Why are we compelled to work in one art form or medium, and not another?
Connie loves her paints, while I am wooed by ink. Diane snaps her photographs, while I scribble down my words. Why?
The answers really don’t matter. The results speak for themselves; we love what we love and we do what we can.
But I’m still curious.
Imprinting, or, the Gosling Effect
They say that when a baby goose is hatched, it will bond with the first living creature it sees. Usually, this would be its mother, but, in the absence of a mother, it could just as easily be a human being or even a dog.
Psychologists call this “imprinting”.
Does this explain how we come to choose our central art forms? Have we been imprinted upon? Is it the Gosling Effect?
Are You My Muse?
Maybe we’re drawn to the art form or medium we were engaged in or using when our creative self first hatched, when we first broke out of our shell and felt as if we had somehow emerged.
Perhaps paint somehow imprinted itself in Connie’s heart and mind, while ink did the same in mine.
Maybe Diane found her creative self being hatched while she was looking through the lens of her camera. Maybe mine broke free while spilling ink on a page.
It’s a Free Pond
In any event, I’m glad we’re not all alike. I’m glad we all came from different nests, hatched from different eggs, and found our own creative mothers to bond with.
It makes for a fascinating pond to swim in.
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{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
Wow…interesting thought, Ken. I don’t know that I’m drawn to one particular form of art, but I am particular when it comes to what I use to create. When I draw, I prefer pen to pencil because I can’t stand the scratching sound of the pencil (reminds me of nails on a chalkboard for some reason.) The pen feels more fluid going on to the paper, but I prefer liquid paint above either of those two. When I write, it has to be in pen or typing on the computer.
Great post as usual, Ken.
For many years, I’ve been a writer. When I was a child, though, my ambitions were different.
From age three to eleven, I was always drawing. My subject matter? Monsters and space creatures. Then, Junior High rolled around and I had to take my first true art class.
In class, drawing from the imagination was a no-no. We could sketch only what was in front of us (a person, a chair, a bowl of fruit), and we had to do so in a style of stark realism. Subsequently, I lost all interest in drawing.
A funny development: A few weeks ago, I started blogging and my first posts were text only. Friends said I should jazz them up with photos. As I looked through a stock photo site, I felt the old visual artist in me rear up. Instead of adorning each post was a standard photo, I search for an image that’s slightly left-of-center, just like the old me would do. Finding the proper image has now become my favorite part of blogging.
Mark Levy´s last blog ..Lean-in Moments
In her book The Writing Life, Annie Dillard puts the author’s feelings toward her own work in perspective:
“Another luxury for an idle imagination is the writer’s own feeling about the work. There is neither a proportional relationship, nor an inverse one, between a writer’s estimation of a work in progress and its actual quality.
“The feeling that the work is magnificent, and the feeling that it is abominable, are both mosquitoes to be repelled, ignored, or killed, but not indulged.”
http://talentdevelop.com/3224/
Douglas Eby´s last blog ..Highly sensitive boys and men