain periods it becomes the dearest ambition of a man to keep a faithful record of his performances in a book; and he dashes at this work with an enthusiasm that imposes on him the notion that keeping a journal is the veriest pastime in the world, and the pleasantest. But if he only lives twenty-one days, he will find out that only those rare natures that are made up of pluck, endurance, devotion to duty for duty's sake, and invincible determination, may hope to venture upon so tremendous an enterprise as the keeping of a journal and not sustain a shameful defeat.

This picture, by the way, is of Mark Twain in Nikola Tesla's lab in 1894, which I came across on Wikipedia.

If you're casting about for something to read, take a gander at Mark Twain's works at Project Gutenberg.

A couple of other blogs mentioned the birthday this morning:

• Movie Morlocks has "Always the Twain" covering Mark Twain and Hollywood.
• World Hum posted "Happy Birthday, Mark Twain and Jonathan Swift", (it's Swift's birthday as well) mentioning they were "creators of the World Hum’s No. 7 and No. 6 greatest fictional travelers respectively..."

Speaking of birthdays, yesterday was the 80th birthday of Vin Scully.

Happy Birthday to a couple of my very favorite writers!

Dorothy Parker was born on this day in 1893, and while she is most remembered for her days with the Round Table in New York, she spent a number of years in Hollywood as a screenwriter (IMDB). She passed away in 1967.

I'm never going to accomplish anything; that's perfectly clear to me. I'm never going to be famous. My name will never be writ large on the roster of Those Who Do Things. I don't do anything. Not one single thing. I used to bite my nails, but I don't even do that any more.

And yes, you might as well live.

Ray Bradbury, also born on 8/22, but in 1920. (Funny to think of Mrs Parker at 27 when he was born, being fired by Vanity Fair for offending people.) A while back I wrote about Ray:

[He] is the ghost in the machine. He finds the soul in the rocket, traces the life in the Martian colony, points out the demons lurking in the fires of a burning book.

Always one to tweak the nose of too-serious folks, Ray has recently been talking about what Fahrenheit 451 really means. Some people have gotten a little pissy about it, which says more about them than Bradbury. And that's kind of the point.

Living nearly a century and writing some of the best literature in the world gives you a smidgen of latitude. ;)