This past week, I have been pondering the unknown artist. I have been thrown into busy times with the editing of the Hong Kong Art Guide and connecting with curators, artists and critics across China. But somehow, amid all this furious activity, a message has been coming in to me... I have started to notice the artists out there who do not lay claim to their work.
Earlier this week I came across this wonderful blog by an anonymous Kadampa practitioner. It's beautifully written--the writer could easily get book deals--and I was struck that we didn't know who was behind it. I asked myself, could I pour my heart into a project, and not claim it as my own? And then I thought of all those monks and nuns who shave their heads and don robes and let go of their name with all its lifetime of clinging, and walk into a new life where they simply serve others.
Yesterday afternoon, I met for tea with Portland's former Poet Laureate, a fascinating character named Steve Luttrell who I had bumped into at the Maine Festival of the Book. He's the founder of The Cafe Review, and as we sat there and discussed the merging of writing and Buddhism, he brought up the topic of the ancient Zen poets of China who used to write their greatest lines of poetry, then scrunch the paper up and toss it into a river.
Could I write my best work, and then throw it into a river?
I think it's a good question to ask ourselves as writers or artists... because it makes us start to realize the intention behind the work. Am I doing this because I want to become famous and respected... or am I willing to pour my heart into a project, and then release it to the wind? Am I willing to just give?
As if to close the week-long musing on this topic, this morning I watched a short interview with Frank Gehry as he spoke about his groovy new creation that lies nestled in the folks of The Peak in Hong Kong. When asked about his distinctive style that is so recognizable, he brought up the unknown artist behind the The Charioteer of Delphi. "Artist unknown... that's what we should aim towards," said Gehry. "That's the Mount Everest".
Photo: Wiki Commons
Yesterday afternoon, I met for tea with Portland's former Poet Laureate, a fascinating character named Steve Luttrell who I had bumped into at the Maine Festival of the Book. He's the founder of The Cafe Review, and as we sat there and discussed the merging of writing and Buddhism, he brought up the topic of the ancient Zen poets of China who used to write their greatest lines of poetry, then scrunch the paper up and toss it into a river.
Could I write my best work, and then throw it into a river?
I think it's a good question to ask ourselves as writers or artists... because it makes us start to realize the intention behind the work. Am I doing this because I want to become famous and respected... or am I willing to pour my heart into a project, and then release it to the wind? Am I willing to just give?
As if to close the week-long musing on this topic, this morning I watched a short interview with Frank Gehry as he spoke about his groovy new creation that lies nestled in the folks of The Peak in Hong Kong. When asked about his distinctive style that is so recognizable, he brought up the unknown artist behind the The Charioteer of Delphi. "Artist unknown... that's what we should aim towards," said Gehry. "That's the Mount Everest".
Photo: Wiki Commons
