Here's a link to an essay I wrote for Outside Bozeman's Blog.
Thanks for checking it out!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Economics, Society and Art
(This post is a reply to a Facebook comment by my friend Marc - about my previous post, "Giving Work Away for Free" (see comments on previous post). Marc is an exceptional artist who is always pushing all of art's boundaries - creation, exhibition, distribution and philosophy.
He also understands that there is a paradigm shift happening in the art world and that discussion is invaluable if we are to understand and adapt to this shift.)
I read somewhere (sorry, I can't remember where, I read a lot!) that many of the people developing opensource software do it to improve other software they are developing for themselves or their company. While not directly, they are getting paid either by their company or by driving people to the products that pay. So, even though they probably enjoy developing software, there is a financial incentive to create opensource.
Artists also enjoy creating (I bet some would say creating software is an art also). Most artists don't do it for the money. We look at the money as a bonus because the gap between time spent on art verses the economic benifit from said art is huge. So, we have second and third jobs to finance our creations.
But, it's called art "work" for a reason - it's work so, according to our economic system, should be paid for.
Society needs art to question and create, to give birth to new ideas through the evolution of old ones. But, society doesn't value art, sees it as frivolous and self indulgent. So is making money within a capitalist system. Why do you make money? To buy a nice car, go out t
o eat or live in a nice place. Some would argue making money is about survival.
Well, making art is about survival as well. Survival of the soul and the voice for the individual and society. We learn about past societies mostly through their art.
I (along with other writers and photographers) am trying to change the value (none) society has currently placed on art to something that reflects the contribution of art to society. It's easier with photography and writing than other art because these things are used by a capitalist system to communicate within and promote the system. Look around you - writing and photography are everywhere! Adds, newspapers, blogs, menus.... You get the idea. Without writing and photography there is no society, or at least one we cannot imagine.
But, since the digital revolution the business model for writing and photography is in upheaval. We are are trying to develop a new business model within this economic system. I spend too much money on my writing and photography training and equipment to give the products away for free. I have bills to pay, equipment and software to upgrade, more skills to learn and improve and a business to run. (I guess making money is about economic survival)
So until our society changes into a new type of economic system I need to get paid for my work.
He also understands that there is a paradigm shift happening in the art world and that discussion is invaluable if we are to understand and adapt to this shift.)
I read somewhere (sorry, I can't remember where, I read a lot!) that many of the people developing opensource software do it to improve other software they are developing for themselves or their company. While not directly, they are getting paid either by their company or by driving people to the products that pay. So, even though they probably enjoy developing software, there is a financial incentive to create opensource.
Artists also enjoy creating (I bet some would say creating software is an art also). Most artists don't do it for the money. We look at the money as a bonus because the gap between time spent on art verses the economic benifit from said art is huge. So, we have second and third jobs to finance our creations.
But, it's called art "work" for a reason - it's work so, according to our economic system, should be paid for.
Society needs art to question and create, to give birth to new ideas through the evolution of old ones. But, society doesn't value art, sees it as frivolous and self indulgent. So is making money within a capitalist system. Why do you make money? To buy a nice car, go out t
o eat or live in a nice place. Some would argue making money is about survival.Well, making art is about survival as well. Survival of the soul and the voice for the individual and society. We learn about past societies mostly through their art.
I (along with other writers and photographers) am trying to change the value (none) society has currently placed on art to something that reflects the contribution of art to society. It's easier with photography and writing than other art because these things are used by a capitalist system to communicate within and promote the system. Look around you - writing and photography are everywhere! Adds, newspapers, blogs, menus.... You get the idea. Without writing and photography there is no society, or at least one we cannot imagine.
But, since the digital revolution the business model for writing and photography is in upheaval. We are are trying to develop a new business model within this economic system. I spend too much money on my writing and photography training and equipment to give the products away for free. I have bills to pay, equipment and software to upgrade, more skills to learn and improve and a business to run. (I guess making money is about economic survival)
So until our society changes into a new type of economic system I need to get paid for my work.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Giving Work Away For Free
We’ve all heard the snotty guy comment about art saying, “that’s art!? I could do that.” Same goes for writing. A lot of people think it’s easy to crank out a novel, article, short story or even a haiku.
So, why don’t you? Why don’t you spend the time and creative energy in the evenings after your full time job? No, got something better to do? How about Saturdays or Sundays then?
Why doesn't average Joe write? Because, it’s not easy to write. To be successful a writer has to think about their target audience and the voice of the writing. They draw on the years spent studying their craft in classrooms, reading trade journals, networking, observing trends and geeking-out over a thesaurus.
An article or advertisement for 12-year-old girls from suburbia will be different then one for 45 yr old men in New York telecommunications. When crafting a poem or piece of fiction a writer weaves plot, description and character development.
Neither type of writing is a static affair. If a writer has done a good job the writing rolls and pulses and the reader follows along.
What everybody from pro-athlete to accountant has in common is an innate talent cultivated by hours and hour of practice and study. We are all trying to make a living using our specific skill set. With writing and photography (As a freelance photographer as well I also face the same expectations of giving away my work for free) so prolific in our modern society it’s easy to take the things we see and read for granted, thereby placing a lower value on them.
To all the readers and admirers of art - the next time you read something, whether in a magazine, on the web or on the side of a bus think about the how that message was crafted and how much student debt it took to learn that skill. Think about how much money in equipment and software it took to create that image.
And to my fellow writers and photographers - please, don't give your work away for dirt-cheap. It devalues the education, effort and finances that goes into all work and hurts the rest of us.
It’s the essence of capitalism. You don’t give your skills away for free so neither should the rest of us. Kind of funny how the capitalists want the rest of us to be socialists.
So, why don’t you? Why don’t you spend the time and creative energy in the evenings after your full time job? No, got something better to do? How about Saturdays or Sundays then?
Why doesn't average Joe write? Because, it’s not easy to write. To be successful a writer has to think about their target audience and the voice of the writing. They draw on the years spent studying their craft in classrooms, reading trade journals, networking, observing trends and geeking-out over a thesaurus.
An article or advertisement for 12-year-old girls from suburbia will be different then one for 45 yr old men in New York telecommunications. When crafting a poem or piece of fiction a writer weaves plot, description and character development.
Neither type of writing is a static affair. If a writer has done a good job the writing rolls and pulses and the reader follows along.
What everybody from pro-athlete to accountant has in common is an innate talent cultivated by hours and hour of practice and study. We are all trying to make a living using our specific skill set. With writing and photography (As a freelance photographer as well I also face the same expectations of giving away my work for free) so prolific in our modern society it’s easy to take the things we see and read for granted, thereby placing a lower value on them.
To all the readers and admirers of art - the next time you read something, whether in a magazine, on the web or on the side of a bus think about the how that message was crafted and how much student debt it took to learn that skill. Think about how much money in equipment and software it took to create that image.
And to my fellow writers and photographers - please, don't give your work away for dirt-cheap. It devalues the education, effort and finances that goes into all work and hurts the rest of us.
It’s the essence of capitalism. You don’t give your skills away for free so neither should the rest of us. Kind of funny how the capitalists want the rest of us to be socialists.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Mommy, what is creativity?
"It starts as an itch where the spine meets the skull, seeping into Freudian slips and throwing a stick into the spinning spokes of the endless internal monologue. This itch can be overrun by fear of survival, by armies of breeders forever marching forward, afraid of the battles ahead and too dumb to question the Caesar looking over their backs from the clock tower.
But, if allowed to squirts sideways…
Something’ll get coughed up, a slimy hairball, slightly putrid with black bile and gastric juices, waiting for a shot of lightening so it’s amino acids can be recombined into the spark of life, wiggling and squirming its way across the cold linoleum floor to crawl into it’s new hole where it can grow in safety while making raids on table scraps and long forgotten chunks swept under the fridge.
Will it grow into a pavlovian friend or slink away into the mountains, creeping along the tops of cliff bands hardly seen but still causing the hair to raise on the back of the neck from thought of its teeth and claws?
Either way it can be collared but never chained, yanking the leash out of the hand or dying, chain stretched taunt across the yard, ass pointed towards freedom.
It loves coffee and eye-candy and long semi-stoned runs deep into the mountains, it’s presence always felt, sometime sitting on a shoulder and whispering in the ear, sometimes flying so only its shadow can be glimpsed as it crosses the sun. It needs to be free to explore, to play across the world, deviating down random paths, collecting bruises and tickling neurons that have become dusty and shrunken.
But it also needs a partner, a companion, a rostrum so it can manifest into the world to be deconstructed, a signifier to be reborn a million times, it’s mother forgotten but forever sharing in it’s origin. It needs courage to overcome fear and live."
But, if allowed to squirts sideways…
Something’ll get coughed up, a slimy hairball, slightly putrid with black bile and gastric juices, waiting for a shot of lightening so it’s amino acids can be recombined into the spark of life, wiggling and squirming its way across the cold linoleum floor to crawl into it’s new hole where it can grow in safety while making raids on table scraps and long forgotten chunks swept under the fridge.
Will it grow into a pavlovian friend or slink away into the mountains, creeping along the tops of cliff bands hardly seen but still causing the hair to raise on the back of the neck from thought of its teeth and claws?
Either way it can be collared but never chained, yanking the leash out of the hand or dying, chain stretched taunt across the yard, ass pointed towards freedom.
It loves coffee and eye-candy and long semi-stoned runs deep into the mountains, it’s presence always felt, sometime sitting on a shoulder and whispering in the ear, sometimes flying so only its shadow can be glimpsed as it crosses the sun. It needs to be free to explore, to play across the world, deviating down random paths, collecting bruises and tickling neurons that have become dusty and shrunken.
But it also needs a partner, a companion, a rostrum so it can manifest into the world to be deconstructed, a signifier to be reborn a million times, it’s mother forgotten but forever sharing in it’s origin. It needs courage to overcome fear and live."
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Sitting Samurai
Sitting Samurai
Originally uploaded by A Schultz.
(This poem is the rough draft - please check back for edits)
(7/17/08 - here's the second edit)
“Come here and listen my son
The samurai sits,
asleep in his thoughts
but awake in his movements through the clouds
his reflections an open window to a world
where his brother is alive
The brother waits,
floating in his own world of clouds and blue sky
But the samurai guards the window
waiting to avenge his brothers absence
They both wait for you
We train every day with breath and movement
running through time, swimming in reverie
Our thoughts commenting on our lives
Our actions commenting on our thoughts
We train every night with breath and movement
running in water, swimming through air
Our dreams commenting on our actions
Our lives commenting on our dreams
Take your breath, take your movement
and shape them
into a long sharp blade
Its profile will then become a mirror
And when you look into this mirror
you will see a brother
He floats, cross-legged, sheathed in silence
but humming with determination
Waiting for you to make your move
To scratch the silver off the glass
The window never closes”
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Carpenter Haiku
"Mornin’"
one drop, a cousin
atomized by window pane
clock says five a.m.
beans spin into dust
scent steams from pressed hot water
wet dog waits at door
foundation of bread
sometimes ham, sometimes jelly
lunchbox sits by door
paved capillaries
move us towards the heart of the day
a path through the rain
“Mornin’ George.”
“Mornin’.”
dropping “good” builds less concern
tool belts dried through night
Renamed, Becomes Soul
a million cousins
atomized by gore-tex coat
white noise with music
saw spins into wood
nail steams from compressed cold air
wet dog under porch
measure, mark, cut, nail
lumber pile dissected
renamed, becomes soul
narrow wooden bones are
plumbed, pointing at the sky
skin is important
“I’m over it, man”
tool belts hanging to dry again
clock says five-thirty
one drop, a cousin
atomized by window pane
clock says five a.m.
beans spin into dust
scent steams from pressed hot water
wet dog waits at door
foundation of bread
sometimes ham, sometimes jelly
lunchbox sits by door
paved capillaries
move us towards the heart of the day
a path through the rain
“Mornin’ George.”
“Mornin’.”
dropping “good” builds less concern
tool belts dried through night
Renamed, Becomes Soul
a million cousins
atomized by gore-tex coat
white noise with music
saw spins into wood
nail steams from compressed cold air
wet dog under porch
measure, mark, cut, nail
lumber pile dissected
renamed, becomes soul
narrow wooden bones are
plumbed, pointing at the sky
skin is important
“I’m over it, man”
tool belts hanging to dry again
clock says five-thirty
Sunday, April 27, 2008
She Only Visits Me in Dreams These Days
You hold my face with your hands
Your dark chocolate eyes steam in perfect temperature
But swirl slowly in a worry
I had stirred up by seeing you again
A worry
that I’d kiss you before you were ready
Your face moves closer
Your dark curls slide
past your cheeks towards mine
curtains shutting out the world
Your hands guide my lips towards yours
The moment before we kiss
your eyes shift from soft worry
to uncertainty about where your movement will lead
We’ve done this before…
I stare at the dark ceiling
Your ghost fading from my lips
and the phantom curls on my cheeks
are replaced by moisture
by memories I did not expect
My nights are saturated with our unique kiss
I love seeing you, until I awake
Do you dream of me when I am dreaming of you?
I fear both answers
Your dark chocolate eyes steam in perfect temperature
But swirl slowly in a worry
I had stirred up by seeing you again
A worry
that I’d kiss you before you were ready
Your face moves closer
Your dark curls slide
past your cheeks towards mine
curtains shutting out the world
Your hands guide my lips towards yours
The moment before we kiss
your eyes shift from soft worry
to uncertainty about where your movement will lead
We’ve done this before…
I stare at the dark ceiling
Your ghost fading from my lips
and the phantom curls on my cheeks
are replaced by moisture
by memories I did not expect
My nights are saturated with our unique kiss
I love seeing you, until I awake
Do you dream of me when I am dreaming of you?
I fear both answers
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