We see things not as they are, but as we are.

A talk about beauty from TED:

A story, a work of art, a face, a designed object — how do we
tell that something is beautiful? And why does it matter so much to us? Designer
Richard Seymour explores our response to beauty and the surprising power of
objects that exhibit it.

This story wouldn’t be as profound without the image that goes with it.

I pulled this story from the here.

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children.

In order merely to keep food on the table for this big family, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighbourhood.

Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder’s children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.

They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg.

Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht’s etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.

When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht’s triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honoured position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfil his ambition. His closing words were, “And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you.”

All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, “No …no …no …no.”

Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, “No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look … look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The ones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother … for me it is too late.”

More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer’s hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver point sketches, water-colours, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer’s works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.

The reward of going through trials is the opportunity to shed dead weight, reevaluate and redirect your life. That is what I’m attempting to do. I firmly believe that the years and relationships before me are going to be the richest, most rewarding of my life. I’m going into it with hope tempered by a healthy fringe of fear.

And part of that, I hope, will be a resurrection of my photographic and artistic effort. I cleared out the pottery area, bought some new clay and bought a new camera which I’m going to carry everywhere. I set up an art room, the primary purpose of which was to have a dedicated area to sit down and work. Then my kids invaded and it is less than ideal. The joy of having kids. Now, I just need to do…

It all comes down to doing.

He remembered as though it were but a few days ago that winter night, himself too young even to know the meaning of beauty, when he had looked up at a delicate tracery of bare black branches against the icy glittering stars; suddenly something that was, all at once, pain and longing and adoring had welled up in him, almost choking him. He had wanted to tell someone, but he had no words, inarticulate in that pain and glory. (pg 16)

He had been wont to despise emotions: girls were emotional, girls were weak, emotions – tears – were weakness. But this morning he was thinking that being a great brain in a tower, nothing but a brain, wouldn’t be much fun. No excitement, no dog to love, no joy in the blue sky – no feelings at all. But feelings – feelings are emotions! He was suddenly overwhelmed by the revelation that what makes life worth living is, precisely, the emotions. But, then – this was awful! – maybe girls with their tears and laughter were getting more out of life. Shattering! He checked himself: showing one’s emotions more was not the thing: having them was. Still, he was dizzy with revelation. What is beauty but something that is responded to with emotion? … But if the best of life is, in fact, emotional, then one wanted the highest, purest emotions: and that meant joy. Joy was the highest. How did one find joy?… if he wanted the heights of joy, he must have, if he could find it, a great love. But in the books again, great joy through love seemed always to go hand in hand with frightful pain… If there were a choice – and he suspected there was – a choice between, on the one hand, the heights and the depths and, on the other hand, some sort of safe, cautious middle way, he, for one, here and now chose the heights and the depths. (pg 17-18)

Here’s a picture of me and my Dad when I was about 2, going fishing. Love this image.

Here’s a couple of B&W’s I did from images I shot while I was supporting my son’s 50 mile bike ride between Stanley and Lowman.

This is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen. This is the kind of event that shows the beauty we are capable of as a people. We get so caught up in the killing and the horrors, of our worship of the cult of the rich and the popular we forget the simple power of the masses to create something so beautiful.

A virtual choir – thousands of normal people all around the world who join together via the internet brought together by an idea and a shared love.

This first video is Eric Whitacre’s description of how this came to be.

The second is his first piece, Lux Aurumque – 185 people from 12 countries.

The third is his second piece, Sleep – 2052 people from 58 countries.

This last piece is in remembrance of Easter, in honor of the God of us all.

How Great Thou Art by Carrie Underwood and Vince Gill.

Happy Easter all.

Jake Shimabukuro plays ‘Bohemian Rhapsody on a Ukulele at TED.

MILTON GLASER DRAWS & LECTURES from C. Coy on Vimeo.

This explains fundamentally why I’ve never been content with photography as a medium of expression. I’ve always felt I was lacking something important. As I’ve worked on my drawing over the past few months what Mr. Glaser says here has become more and more clear to me.

Photography is a medium of discovery. You look for patterns and moments of meaning within nature and within mankind. And you capture them in that moment. In photography I look for the wholeness of the compostion – the relationship of the parts within the frame.

Drawing is a medium of observation. You examine, understand, explore and capture the details of the object. There is a depth there I don’t find in photography. Which, honestly, is what makes it difficult for me to sit down and do it. It takes a serious commitment in time and effort to draw. While with a camera I watch and when I see it – I aim, compose shot and walk on. The commitment there is to carry a camera and to constantly watch.

It’s called Photosmith.

They’re looking to have it on the Apple Store the first week in April. I’m excited!

In this exercise she introduces setting a ground – toning the paper with a layer of graphite. That establishes the mid range. Lines and shading build the shadows, removing the ground provides the highlights. Surprisingly simpler than building everything from a white sheet. And she has us start using the picture plane:

This helps a great deal in translating the 3D image to a 2D representation in my mind. And it helps in visually recognizing angle and size relationships. I have to admit though – I’ve used it in previous exercises – the book shelf in the corner. I don’t think I could have got the angles near as close on that one if I hadn’t used the picture plane. There are some very subtle relationships in that image that I couldn’t see until I used the plane.

Exercise 9 was a revisit of drawing a hand. I did that as one of her pre-instruction images in Exercise 1. These are a distinct improvement.

The pre-instruction sketch:

Two new hand sketches, using the ground and picture frame, and a little more time and effort:

My finger appears to have healed since the first one.