Places with Personality

I love unique places.  Places with Heart, that seem to have a personality all their own.  I enjoy  discovering wonderful little hole-in-the-wall venues like hidden treasures.  I relish in the spirit of independently owned places, where the love and characters of the owners and workers seems to have seeped into the walls.  Places that are out of the ordinary- from parks to art galleries- and places that speak to my own personality.

Some of my favorite places in the U.S. are Savannah, Little Five Points and Warm Springs, all in my native Georgia, and Colorado Springs (or rather certain areas outside of it, such as The Garden of the Gods and Mountaindale.)  I love the scenery of the Rocky mountains, and the culture- a mixture of Native American, Celtic, Mexican- that underlies the place.  I love the woods, the mountains, and the rivers.  I love the wildness of the land and the free-spirited, open people.  However, other places hold equal portions of my heart.  I love historic towns.  I love the unique, elegant yet flamboyant soul of Savannah, the close, friendly, lost-in-time feeling of Warm Springs, and the colorful, artistic storefronts of Little Five Points.  I love the old bed and breakfast inns that mingle refinement with relaxation like a kind, old, matronly aunt.  I love the colorful charm and quaint beauty of Riverstreet and the Market Square in Savannah, and of down town Warm Springs.  I love the unconstrained, lively, new age viberance of Little Five Points.

In fact, my idea of paradise is something of a blend between such places.  Imagine a beautiful terrain of forests and mountains, in which there nestles a historic little town filled with unique shops, restaurants, art galleries, small theaters and friendly denizens. Where there is a huge, old fashioned bookstore between a new age coffee shop and a laid back Irish pub.  Oh, and did I mention that this would be an Otherworldly place? Magic would be real, and elves, fey, and other such beings would be included in the population- though perhaps unknown to most.  Perhaps such a notion is foolish, but perhaps not.  Sometimes I wonder if some of my favorite places might hold such denizens.  It seems somehow fitting that creatures of faerie- who are connected so much more to the spirit and heart of things than humans- would feel my same attraction to unique and beautiful places.  Sometimes I wonder if the place I dream about exists in some quiet little corner of the world, or if my job is to create it- to dream it, write it, paint it- and to make it real?

Or is this place only in my heart?

Lost Cities

Lost cities-- indeed, all ancient ruined cities-- are fascinating, sobering, beautiful, mysterious and strange.  They easily lend themselves to curiosity, imagination, and pensiveness.  A certain thrilling disquietude can be found in feeling the breathless stillness and hearing the echoing silence of a place that once bustled with life, and the mind almost trembles with the sense that somewhere, just below the mundane, glimmers vestiges of those who once walked the forgotten streets.  Such places seem dreamlike, as if they reside on the borders of our existence and the Otherworld.

I have never been to a true Lost City myself, but I have had the chance to see a couple of ruins.  Some peoplemseem to feel that my fasenation with them is rather morbid, but I can't bring myself to agree.  For me, they are places to think and learn about the past.  Exploration of ruins awakens child-like natural inquisitiveness, which in turn prods the mind with itching questions.  Who lived here?  What became of them?  Were the really so different from us?  Will someone one day stand in our own hometowns and ponder these same enigmas?

In a way, lost cities answer some of the same riddles they pose.  It's invigorating to watch a historical documentary and witness archeologists and anthropologists assembling clues with the skill and fervor of the most dedicated sleuths.  Piece by piece the puzzle is constructed until a clear-- though often incomplete-- image of an ancient people emerges.  With breathless wonder researches realize the ancient Minoan citys like Knossos had running hot and cold water, flushing toilets, and earthquake-resistant walls. (For more information, see http://santorinitravelguide.com/?p=p_67&sName=santorini-historical-guide)  They note with similar awe that the Greeks built the first "analog computer," (http://www.antikytheramechanism.org/) and that the ancient Romans invented many of our modern surgical tools. (http://www.hsl.virginia.edu/historical/artifacts/roman_surgical/)  They marvel that the lost Indian city of Dwarka-- said to be the home of the god Krishna, and long believed to be a myth-- actually exists.  (http://www.epicindia.com/magazine/Culture/the-lost-city-of-dwarka)  With equal wonder they uncover a previously unknown ancient city in China's Taklamakan desert whose mummified  residents are not Mongolian or Cantonese, but Celtic. (http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/asia/a-meeting-of-civilisations-the-mystery-of-chinas-celtic-mummies-413638.html)

The uncertainty we feel concerning the one-time glory of lost cities opens the doors to endless possibilities and gives our imaginations whole new landscapes to gallop in.  The inhabitants might have been anyone.  There could be unfathomable wonders to discover.  As a fan of Tolkien's great works, I look at Knossos and see a real life version of Gondor.  As a devout studier of mythology, I look at Dwarka and see a god's lost domain, and I look at the Taklamakan "Beauty of Loulan" and see a descendant of Scathach.

Despite the undisturbed and soundless tranquility of lost cities and ruined cities, they are a place where the mind comes alive.  They are places to make dfiscoveries, let our imaginations soar free, and remind ourselves that these ancients were intellegent and inventive-- no different from us.  Lost cities remind us that by looking at our oast we may also be looking at our future.  They remind us that all we build, no matter how great, will one day crumble and rust.  They bid us to live while we can, and to never forget that nothing in this life is truly eternal.

Creativity

Do you feel places?  Do you walk into some locales—like Walmart, for instance—and feel surrounded by still lifelessness?  By contrast, do you walk into a creative, individually owned venue and feel the personality of the place itself?  Do you feel the huge, almost overwhelming, breathless and free presence of nature when you walk out into the woods, climb a mountain, or walk along a quiet beach?  When you stand in the ocean, do you feel the strange, nearly electric tingle of life?


If so, you may understand what I mean when I say that creativity is far more than inventiveness for me.  It’s a state of being, a way of looking at the world, and something sacred and indefinable.  The closest I can come to describing it is to call it a simultaneous connection to the creator of the world—whatever you wish to call that creator—and a reflection and expression of one’s own spirit.
In several cultures, people with great creativity and talent were once viewed as somewhat otherworldly, and to an extent I think this may be an accurate perception.  Those who are blessed with a great deal of imaginativeness and artisiticness are connected to something that's both deep within and so external that it's rather alien.  That unfathomable "something" is not accessible-- or fully understandable-- to others.  Of course, nothing comes without a price, and we tend to be rather eccentric-- sometimes entirely crazy-- but that only makes life more fun.  :)

I cannot speak for others, (though I suspect they feel similarly,) but, for me, writing, sketching and such are more than hobbies.  I need to create.  I often feel that it is as great a necessity as food and shelter.  True, I could probably continue surviving without making or enjoying pieces of art, but something inside of me would die.  And that something is a massive part of my personality as well as my purpose and joy in life.  To put it plainly, food, water and warmth are imperative for life, but art, music, literature and theatre are what make life worth living.  Since I first began writing and drawing as a young child, I have never had the ability or desire to stop.  In fact, I don’t believe a single week has passed since I was five or so that I did not create something.

So yes, when I see an empty cigar box, I see an opportunity to create a new purse or jewelry box.  When I look at people, I wonder about their lives and sometimes begin spinning silent tales about them.  I notice details and emotions and fine undercurrents, and I like to seek out unique places and soak them in.  I look beyond the surface, and find magic and wonder in the mundane.  I enjoy taking full delight in the small pleasures my existence has to offer.  Most of all, however, I love to unbind my spirit from the confines of daily drudgery, follow my inspirations wherever they may lead, and create.
 

What is Kitsch?

            When it comes to paintings there is some debate about exactly what Kitsch is.  Some, taking the view expressed by wealthy art collectors in the Victorian era, say that it is any soft, feminine work of art.  This, however, would mean that the work any artist from the Rococo period is kitsch, and that certainly isn’t accurate.  Some say that it is any reproduction of artwork.  This, however, is a thoroughly elitist view, as it rules out anything that average citizens can afford.  Besides that, it is certainly incorrect.  The artistic value of a painting is placed on the work itself, not on its monetary value.  While there is certainly something awe-inspiring about standing before the actual canvas that was transformed into art by the loving strokes of a master artist’s brush, I would argue that the actual artistic value of a painting lies in the emotions it produces, the contemplations it instigates and in the creative skill it embodies.  The wonderment one feels when gazing at the original is of a more historical nature, and is derived more from the thought that this is indeed the painting that the artist actually touched.  One would feel much the same way when gazing on the sword that William Wallace wielded, or the flag that inspired the Star Spangled Banner.  When prints of a painting are made, the historical value may not apply to the copies, but the artistic value remains intact.

            What, then, is kitsch?  After careful thought, I have formed two opinions on the matter.  The first is simply that kitsch– if there truly is such a thing– must apply to the original work.  There must be something about the painting that lessens it in some way.  As an illustration, I have chosen two artists.  I like both, both offer prints of their work, and both have soft, “feminine” styles, but I believe one may be considered kitschy while the other is not.

            The first is Thomas Kinkade.  Now, please understand that I mean no offence when I say he is a bit kitschy.  I think that his paintings are beautiful, but the fact is that they are not thought provoking, they do not inspire a range of emotions, and they are, frankly, a little repetitive.  Google the term Thomas Kinkade and you will find a lot of beautiful paintings that are all basically the same.

            The second artist is Josephine Wall.  While she has a unique style that is evident in all of her work, each of her paintings is unique and seems to tell a story all its own.  Different Josephine Wall paintings carry different emotions and provoke different ideas, though admittedly they all tend to be of a pleasant sort.  (In my mind this is no bad thing.  I resent the idea that something has to be controversial and unhappy in order to be art.  That is like saying only somber aires actually count as music.)  There are multitudes details that draw one in– faces peer out from the landscape, clouds take the form of dancers, figures dissolve into scenes– and viewers begin feeling like they are falling into a dream.  In many cases, these details contain symbols that hint at the personification or myth the painting is meant to portray.  If one has a background in Paganism, Mythology, New Age Philosophy, or all three, one is likely to recognize important or sacred symbols in Josephine’s work.  Even if one knows nothing about the aforementioned things, however, one understands that there is a deeper meaning hidden in the artwork.  Any person who truly stops and looks at a Josephine Wall painting cannot help but wonder what significance or story is masked in that veil of paint.

A Founatain of Inspiration

There are a lot of differing ways to view life.  I agree with those who say it is a test- I believe it was pitcher Vernon Law who said "Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterward"- and I agree with those who liken it to a journey- I view all decisions, small and large, as forks and paths which determine our future roads and destinations.  However, I have another metaphor for life, and for reality as a whole, which seems to be fairly unique.  I view life and the world as a large sculpture.

To many, this may not initially make sense, and in fact it probably sounds utterly insane.  Before you begin searching the phone books for a good psychologist, however, allow me to offer an explanation.   Let's imagine that a certain tourist- I think I'll call him Bubba Billy-Bob Hacker- travels to Rome to see Berninis' famous Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi.  If he stands at a single point- we'll say it is the eastern side of the fountain- and admires the view, then walks away, he will have only a partial understanding of what the fountain actually looks like.  If, when this individual returns home, he's asked to describe the fountain, his portrayal, while accurate, will be incomplete.  Let's say that Bubba was accompanied by a friend who chose to walk around the fountain and appreciate it from every view- as he obviously had more sense than his companion, I think I'll name him something nice and normal, like Joe.  When Joe is asked what the fountain looked like, he'll be able to offer his listeners a complete description- unless, of course, he suffers from memory loss.  But that is hardly the point.

Every system of belief, every world view, and every cultural understanding has a portion of truth in it.  No one idea is wholly and unarguably right- though it may be that some hold more truth than others.  I suppose it could be said that I view understanding like a puzzle- pieces of axiom and actuality are garnered from various world views and then pieced together into one coherent image of life.  Those who seek to understand life from multiple, differing view points are likely to have a clearer and more complete picture.

An example of such a "puzzle" is my view of the universal force which appears in many religions.  The Hindu idea of a Universal Energy is extremely similar to the Druidic idea of Awan and the Christian idea of the Holy Spirit. In fact studying Hinduism in an Eastern Philosophy class helped me to understand the other two concepts better. I suppose it could be said that I looked at the sculpture from all sides. Likewise, my exploration of differing ideologies and beliefs has led to the discovery of my own personal understanding of spirituality- a blend of Christianity with Celtic Druidism and Native American Shamanism that fits my soul perfectly and echos with a ringing truth in my heart.

I am neither wise nor perfect- in fact I am miles removed from both- but I believe that looking at life and existence through multiple views has enriched my understanding and endowed me with at least a small glimmer of sagacity.