Elder Myth

Most of us understand our lives as a narrative story. Elders tend to form that into a mythology. Like any good literature, the best exaggerate the highs and lows and often have a structure with a moral. Grandparents especially enjoy inflicting this on their young grandchildren. Or at anyone else when there is a holiday gathering. It’s a way of making a mark on the universe, claiming an importance almost as meaningful as in tales of heroes of old .

Nor is it wrong to do so. There is more to existence than daily meals and bedtime. Formulating one’s place in eternal mystery is important to all of us. And once in a while it is nice to share – even proclaim – that adventure .

Unlike many others, I do not think such tales actually help the young in their own lives. Life and circumstance were always unique, and the days change at a dizzying speed. At best this is just another form of entertainment with the added benefit of being (mostly) true .

Oh, perhaps there is some moral value. But really it helps everyone share and join internal narratives to feel far less lonely in the ineffable cosmos.

Yeoman Artisans

Jefferson expected a country of “yeoman farmers” who would have self-sufficiency by day and discuss politics by night. Never happened. He certainly was not much interested for himself, at least if slaves were not available to do the work .

For a while we did have artisan farmers, who would grow some of their own food and sell specialized items for the rest. Soon enough, artisans stopped growing stuff altogether. Then the idea was suburban nuclear families, working for a large company to gain currency. Fuzzy effect of the ongoing industrial revolution on society, as workers were turned into machines. No politics by night, just entertainment .

Now I wonder. Is AI and automation the end of that paradigm as well? More and more we seem to become a nation of “yeoman artisans” bartering our own specialties for livelihood. Not quite worked out yet, but I wonder what work and life may become in the next decade .

Not Jeffersonian. And probably far from Utopian. But the real point is – nobody knows. And hardly anyone is even sure what they would like .

I enjoyed being an artisan computer professional. Artisan pride fit me well. But the other thing I wonder is if there will remain varied niches for varied folks to fit into .

Beauty

Like ” wrong”, beauty is one of those concepts that can never be simply defined. It depends not only on environmental and cultural factors but also on the mood of the observer. We can often agree, but almost as often argue with others and even with ourselves .

It’s fairly safe to say that even considering beauty requires a sense of security within the observer _ you can hardly appreciate the loveliness of a forest while being chased by a bear. . Whether something is beautiful or not occurs way down on the scale of evolutionary fight or flight. A great deal of the time, most of us hardly notice it at all .

We assume that – like other odd traits – there must be SOME biological reason we can respond to beauty. Perhaps it helps social solidarity. Perhaps it is a shortcut to relaxation. Certainly nothing obvious .

I have noticed that in my own life the idea of beautiful has evolved as I age. When young, it was primarily biological. When older, mostly cultural. And now, in an elder, much more simply appreciation of all that is and how it fits together. A miraculous and – yes – extremely beautiful universe .

At least when I am happy, secure, and not doing too much .

Next Time

We are conditioned by evolution and experience to expect there to be a “next time” for most events. Next time the sun comes up, the next time it rains, an endless procession of recurrences .

We use that knowledge to plan and learn. “Next time will be different” we may say. We hope to do better in things at which we have failed, repeat exactly things we have enjoyed. And for most of our lives, for much of our daily existence, that belief works very well indeed .

Oh, we know there are unusual one-offs. Never again a fifth birthday party. Hopefully not another car accident. We stash those away and hope or fear as “once in a lifetime” .

As I grow older, “next time” becomes more problematic. Almost all the things I used to know have changed. Places are no longer as they were. Some people have vanished. Institutions I took for granted have mutated as in horror films. Some of it is good, I acknowledge, but even that means there is no true next time for a lot of my memories .

And it begins to get a little frightening. Any given day, for any given event, any given encounter, there may never be a next time. Such absences cascade until I feel trapped in a few quotidian routines that I can (for the moment) count on .

And yet – I DO still expect a next time most of the time.

Entranced

I think throughout history most humans at one time or another have entered a trance state. Often from concentration on something, sometimes from unusual circumstances like pain or fatigue, occasionally from use of drugs or alcohol. Always when dreaming .

In a trance we tend not to be fully aware of our surroundings. The universe has narrowed down to a particular selection of mind and senses. We are hyper aware of a few things and ignore the environment. This condition may last a few minutes, a few hours, rarely longer .

I’ve always been easily entranced. When reading a good book, for example. In my working days, entering a fugue in cyberspace as I worked out problems. Now when I engage with a sketch or drawing .

There’s not much to say about being in a trance. To be honest, I most appreciate it when I return to “real life”. I suddenly realize I’ve been away. I am refreshed, relaxed, and surprised. Wonderful things!

Of course, nobody can or should inhabit dreamland forever. There is truly a big universe to appreciate out there. But as a short vacation from the mundane it is magnificent .

Selecting Limits

A primary goal in any art form is to select the limits of the work and communicate them to an imagined audience. A pencil sketch is different from an oil canvas. A tonal study has criteria which do not much resemble hard outlines . How well the final work succeeds is based on the selection of limits, the communication of these limits, and the impact of the finished product within its declared and accepted boundaries .

I think this is why we find children’s or “primitive” or amateur work so charming. We accept the basic proposition and enjoy the creation. No need to compare your child’s work to the Sistine chapel. “Grandma Moses” even finds a place in fine art museums .

We live, however, in an age of imagined limitlessness. Artists often refuse to accept any limits, and the result is a mess, whether a dinner or a sculpture or a book. Other artists rebel and set artificially narrow bounds which, even if successfully executed, are quite boring once the initial shock wears off .

So I happily say to myself “this and not that”, or “that’s enough”. My art is more satisfying for so doing. And I pretty much feel the same way about life in general .

Making Criminals

We are each guilty. As the Bible says “let him that is without sin cast the first stone”. Going through a red light as it changes from yellow. A few miles over the 15 mph speed limit. Fudging an application slightly from need or vanity .

Life isn’t fair. Being nice when accosted by the police sometimes gets you off with a warning (unless they’re too far behind on quota.) Sometimes they don’t like your looks. A fine or court appearance – it’s a free country except for time, hassle, and in some cases expenses for a lawyer. We won’t even mention bribes.

But the point is, if somebody doesn’t like you – the police, the actual officer, the people controlling the police – you are going to be harassed as a criminal for something or other. Even if “proven innocent” later, the loss of reputation, not to mention loss of time and energy – can be significant. Often that’s the point of the whole thing .

Juries were supposed to be the backstop. And maybe they were in the slow old rural days. Now they can be as intimidated as anyone else, and the massive loss and time of a trial makes an awful lot of folks accept a plea deal just to get back to normal .

When the judicial system rots from above or within, well, we’ve seen the results in Stalinist Russia and a bunch of other places. Maybe coming soon to a courtroom near you .

Goals

Goals are one of our most fragile, useful, illusions. Although they may help focus our activities, they are subject to constant change and apt to be overruled any instant by some contradictory pursuit. Not to mention modified or severely disrupted by changes in environmental reality .

But, as noted, they are useful anyway. I like to work at making my art better – although exactly what that means is tenuous. Draw more accurately? Accent a personal style? Create something beautiful? Yes, well, okay …

There is usually a question of trade-offs – enjoy that donut or continue the diet? More seriously, how willing should we be to direct all our energies towards a relatively exclusive vision. Trying to be the “best” at something, if done to exclusion, may “work” but leave us damaged or unable to do much else .

I’ve learned to accept reevaluation of goals as a normal part of consciousness. No doubt aided by being older, when it is only prudent to find time scale shrinking and capabilities more limited. I no longer try to run fast, nor to walk 15 or so miles. I do adjust to walking “briskly” on hills, and I’m satisfied if I do a few miles or so .

Thus also with my artwork. And, honestly, an awful lot of my daily moments. Sad, I suppose, from the goal orientation of youth. Which has faded, as all illusions do .

AI and Pride

Perhaps we have all turned into John Henry, pounding railroad spikes trying to beat a machine. Artists are confronted with the same situation as other intellectual occupations – what used to take skill, pride, thought, and time can now be done by any teenager in a dull moment. The internet is flooded with AI images, movies, stories. Work has similarly vanished. Some of us remain luddites, stubbornly sticking to brush and pencil. Why? A waste of time…

But is it ?

Climbing a mountain or hiking in a forest is not the same as viewing a YouTube video of the adventure (not even – as technology advances – an IMAX immersion). Things we do for ourselves have both an outer and an inner component .

Accomplishment of something difficult brings pride. Even if it is only pounding spikes. Or painting a canvas .

The key is that doing something you like to do, either for the activity itself or for recognition, is a kind of play. The same task forced on you (especially repetitively) is a chore or boring job. We should avoid confusing the two .

Mankind evolved with hand coordination. In spite of our big brains, we remain a physically oriented species. I think AI art robs both the creator and the audience of that heritage. Except for the brief thrill of novelty, pride and satisfaction are completely missing .

Appreciation

I believe the primary goal of art is to instill appreciation. That is true whether one is creating it or absorbing it. All the rest is detail. That outlook applies to all types of artistry. Cooking, dancing, painting, whatever. A warm flush of “wellness” if it works. In current jargon, a re-enchantment with the world .

I approach my current pastels and sketches in such a mood. Not to “capture” what I see – that is done ad nauseum by photographs and photorealistic artists. Not to create salable artifacts, nor even some phantom dream of inclusion in the universal “museum without walls” . Just to fully engage in and appreciate a moment, in my case more easily accomplished by my clumsy actions.

Oh I admit it’s nice to have a tangible marker of having been alive. A kind of pride at having “done something” rather than just sitting on the couch. Like writing, a verifiable trail to the past .

Nice relaxed attitude, a child again. I don’t much care if what I do closely resembles whatever inspired me. The goal is more the trance of a vision enabled by concentrated action. When I wake out of this state, if successful, I am relaxed and content with everything .