When I was in college, I was going to be a musician. In fact, I think I had plans to be a famous rock star, though of course in a non-commercial, very Bohemian sort of way. My roommate and I formed a band, which (in my opinion at least) wasn’t half-bad. We played covers, but also some original material I had written. I’ve written music for everything from jazz band to symphony orchestra to solo piano to, of course, rock band. I don’t do the music thing anymore, having decided to pursue the written word instead.
My sister, on the other hand, is an artist. I shared an apartment with her briefly my first year of college - she, the painter, and me, the musician. She has since moved to photography, but her chosen medium, visual art, remains the same. I have always remembered a particular conversation I had with her once concerning the differences between our respective art forms. I was speaking about music, but the conversation can be applied to writing as well.
I had expressed resentment that someone could just look at one of her paintings and experience it, while in order for them to enjoy one of my works they would have to set some time aside and experience it from beginning to end. Someone could decide she was a great artist in the space of a few seconds, but it would take them several minutes at least to make up their minds about me. I envied her that (and in many ways I think I still do.)
She, on the other hand, had actually wished for a way for people to experience her paintings over the course of a span of time, instead of all at once. She was interested in finding a way to extend the experience of art appreciation over time, and she envied me the fact that my art ‘took time.’ It’s an interesting division between the two. Art such as photography is very ‘now’ while music and writing are not grounded so much in the present.
Of course, one can argue that it doesn’t take long enough to experience the written word, as well. Being neck-deep (and treading water frantically) in my own novel, I can completely sympathize with the point of view that it is unfair that readers can read so quickly what it takes writers so long to write. I’m a speed-reader, and I must admit I sometimes feel guilty for being able to go so quickly through someone else’s blood, sweat and tears.
But the fact remains that a book can not be experienced in a glance (a definite bummer sometimes, given my current want-to-read list.) It must be experienced sequentially, word after word, page after page, chapter after chapter. If it’s a good book, you lose track of who and where you are and become part of the story.
But isn’t that the mark of true art, no matter what the medium? When it takes you away from who you are and makes you more than you were, isn’t that art? Isn’t that what we, as artists, strive for? Does it matter whether it takes a moment, or an hour, or a month?
Which do you prefer?
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