Get a little closer

If you aren't already friends with NPR on Facebook, you may have missed this post. Even if you are, you may have skipped it, thinking, 'what does being gay and abstract expressionism have to do with me?'

Quite a bit, it turns out. Go on and read it now...

http://www.npr.org/blogs/13.7/2010/11/18/131431877/on-being-gay-being-out-and-being-art

The concept of thinking, consciously, about the ways we bring all of the world into focus is just too cool not to share. It happens naturally with art, as Alva Noe (author of the NPR post) points out and is part of the profound appeal of spending time in a museum. The interaction between art, viewer and our own perception is one I've felt many times, but haven't really thought about as such. Maybe you know what I mean. It happens every time you stand in front of a stunning example of how an artist has brought the human experience into focus, and you become inescapably part of it. Taking this same museum mindset and applying it other aspects of life is fascinating in its implications.

The question of how close you bring yourself into that experience--how much you embrace it and make it your own varies from person to person. However, this act of looking into or moving closer is also absolutely necessary because there are instances when keeping your distance is damaging. This is where Bishop Swilley comes in--or comes out, as he did recently in an act so brave it became art, according to Noe. Because it forced people to look and bring an aspect of the human experience into focus--and become inescapably part of it.

I love the thought of creating art--or at least an artistic moment--through asking others to step closer and/or stepping closer to them, whether that be emotionally, ideologically or even physically. I love that Noe has equated this interaction with creativity in both senses of that word. Stepping closer to someone/asking others to step closer is always original and innovative. It also creates something irreplaceable. As she suggests, it allows us to learn more about ourselves and our world.

Recently, I've found myself dealing a lot with the tension that exists when I disagree profoundly with something but want to resist turning away completely. I feel this way when I'm listening to the news or despairing the results of the mid-term elections. Other times, I'm in a meeting and trying to find a way to a compromise when all I can really do is lean in closer and hear the person out. Sometimes I feel this way just because I'm in Texas, where the world runs differently than I'm used to. It makes me feel better--and more inclined to put out the effort--after reading Noe's piece. Rather than stifling a long-suffering sigh, I can imagine stretching my creative muscles, making them more pliant, moving toward that place of courage and immediacy where true human art can happen.