Things That Changed Aaron's Life

One of the housemates sometimes likes to ask if something someone is praising changed their life. It's a bit of an overblown phrase - "changed your life" - but there's something to it. Last night I was thinking about this notion in regards to art. We often like talk about the power of art to transform people (cf. Das Leben der Andere), but with regards to particular pieces, more often we speak in terms of objective value or historical significance, rather than personal subjective importance.

So I got to thinking: What works of art have changed my life? Since that can be a rather intangible criteria, I came up with two more specific questions: What works of art have caused me to really sit up and take notice? Or what works do I find myself looking back to and referencing time and again?

Really, I think these are two sides of the same coin; both questions identify works that reveal something heretofore unknown in my experience. These are works that transcend their medium or genre: not, "This is a great painting," but "This is great."

So here are some preliminary lists. I may modify or explicate them in subsequent posts - they are, after all, highly provisional tabulations - but for now, simply laying them down is labor enough.

Things That Changed Aaron's Life

Visual Art:
Bernini, Aeneas, Anchises, and Ascanius
--, Apollo and Daphne
--, David
--, The Rape of Proserpina
Abbott Handerson Thayer, A Virgin

Books:
Homer, The Iliad
uncertain, Song of Songs
Plato, Republic
Shakespeare, Macbeth
Milton, Paradise Lost
Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
Friedrich Nietzsche, On the Advantage and Disadvantage of History for Life
T. S. Eliot, The Four Quartets
C. S. Lewis, A Preface to Paradise Lost
--, Mere Christianity
--, The Chronicles of Narnia
--, The Four Loves
--, A Grief Observed
Martin Heidegger, Building Dwelling Thinking
Josef Pieper, Leisure, the Basis of Culture
--, The Four Cardinal Virtues
J. R. R. Tolkien, Leaf by Niggle
Walter M. Miller, A Canticle for Leibowitz
Michael Shaara, The Killer Angels
Lloyd Alexander, The Prydain Chronicles
George Weigel, Witness to Hope
Stephen Pressfield, Gates of Fire
John Eldredge, Wild at Heart

Music:
Palestrina, various
de Victoria, various
Fauré, Requiem
Rich Mullins, Songs
--, A Liturgy, A Legacy and a Ragamuffin Band
--, Never Picture Perfect
Anonymous 4, An English Ladymass
--, 1000: A Mass for the End of Time
Sufjan Stevens, Seven Swans
Rosie Thomas, These Friends of Mine

Films:
Chariots of Fire
The Mission
Shadowlands
La Vita è bella
Amelie
In America

Opera:
Giacomo Pucini, Gianni Schicchi

Beverages:
Earl Grey tea
Strongbow cider
Stone Arrogant Bastard Ale


PS You might notice that there are far more books than paintings, for example. I guess it's a pretty basic proof that I've spent more time in libraries than in art galleries.

Just Some Thoughts...

For the last six or seven years I have been mulling over a set of issues concerning notions of inspiration, sequencing and different forms of art.

It is fairly common that we describe the relationship between two works of art in a way that is chronological, causal and hierarchic: this painting was inspired by that poem; this novel is the sequel to that one; this opera draws upon that epic.

There is an interesting (and somewhat natural) flow to this process. A painting or other visual form of art often depicts a scene from a story. Less often do you find an entire novel that was inspired by a single work of visual art (or even a series of pieces, such as the collected paintings of Monet). You do, however, sometimes find poetry with inspirations ranging from expansive narratives to very simple visual forms. Song, likewise, seems to be a flexible medium, though obviously certain types of songs - such as operas - are less so.

The process is usually, however, quite linear, monodirectional and hierarchic. If a scene from Homer’s Iliad inspired a particular sculpture, there is a certain sense in which we say the sculpture is indebted to the epic and in that regard, inferior to it. At the very least, no one would suggest that the sculpture would go on to influence how Homer writes his work. And yet, the sculpture might change how we read the epic. So why not break the linearity in more material ways?

What if a community of artists were to produce, as a single project, a corpus of interplaying works of art, with none primary - in time, causality or importance - to another? You will sometimes see an exhibit of visual arts which begin to do this, a series of works which revolve around a central theme and were created at roughly the same time. These, however, do little to transcend the distinctions between various forms of art; at most, such an exhibit might include painting, sculpture and prints, with some carefully selected background music. But what if such a body ran a fuller gamut: drawings, paintings, one-act plays, songs, poems, photographs, short stories?

I can imagine a dozen or two interdisciplinary artists choosing a theme - probably something broad like “fathers and sons” - and, over a course of time, producing an interconnected body of works. They might begin with paintings and drawings. One of these might be of a father with two young boys, walking hand in hand to the beach on a windy day. In a second round of creation, someone might wonder what their background was, going on to writing a short story about a husband who had just lost his wife, and took his boys to the beach in an attempt to raise their flagging spirits. Or was it just his own attempt to keep up appearances and deal with his own grief? This in turn might be picked up in a song or poem, and thence recycled into another drawing. A topic of properly-calibrated breadth would allow the artists to incorporate elements from various works in new and interesting ways.

What would the final product look like? I can imagine a sort of coffee table book, full of short stories and poems, lavishly illustrated with a variety of pictures, and containing the lyrics and music to an accompanying album of music. Is this an elaborate set of notes for the album, or is it just background to the book? Are these stories about a series of pictures, or illustrations to the stories? Such a project would relish such ambiguities, and happily play with them. With imagination, film or other artistic media might be included. (Narrative stories with an appendix of recipes are fairly common amongst certain genre of reading; why not include the culinary arts? Or brewing?)

Admittedly, this is a somewhat artificial way of doing something that happens, to a lesser extent, in the ordinary course of human cultural exchanges. Still, it might be a fun and interesting project, for those involved in its creation or appreciation. Alas, I am afraid I shall probably have to relegate myself to the latter category. But I enjoy just thinking about it.