Why make art?

A perfectly valid question that uses art, I think, in it’s broadest sense and includes fiction. Or at least it does in my head.

The question was not asked of me (I saw it in the twitter stream), I’m not sure if anyone other than perhaps friends/family would be interested in my view and I think I may have partially addressed this in an earlier post. Still: it got me thinking. Why do I keep on writing and spending large amounts of time at this? Has my position shifted?

I thought of five reasons. Yes, it’s another list. Here goes:

1. Sanity – The glib answer I used to give was that writing was my way of taking my overactive thought processes and forcing them to consider something other than the day job. This was a nice, safe answer that didn’t carry with it any expectation of success and was, born out by my Myers Briggs profile, at least partially true. However, there are still occasions where the day job or specifically thinking about the day job can derail my creative efforts. And it provides no explanation for why I put my work “out there”.

2. Please myself - Very true. However, doing it just for yourself is a little to close to mental masturbation and again, more importantly, you’d never put the work out there for anyone to see. I get a kick out of it but that’s not the whole game.

3. It’s the way I’m wired – Also true. I have written stories since I could pick up a pen and often it’s the only way I make sense of the world around me. As a race we are, arguably, pre-programmed to acquire language and to spot patterns and to problem solve. Stories are, to a certain line of thinking, the by-product of evolutionary features such as imagination, communication and pattern recognition. Yet not everyone writes (although sometimes it feels like they do) and to reduce it all down to wiring feels too reductive. I don’t buy it.

4. God gives you a talent and you should use it – Sorry, no. This is just a variation on 3 with evolution substituted for God (or vice versa depending on your belief system) and it’s still reductive. Moreover, we’re in to a whole quagmire of how do you define talent and should you only do something if you’re immediately successful at it and I’m an atheist so let’s just move one.

5. Connection – Ah yes. There you are. There is nothing on this earth – in my humble opinion – like creating something that didn’t exist before and having another human being respond in surprise/delight/awe/shock/connection. To have taken something from your skull and transmitted it into someone else’s cranium. Each of us is encased in a fleshy prison of solitary confinement, bumping occasionally against each others’ cells, through art we can reach our fellow captives – we can even be touched by those artists who have long since made their escape. It’s telepathy, it’s magic, it’s fucking awesome.

And that’s why I do it.

Shiny

Prayer for the Shiny:

Shiny, who art encased in metal or plastic,
Hallowed be thy circuitry.
Thy functionality amazes.
Thy reassuring weight soothes,
In pocket as it is in the hand.
Give us this day our free firmware patches.
And forgive us our hacks,
As we occasionally forgive those who leave bugs.
And lead us not into Microsoft,
But deliver us from DRM.
For thine is the shiny,
and the power-charger, and the eyestrain,
for ever and ever.
Ah, where’s my credit card?

Oh Well

I happened by this on YouTube and had to post it as my father is a Fleetwood Mac fan.

This looks to be the nearest thing to an original line up the band had, complete with the great Peter Green. One of my favourite songs growing up, enjoy:

Friday Flash Fiction: Still Rising

This post has now moved. You can read it here: http://www.neilbeynon.com/fiction/still-rising .

Due to Internet fail I am posting this using the equivalent of smoke signals. It may look a mess.

Still Rising
By Neil Beynon

“Where are you going?”

Fahl stopped at the foot of the stairs, turning to the speaker with the creak of age as old as the tower he intended to walk up. It was Lumin staring defiantly back at him, his robes freshly pressed and his bright blue eyes gleaming in the torch light. Fahl sighed and leant on the rail that lined the stairs, in his other hand a long stone knife gleamed.

“Where are you going?” repeated Lumin.

“To do what must be done.”

“The city is no longer under siege Fahl.”

…You can read the full story here: http://www.neilbeynon.com/fiction/still-rising

Smile

A quote from Michael Sheen on The Guardian made me smile:

“You could imagine a character on some kids show called Mrs Discombobulation – and in a truly Welsh sense it’s trying to get as many syllables into a word as you possibly can.”

Migraine

I have one, tail end now. It’s delayed my review.

Brief observation: anyone else noticed the recent surge in UK fear stories regarding terrororist attacks?

If the UK government is so worried why are there still bins in Central London? I remember a lot less squawking in the 80s when I was growing up and a lot less bins. Of course there was more litter.

Also: constant threat of nuclear annihilation. That’s gone now. I mean it’s not like there’s an ex-KGB agent in charge of a stockpile of weapons, or a Chicago academic with a weak voting record and poor choice in jokes on another pile, or a country on the brink of destabilisation with it’s own arsenal and an equally armed hostile neighbour.

Naturally, we should be afraid of the bearded fanatic in the cave. Glad we cleared that up.

Sarcastic? Moi?

Manic Monday

Being lazy again, surprised to come across this acoustic version:

And written by Prince but you knew that. Oh, you knew that.

I’ll get me coat.

Along the river

A short one this evening as I have some bits to do.

I’m pleased to report the ride to Greenwich went well following a shaky start. My lack lustre fitness and the cold weather this morning meant I was really feeling it by the time I got a short mile down the road to Plumstead, I wasn’t sure I’d even make it to Woolwich. However, a bit of sun goes a long way and by the time I reached the rather more forgiving flat runs between Woolwich and Greenwich (OK the slight downward incline helped) I was enjoying myself. The weather was glorious by the time I got to Greenwich.

It was that fun time of day in London when the sun’s been up for a few hours but most of the city are still in bed and so Greenwich was quiet. I meandered down by the river for a while soaking up the rare rays and watching the rowers go past on a training run. If I had any foresight I would have brought a book and lain down on the hill in the park for a few hours. But I don’t have any foresight and so I drank my rest drink and hit the pedals to go home. Oddly the ride back wasn’t as taxing despite being nearly all up hill. It felt a little like I’d broken the cobwebs off my legs.

Anyway, it was pleasing to have the endorphin rush from actual exercise and I amused myself with an afternoon at the flix (review to follow later in the week). I have realised my assertion yesterday was correct: I’m not fit enough to attempt a regular city run yet. But I survived and next week I may even venture further afield.

Now I must get back to G – haven’t seen her all day.

Granny Wheel

No, I haven’t been making vehicles out of Grannies.

For reasons to dull to go into, including South Eastern pricing this year, I’ve decided to experiment one last time with commuting by bike. For those who don’t know this was my preferred way of travelling when I lived in Bow but my brief experiment with it in Abbey Wood was not successful. I’m not sure if it was the distance or just my foolishness in failing to work up to it as if I hadn’t had a year long gap. Anyway, I am resolved to give it another go.

Today I spent the morning digging out all my old gear, surprised and delighted to find it all in good order. The bike needed a minor service but everything seems to be working fine now its been shown some TLC and I was reassured by how my old workhorse had stood up. Anyway, it’s always best with bikes to give them a gentle run-in after a period of disuse and so I took my bike out on a short circuit around the block.

Did I mention I live on a hill?

I was feeling quite please with myself as the bike slipped up the hill in a reasonably high gear. I was feeling less clever as I got to the junction onto Bostall hill and positively wretched as I clawed my way towards the heath using the shamed granny wheel to move marginally quicker than the actual granny I only just overtook. I was so relieved to coast down the hill towards Macleod Road that it was hard to tell what was burning more: my thighs or my face.

I am out of shape.

The last time I successfully commuted by bike it took me about a month to get to the stage where I could handle the distance because I was so out of shape. I swore to myself I wouldn’t get into that position again but here I am, worse than I was the last time. Oddly I don’t feel cross. I think it’s because I know how to get out of it this time. It’s just a case of building up. Tomorrow I will venture further afield to Greenwich, early to avoid the traffic, and see if I can manage a medium length ride.

We’ll see.

Happy Birthday War

It’s the sixth anniversary of the second war in Iraq. About all the excuse I need to post Mitch Benn’s video What I Quite Enjoy:

Mitch’s Iron Maiden pastiche from last week’s Now Show is a thing of beauty, you can probably still get it on iplayer or itunes. Mitch is also on Twitter, there are worse people to follow – me for instance.