I've been a longtime fan of the cartoonist Lynda Barry, whose quirky view of the world is amusing and spot-on at the same time.  Over the years Ann and I have collected many of her comic collections and a few years ago we attended and enjoyed immmensely the Off–Broadway performance of her play, "The Good Times Are Killing Me."

When I saw that she had put together a book about creativity entitled "What It Is," I immediately ordered it.  Though it's not quite what I expected (typical Lynda Barry) it's crammed with doodles, comic characters and pithy observations on creativity.

Here's one such pearl of wisdom:

"It took a long time to realize that I didn't need to be in the mood to move my brush before I picked it up," she writes. "All I needed to do was move the brush and my mood would follow the trail."

I've been reading Andre Agassi book "Open" about his life in tennis.  I really don't care much about tennis but his story is really more about a life of dedication to perfecting a craft, though tragically, the impetus to do so comes from Agassi' domineering father and Agassi' desire to please him.

And just a few nights after starting the book, I viewed a fascinating biopic on legendary football coach Vince Lombardi, infamous for once declaring: " Winning isn't everything, it's the only thing."

One feels equal parts admiration and pity for these men: admiration for the achievements and success they realized by a relentless pursuit of perfection, and pity for what they ultimately sacrifice to achieve this perfect state.

One comes away from these accounts asking: "Can excellence be realized in a more balanced way?"  No one would argue that discipline, persistence and sacrifice are necessary at times in order to achieve objectives.  But where does the cost begin to outweigh the benefit?  Where is the sweet spot?

I was watching an Ovation channel program on photographers, including Jay Maisel, the fiercly bright, opinionated and prolific photographer who was talking about the reason he photographs: because he loves the beauty of the subject (I'm paraphrasing here).  He then went on to say that the resulting photograph is really just an after-effect of that love: "The product is the byproduct."

This week's NEW YORKER has this snippet worth sharing.  It's part of a 1964 transcript from the trial of one Josef Brodsky, a twenty-three-year-old poet arrested by the KGB and charged with "malicious parasitism."

JUDGE: And what is your profession?
BRODSKY: Poet. Poet and translator.
JUDGE: And who told you that you were a poet? Who assigned you that rank?
BRODSKY: No one.  (Non-confrontationally.) Who assigned me to the human race?
JUDGE: And did you study for this?
BRODSKY: For what?
JUDGE: To become a poet. Did you try to attend a school where they train [poets]…. where they teach….
BRODSKY: I don't think it comes from education.
JUDGE: From what, then?
BRODSKY: I think it's….(at a loss)…. from God.

According to some, and I don't disagree, my last post may have been a bit heavy.  Though I stand by the sentiment, there may be better ways of expressing it.

Visited St. Petersburg, FL recently and was encouraged by the renaissance of art, esp. in the 600 block of Central Avenue, where we acquired some works by the very talented and prolific Coralette Damme, aka the Crafty Hag. (http://www.craftyhag.com)

On her website we came across an unattributed quote that expresses in different terms, the sentiment expressed by William Carlos Williams, but with a bit more levity and joie de vivre:

"“Without art, we’re all just monkeys with car keys.”

Exactly.

"It is difficult to get the news from poems, yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there."

William Carlos Williams

… and what is found there is the essence of any creative endeavor…

"… the most expensive thing in life is free time for creative expression.”