Bang! Bang! Bang! Then all grew silent.
The silver shone in the darkened ally.
Only sounds of footsteps echoing
eerily off the old brick walls.
The silver shone in the darkened ally.
Red and blue lights flickering
eerily off the old brick walls.
Cries and murmurs in the background.
Red and blue lights flickering
through the cold and dampened streets.
Cries and murmurs in the background
trailing off in the distance.
Through the cold and dampened streets
sirens scream over memories that are
trailing off in the distance.
The feeling of fear and a violent flash.
Sirens scream over memories that are
only sounds of footsteps echoing.
The feeling of fear and a violent flash.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Then all grew silent.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
P.o-T(r)>Y
Houseman is an individual smitten by poetry. His love and seemingly profound understanding for what he feels cannot be simply understood is wondrous. Where so many people search for meaning in so many aspects - life, the universe, a book, a film - he understands that poetry is something that exists without any meaning at all. There doesn't have to be an overall message to "get", nor does a poem have to convey some sort of thought or story. Poetry is a delicately written line (or lines) of words that are beautifully aesthetic and often times emotionally evoking.
Most of the examples Houseman provides in his writing are beautiful lines of poetry for certain, but any kind of coherent structure of thought is mostly void. There is some sort of ideal that the poem was born out of, but it is not fully drawn out and nor should it have to be.
Houseman delights in explaining his means of creating poetry. He describes his long walks (at times slightly intoxicated) where he lets his mind run. He talks of how he'll write incomplete pieces of an overall work down at a time with the hope that a stroll around the park the next day may finish and fill the gaps. He looks for inspiration in his thoughts and emotions simply as they are. He doesn't force the likes of poetry into existence, but waits for it to crawl into his mind and out through his fingers.
To Houseman, true poetry is emotional. One should have an incredibly strong reaction to a true poetical work. It should be felt in the pit of your stomach, and make your skin crawl and hair stand on end. It just not be understood, but must be felt.
The selections picked from A Poetry Handbook were quite wonderful insights to the creation of poetical pieces. What I found most interesting was the parallels these instructions had with that of acting. Specifically in Oliver's section of "Imitation" I couldn't help but smile as she pointed out the necessity and helpfulness to imitate great work and use it, learn it, work it, until we are able to come from it with something new and unique to ourselves. Every acting coach, teacher, director, etc will tell you to steal from the greats. If you see an actor do something interesting or unique, use it yourself! That individual was only ever able to come to that creative decision after using another's work themselves. And perhaps "stealing" is the wrong term, and would be more appropriately replaced with "borrowing".
Oliver is very straightforward and simple in her description of learning how to write poetry - one must write. You cannot learn how to write good works without picking up a writing utensil and scribbling some mash of words to a page. To really understand poetry one needs to read it, and imitate what they find in great works, and discover a unique voice for themselves through that process.
As one continues to read and write, one will discover the aesthetics of sounds in words, and will be able to make proper choices in combination and structure of sentences that will create beautiful lines of poetry. The last segment in the selected pieces dealt completely with the structure of words, how the beginning and end consonants or vowels hit by themselves or off another word, and how these sounds create an atmosphere and flowing piece. I would agree with anyone who says she goes a bit too far into detail in regards to dissecting the sounds of words and their placement in a piece; however, the fact that she is able to means there is something there when considering a great poet like Robert Frost. Once you begin writing, you'll discover an ear for words and find those that work and those that don't based on the circumstances. One need not worry themselves over such a thing - it comes with practice.
Most of the examples Houseman provides in his writing are beautiful lines of poetry for certain, but any kind of coherent structure of thought is mostly void. There is some sort of ideal that the poem was born out of, but it is not fully drawn out and nor should it have to be.
Houseman delights in explaining his means of creating poetry. He describes his long walks (at times slightly intoxicated) where he lets his mind run. He talks of how he'll write incomplete pieces of an overall work down at a time with the hope that a stroll around the park the next day may finish and fill the gaps. He looks for inspiration in his thoughts and emotions simply as they are. He doesn't force the likes of poetry into existence, but waits for it to crawl into his mind and out through his fingers.
To Houseman, true poetry is emotional. One should have an incredibly strong reaction to a true poetical work. It should be felt in the pit of your stomach, and make your skin crawl and hair stand on end. It just not be understood, but must be felt.
The selections picked from A Poetry Handbook were quite wonderful insights to the creation of poetical pieces. What I found most interesting was the parallels these instructions had with that of acting. Specifically in Oliver's section of "Imitation" I couldn't help but smile as she pointed out the necessity and helpfulness to imitate great work and use it, learn it, work it, until we are able to come from it with something new and unique to ourselves. Every acting coach, teacher, director, etc will tell you to steal from the greats. If you see an actor do something interesting or unique, use it yourself! That individual was only ever able to come to that creative decision after using another's work themselves. And perhaps "stealing" is the wrong term, and would be more appropriately replaced with "borrowing".
Oliver is very straightforward and simple in her description of learning how to write poetry - one must write. You cannot learn how to write good works without picking up a writing utensil and scribbling some mash of words to a page. To really understand poetry one needs to read it, and imitate what they find in great works, and discover a unique voice for themselves through that process.
As one continues to read and write, one will discover the aesthetics of sounds in words, and will be able to make proper choices in combination and structure of sentences that will create beautiful lines of poetry. The last segment in the selected pieces dealt completely with the structure of words, how the beginning and end consonants or vowels hit by themselves or off another word, and how these sounds create an atmosphere and flowing piece. I would agree with anyone who says she goes a bit too far into detail in regards to dissecting the sounds of words and their placement in a piece; however, the fact that she is able to means there is something there when considering a great poet like Robert Frost. Once you begin writing, you'll discover an ear for words and find those that work and those that don't based on the circumstances. One need not worry themselves over such a thing - it comes with practice.
Friday, January 21, 2011
The Art Show
There was only time for me to see the Oak Room Gallery with my ridiculous schedule. I'm even writing this in another class...don't tell anyone!
The images in the Oak Room Gallery were rich, beautiful, and emotional. The stench, and sweat, and overall rough nature of this existence soured out of the images and into my imagination. As I traveled counter-clockwise around the room I sank deeper and deeper into the heaps of trash. I was engrossed in the imagery, but couldn't wait to get out. I was drawn into the shots of children making their own rounds to sort the ever growing trash land. It was overwhelming and incredibly powerful. The one image that sticks out most in my mind, even now, is the small child in the distance who looked like he was almost dancing, while garbage and fire smoldered in the foreground.
It was incredible to see these people literally living in this dump, with cardboard houses and whatever else they could use to create some sort of shelter. It was deeply saddening, yet a sense of impeccable hope filled my heart knowing these people were actually able to survive under such circumstances. Wow.
I'm hoping to see the other gallery this weekend, especially considering my production is a big part of the "People at Work" theme the campus is putting on.
The images in the Oak Room Gallery were rich, beautiful, and emotional. The stench, and sweat, and overall rough nature of this existence soured out of the images and into my imagination. As I traveled counter-clockwise around the room I sank deeper and deeper into the heaps of trash. I was engrossed in the imagery, but couldn't wait to get out. I was drawn into the shots of children making their own rounds to sort the ever growing trash land. It was overwhelming and incredibly powerful. The one image that sticks out most in my mind, even now, is the small child in the distance who looked like he was almost dancing, while garbage and fire smoldered in the foreground.
It was incredible to see these people literally living in this dump, with cardboard houses and whatever else they could use to create some sort of shelter. It was deeply saddening, yet a sense of impeccable hope filled my heart knowing these people were actually able to survive under such circumstances. Wow.
I'm hoping to see the other gallery this weekend, especially considering my production is a big part of the "People at Work" theme the campus is putting on.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Covered Bridges & The Woman Who Lost Her Names
At first I must admit a certain amount of jealousy towards the narrator/writer/what have you of the short story Covered Bridges. His life, and love for his wife, seems to incredibly pure and perfect. The relationship housed between this couple is something I pray for each day. This story gave such a lightness to my heart, while also keeping a heavy grip. Is that heaviness felt, I pondered, in regards to the fact I don't (as of yet) have a relationship like I had read about; or, was I simply weighed down by the pure truth of such love shared here. I'll admit that on Lena's action of spitting out a hornet, I sank and whispered a thought, "oh shit..." like I too had everything to lose in that moment.
I only gave a few moments thought towards the title given to this piece, thinking that obviously their tour of the bridges wasn't substantial enough to label the story as a whole. But in that few moments I realized what symbolism a covered bridge can house. A bridge is something that helps one achieve the task of passing from one location to another. Without a bridge, it is not possible to walk across a rushing river without getting wet, or crossing a canyon without falling far below. In life we have bridges that arise before us, helping us travel to the next moment in our lives. High school, for example, is a bridge that leads us to a number of destinations; whether it is to college or an immediate start to a career.
The image of a covered bridge has me thinking of an individual crossing a bridge, but unable to see the location around him. The bridge is covered in each direction, walls and ceiling. The individual only sees that the bridge comes to an end before him, but where exactly is not necessarily known for sure. This is a metaphor for crossing bridges in life, that lead to places one cannot be quite sure of. Like the story, the couple decides whether or not to cross the bridge into child bearing. As they cross that bridge, they discuss back and forth the pros and cons of such an act, not knowing if they're going to reach that destination or not. It isn't until they come off that bridge that they realize their destination is not filled with the soul of a new born.
This story grabbed my attention, and whether it be the writing or the story's fault for this, I cannot be sure. I was interested to continue reading, and never got sidetracked or bored at any point during. I felt I had learned so much of these people's lives, and began to feel like I belonged with them. The man's love for his wife passed on to me, and I began to see her beauty and perfection. I connected, simple as that. When one can do that in a story, a film, or what have you, it is such an incredibly power thing.
--------
Where the previous story held me strong with thought and emotion, The Woman Who Lost Her Names left me simply confused and indifferent. The ending line of the story holds so much power and strength, yet I'm not quite sure the significance of it's being.
The story follows a girl who grows to a woman, who is given new names several times in her life. The name being a very important part of passing on the family through generations. Her mother speaks of others marrying for money and changing their names, ridding themselves of their birthrights. And Sarah meets her cousin who's name was changed, saying that the name is nothing as the soul underneath is the same. There are contradictions in the belief of the necessity of a name and it's importance in continuing a line of family.
Sarah's name is changed so for her marriage, and in the end the couple disputes over the name of their new born daughter. Sarah has a name picked out, but her husband says she should be named after her mother. Sarah tells her that her mother will understand and it must be the name she chose. Eventually she raises her voice and reads from her bible so her husband understands that he is trying to name their daughter after a rape.
I don't quite understand the significance of this story, and it's possibly due to culture differences in myself and the characters of the story. Perhaps a discussion in class will help straighten things out.
I only gave a few moments thought towards the title given to this piece, thinking that obviously their tour of the bridges wasn't substantial enough to label the story as a whole. But in that few moments I realized what symbolism a covered bridge can house. A bridge is something that helps one achieve the task of passing from one location to another. Without a bridge, it is not possible to walk across a rushing river without getting wet, or crossing a canyon without falling far below. In life we have bridges that arise before us, helping us travel to the next moment in our lives. High school, for example, is a bridge that leads us to a number of destinations; whether it is to college or an immediate start to a career.
The image of a covered bridge has me thinking of an individual crossing a bridge, but unable to see the location around him. The bridge is covered in each direction, walls and ceiling. The individual only sees that the bridge comes to an end before him, but where exactly is not necessarily known for sure. This is a metaphor for crossing bridges in life, that lead to places one cannot be quite sure of. Like the story, the couple decides whether or not to cross the bridge into child bearing. As they cross that bridge, they discuss back and forth the pros and cons of such an act, not knowing if they're going to reach that destination or not. It isn't until they come off that bridge that they realize their destination is not filled with the soul of a new born.
This story grabbed my attention, and whether it be the writing or the story's fault for this, I cannot be sure. I was interested to continue reading, and never got sidetracked or bored at any point during. I felt I had learned so much of these people's lives, and began to feel like I belonged with them. The man's love for his wife passed on to me, and I began to see her beauty and perfection. I connected, simple as that. When one can do that in a story, a film, or what have you, it is such an incredibly power thing.
--------
Where the previous story held me strong with thought and emotion, The Woman Who Lost Her Names left me simply confused and indifferent. The ending line of the story holds so much power and strength, yet I'm not quite sure the significance of it's being.
The story follows a girl who grows to a woman, who is given new names several times in her life. The name being a very important part of passing on the family through generations. Her mother speaks of others marrying for money and changing their names, ridding themselves of their birthrights. And Sarah meets her cousin who's name was changed, saying that the name is nothing as the soul underneath is the same. There are contradictions in the belief of the necessity of a name and it's importance in continuing a line of family.
Sarah's name is changed so for her marriage, and in the end the couple disputes over the name of their new born daughter. Sarah has a name picked out, but her husband says she should be named after her mother. Sarah tells her that her mother will understand and it must be the name she chose. Eventually she raises her voice and reads from her bible so her husband understands that he is trying to name their daughter after a rape.
I don't quite understand the significance of this story, and it's possibly due to culture differences in myself and the characters of the story. Perhaps a discussion in class will help straighten things out.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Albert Einstein: Letter to Jacques Hadamard
With an initial read through it's easy to see the intelligence of Einstein and the confusion that his words can cause when context is absent. After going through the notes written by Jacques after the letter, explaining the questions asked to Einstein, it helped me understand in what light this letter was being written.
It's a simple Q & A - about the creative sense of a mathematician.
Jacques asks how Einstein, or a mathematician in general, sees their work in their mind. Sure, on paper it's a jumble of symbols, letters, and numbers. But Jacques poses questions in regards to the explanation of this gibberish to others, and Einstein explains (I feel, still not completely understanding his answers completely) that words and explanations cannot suffice what these symbols and signs are able to create and produce.
Einstein also explains how these symbols and signs are used habitually and simply come at will when necessary to explain or create a proper equation. His answer to questions (B) seems to say how difficult it can be to search for the proper wording for explanations, when these signs can be produced with little effort to explain.
Question (D) seems to answer a questions in regards to what Einstein feels are the necessary or most common senses used when producing and explaining mathematical equations. "Visual and motor" is his simple statement to start, explaining that words are simply auditive pieces that don't seem to piece together a whole as simply as the visual aspect of the writing on the page, or the motor reflexes to write or determine the actions of that equation.
After reading through several times, but doing little research in the matter of the letter or who Jacques Hadamard is - the above analysis is all I can fully comprehend or equate at the present time. Also, the connection of this document along with the Creativity class this assignment is for is still a slight mystery. But overall, I do see a connection to the creative sense and how we all differ in how we see or prefer to perceive elements of life.
It's a simple Q & A - about the creative sense of a mathematician.
Jacques asks how Einstein, or a mathematician in general, sees their work in their mind. Sure, on paper it's a jumble of symbols, letters, and numbers. But Jacques poses questions in regards to the explanation of this gibberish to others, and Einstein explains (I feel, still not completely understanding his answers completely) that words and explanations cannot suffice what these symbols and signs are able to create and produce.
Einstein also explains how these symbols and signs are used habitually and simply come at will when necessary to explain or create a proper equation. His answer to questions (B) seems to say how difficult it can be to search for the proper wording for explanations, when these signs can be produced with little effort to explain.
Question (D) seems to answer a questions in regards to what Einstein feels are the necessary or most common senses used when producing and explaining mathematical equations. "Visual and motor" is his simple statement to start, explaining that words are simply auditive pieces that don't seem to piece together a whole as simply as the visual aspect of the writing on the page, or the motor reflexes to write or determine the actions of that equation.
After reading through several times, but doing little research in the matter of the letter or who Jacques Hadamard is - the above analysis is all I can fully comprehend or equate at the present time. Also, the connection of this document along with the Creativity class this assignment is for is still a slight mystery. But overall, I do see a connection to the creative sense and how we all differ in how we see or prefer to perceive elements of life.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Creative // Imagination // Culture
These three words swim together rather nicely when tossed into a simmering pot filled with fresh cut taters and baby carrots. At first glance these words do seem to piece together quite perfectly, specifically "creative" and "imagination". "Culture", however, seems slightly outside of the circle, but subconsciously you understand where it fits into the mix.
When looking into the definitions of the words "creative" and "imagination" you can find that each word is used in the others description. This, I feel, is appropriate. My personal definition of these words, pretending I didn't look at any sort of reference, would be as follows:
"Creative" would be used to describe a set of ideals and thoughts being put together in a way or means that is not readily available in thought. It is something that combines many aspects and concepts in a manner that requires a step-by-step thought process. At times this is used to make stories or ideas that are not necessarily within reality, or are matters of art in whatever form.
"Imagination" is something that individuals have which uses creativity. Much like the above definition, it is ideals and concepts being constructed in non-conventional forms. Those who are creative have an imagination, the imagination is linked to one's creativity.
Now "Culture" is something that sort of consumes the previous words mentioned above. Imagination and creativeness are what make up a culture. A culture would be defined as the major, consistent forms of art that differentiate a set of people from another set of people. Our culture consists of certain films, stories, events, mythologies, heroes, villains, paintings, etc. No other culture has our specific blah, blah, blah. They have their own forms, and that makes up their culture. But our imagination and creativeness established in our culture is unique.
These are loose definitions that could use some major honing and chiseling; however, it's a start in the right direction. And, like what these words represent, the words themselves are not easily contained within single, simple summaries.
When looking into the definitions of the words "creative" and "imagination" you can find that each word is used in the others description. This, I feel, is appropriate. My personal definition of these words, pretending I didn't look at any sort of reference, would be as follows:
"Creative" would be used to describe a set of ideals and thoughts being put together in a way or means that is not readily available in thought. It is something that combines many aspects and concepts in a manner that requires a step-by-step thought process. At times this is used to make stories or ideas that are not necessarily within reality, or are matters of art in whatever form.
"Imagination" is something that individuals have which uses creativity. Much like the above definition, it is ideals and concepts being constructed in non-conventional forms. Those who are creative have an imagination, the imagination is linked to one's creativity.
Now "Culture" is something that sort of consumes the previous words mentioned above. Imagination and creativeness are what make up a culture. A culture would be defined as the major, consistent forms of art that differentiate a set of people from another set of people. Our culture consists of certain films, stories, events, mythologies, heroes, villains, paintings, etc. No other culture has our specific blah, blah, blah. They have their own forms, and that makes up their culture. But our imagination and creativeness established in our culture is unique.
These are loose definitions that could use some major honing and chiseling; however, it's a start in the right direction. And, like what these words represent, the words themselves are not easily contained within single, simple summaries.
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