musing on
the muse

[number two. 1. 5. 08]

This is the second issue of musing on the muse, my new monthly newsletter about creativity. If you don't want to receive more musings, click this  unsubscribe link. On the other hand, you can forward this to anyone you think might be interested. If this was forwarded to you, you'll need to subscribe  to receive future issues.

 

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Make Your Own Art!

In 1909, 364,545 pianos were sold in the United States; in 1996, the number was 84,346 – including electronic models. In 1909, I imagine, it wouldn’t have been unusual to spend the evening around one of those 364,545 pianos, singing with friends or family songs like  "Where My Caravan Has Rested,"   or  "If The Wind Had Only Blown The Other Way."   When’s the last time you spent an evening singing with people?

For many of us, it’s old news that, since industrialization, we’ve pretty much turned most of those activities that fall under the rubric of art over to professionals. If you’re not a professional, which usually means getting paid, you’re categorized as an amateur.  The word amateur used to mean “one who has a taste for (something)” coming from the French, “lover of.” In 1786, though, its meaning changed to “dabbler”1

I’m convinced that this is one of the greatest shortcomings of our modern western culture. We’ve relinquished to professionals the art-making that was once an integral part of humans’ personal and communal lives. 

I’m not an anthropologist and can’t say whether the idea of edenic, pre-industrial, non-patriarchal indigenous societies is a literal truth or a metaphor. Either way, the model of a society that spends as much time as it can creating beautiful objects – practical and ceremonial – singing, dancing, telling stories together and praising existence,  is one that makes sense to me.

The impulse to engage in collective art-making endures in various sub-cultures – ethnic or new age – that value music-making and dance. Some people insist on becoming passionate amateurs, developing their particular skills well past professional standards, while refusing to commodify their art. Nevertheless, mainstream America tends to marginalize these tendencies.

My latest blog posting  explores how this struggle has played out in my own life.

Meanwhile, I’d like to offer some delightfully subversive countermeasures to the segregation and trivialization of “non-professional” art and creativity. 

try this:
Sitting comfortably with a friend, spouse or date, start speaking one word at a time, in turn, letting the words form sentences and, eventually, become a story.

Tips:

Often what’s needed is a very simple, “boring” word like “the” or “was” so you don’t have  to be clever or inventive. Listen to what’s unfolding and supply a word that can easily keep the sentence unfolding.  If your partner starts with “Once”  the next word could be “upon” or “there” but probably not “elephant” or “zucchini”  lovely as those words might be. Don’t anticipate or try to control  how the story is going to unfold. The fun is in the surprises that happen when both players surrender to the third thing that’s unfoldinWg between the two of you. Click here for more ways of playing creatively with others.

 

 

I'm continuing to work
with the spoken word
form and have just
uploaded a rough draft of
Nakhman's Method
a piece about the
difficulties of prayer. 
Click here to listen

 

 

 

from corey's students and clients:

"when I became overwhelmed with self-criticism, he worked with me in a way that was both loving and effective."

“I wanted to be surprised – to be changed – and that’s what I received.”

“The work was shamanic.”

“he models how to relate to the creative force.”

“nurturing and  rigorous.”

“he unlocked confidence I didn't know I had."

 

click here if you'd like to find out more about working with corey

 

I heartily recommend Nina Wise’s vital and practical book:

A Big New Free Happy Unusual Life: Self Expression and Spiritual Practice for Those Who Have Time for Neither

It's full of delightful enticements to live artfully and bring play into all your relationships, drawn from Nina's years as a boundary-breaking improviser, performance artist and teacher of art and Dharma.

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