The Art Of Dreaming
By Claudette Rowley
When is the last time you allowed yourself to dream -- while
you were awake? For some of us, dreaming is a lost art. While as
young children we knew how to dream, over time we can lose touch
with the skill. At the age of 30, 40 or 50, most people discover
that in order to transition to a new life phase, they must
relearn how to dream.
Day dreaming can have a bad reputation as a wasteful, idle,
“pie in the sky” activity – and an optional one. Here’s the
truth: the ability to dream is a life skill and especially a
critical business one. Our dreams carry us to the vision of what
we want, they help us identify core truths and they help us
relate to ourselves and other people.
These are common objections, obstacles and oppositions to
dreaming. Which ones can you relate to?
- Dreaming isn’t realistic.
- If I dream about something I need to make a lifetime
commitment to it.
- I don’t remember how to dream.
- Dreaming is for kids, not adults with responsibilities.
- What’s the value in a dream? I’ll only think about something
that I can’t have.
- I have no idea how to dream; the thought of it makes me tense
and stressed.
- I’m trying to dream and it’s not working.
- Dreamers are people who don’t get anything done.
Dreams assist us to form our identities. When we don’t dream,
we’re cut off from an important part of ourselves – the
unconscious mind that drives much of decision making and action
taking. And the universe does want to help us bring our dreams
to fruition. It’s truly enough to say, “This is my dream. What’s
the next best step?” This request scares some of us. It can
dredge up notions such as, “What am I worth?” “Do I deserve to
have my dreams come true?” “If my dream comes true, do I have to
pay in some other area of life?”
Here’s what I’ve learned: Dreams come equipped with big safety
nets underneath them. And when we consider our dreams carefully,
make the right decisions for us, and understand when to take a
risk and when not to, the net is relatively close to the cliff
that we’ve just leapt off of. But no matter how careful the
consideration, any dream does require a leap of faith into the
unknown. There’s no way to skip this step.
So let’s get dreaming … here are some tips to start your
dreaming process.
-Identify something in your life that excites you. Let’s say
that you’re writing your first short story in ten years. Use
that excitement as a springboard into a dream. If you amplified
your excitement about your short story by ten, one hundred or
one thousand times, what would the dream be? A best selling
novel?
-Stop yourself from making dreaming a chore. You can’t “try” to
dream. You need to let it emerge in your mind, on paper or in
the air – dreams live in the spirit of fun and adventure. “What
if I could live in the house of my dreams? What if I could live
in another country? What if I could become a consultant?”
-Dreaming requires space. Go for a walk, or a drive or a trip
down the grocery aisle (without children). Do anything that
allows your mind to free associate.
-It’s important to remember that just because you dream
something doesn’t mean that you have to commit to it. A dream
can be simply a dream. Notice little kids – they engage in one
passion after the next. As soon as they’ve used up their
passion, they drop it like a hot potato and move on to the next
passion without judging themselves.
-Barbara Sher, the author of Wishcraft and numerous other
books, talks about how you only need to identify one passion to
start dreaming. This is because passion begets passion. One
dream will open the door to the next dream. Knowing this, we can
let go of the idea that a dream needs to be the “right” one.
-Excitement can not be overrated. If you feel excitement about
anything at all, follow the trail and see where it leads you –
there’s probably a dream at the end.
-When you dream, start to notice the feeling around it. Do you
feel excited? Scared? A combination of both? Excitement and fear
or a combination of both are signs that you’re on the right
track.
Reconnecting to your inner dreamer will move your life forward
in new and exciting ways. Dreaming, an internal creative
process, precedes most new ideas that populate our minds.
Everything good starts with a vision -- in truth, fantasy can be
reality. Happy dreaming!
About the Author: Claudette Rowley is a professional coach,
speaker and author who helps savvy professionals identify their
true purpose and mobilize the resources and strategies to pursue
it. Sign up for her free monthly ezine "Insights for the Savvy"
at http://www.metavoice.org or contact her at info@metavoice.org
Source: http://www.isnare.com
Permanent Link: http://www.isnare.com/?aid=182132&ca=Advice
Friday, November 7, 2008
The Art Of Travel And The Art Of Writing
By Mary E. Martin
In Alain de Botton’s engaging book, The Art of Travel, he
distinguishes between the anticipation and recollection of
travel versus the reality of actually traveling.
When we anticipate, we study travel brochures and create in our
imagination all sorts of exotic adventures, lying ahead of us.
Once really there, we photograph the Eiffel Tower with our
friends or family, their arms slung over one another’s shoulders
and grinning into the camera. That forms the recollection, the
moments we choose to remember.
Magically gone from memory are the delayed flight, the lousy
food and the hotel room overlooking the alley, where the garbage
collectors banged tins at 5am. But, if we otherwise enjoy
ourselves, we select those ‘good moments’ and photograph them to
construct a different reality from the real reality.
De Botton’s next idea is fascinating. He says that’s exactly
what the artist does. Whether writing a novel, painting a
picture or scoring a symphony, the artist imagines the outline
of the work [anticipates the delights of the trip] then selects
that which is felt to have artistic value [forgets the garbage
men and includes friends at the Eiffel Tower]. Just as the
traveler now has a fine and satisfying memory of the trip, the
artist has a wonderful novel, painting or musical score. The
artist has created art through imagination, selection, rejection
and combination of artistic elements resulting in something new.
The happy traveler has created a wonderful trip.
Then he tells of a man who had a very peculiar experience.
After feasting his eyes upon paintings by Jan Steen and
Rembrandt, this traveler anticipated beauty, joviality and
simplicity in Holland. Many paintings of laughing, carousing
cavaliers had fixed this image in his mind, along with quaint
houses and canals. But on a trip to Amsterdam and Haarlem, he
was strangely disappointed.
No, according to De Botton, the paintings had not lied.
Certainly, there were a number of jovial people and pretty maids
pouring milk, but the images of them were diluted in this
traveler’s mind, by all the other ordinary, boring things he
saw. Such commonplace items simply did not fit his mental
picture. Thus, reality did not compare to an afternoon of
viewing the works of Rembrandt in a gallery. And why not?
Because Rembrandt and Steen had, by selecting and combining
elements, captured the essence of the beauty of Holland, thereby
intensifying it.
This is exactly what a writer or any artist tries to do and as
a traveler, you may do much the same thing
When writing about a day in your protagonist’s life, you don’t
start with what he had for breakfast or that his car wouldn’t
start unless it’s germane to the plot or his character. You
compress. You select and embellish. You toss out. All the
details of your story must combine to intensify real life in
order to create something interesting and of artistic merit.
When I started writing the first novel in the Osgoode Trilogy,
Conduct in Question, I had to learn it wasn’t necessary to build
the whole city with lengthy descriptions of setting and
character, before Harry Jenkins [the protagonist lawyer] could
do anything. But many nineteenth century novelists did write
numerous pages with glowing descriptions of the Scottish moors
or a county hamlet. And that was necessary because, with the
difficulty of travel, a reader might well need help in picturing
the setting. But today, with the ease of travel, the surfeit of
film, web and television images, no reader needs more than the
briefest description. Just write walking down Fifth Avenue and
the reader immediately gets the picture.
In a novel, usually only the most meaningful, coherent thoughts
are included, unless you are James Joyce, the brilliant stream
of consciousness writer. And so, you as the writer can order
your protagonists thoughts so as to make complete and utter
sense apparently the first time. In the Osgoode Trilogy, the
protagonist, Harry Jenkins, does lots of thinking and analyzing
[the novels are mysteries, after all]. But his coherence of
thought is only produced after much editing and revising. Not
much like real life, you say?
Same for dialogue. Interesting characters in books speak better
and much more on point than people really do, partly because the
writer is able to take back words. In real life, we often wish
in retrospect, if only I had said this or that to set him
straight. No problem for the writer. Hit the delete button and
let him say something truly sharp and incisive.
And so, after comparing what the traveler and the writer do,
what can we conclude? I quote De Botton in the Art of Travel.
The anticipatory and artistic imaginations omit and compress,
they cut away the periods of boredom and direct our attention to
critical moments and, without either lying or embellishing, thus
lend to life vividness and a coherence that it may lack in the
distracting woolliness of the present.
And so therein lies the difference between Art and Life! And
so, the similarity between the traveler and writer.
About the Author: This is the first in a series of articles
about travel and writing by Mary E. Martin, the author of the
Osgoode Trilogy [Conduct in Question, Final Paradox and A Trial
of One]. To sample her writing, please visit
http://www.maryemartin.com and
http://www.authorsden.com/maryemartin.
Source: http://www.isnare.com
Permanent Link: http://www.isnare.com/?aid=131977&ca=Writing
By Mary E. Martin
In Alain de Botton’s engaging book, The Art of Travel, he
distinguishes between the anticipation and recollection of
travel versus the reality of actually traveling.
When we anticipate, we study travel brochures and create in our
imagination all sorts of exotic adventures, lying ahead of us.
Once really there, we photograph the Eiffel Tower with our
friends or family, their arms slung over one another’s shoulders
and grinning into the camera. That forms the recollection, the
moments we choose to remember.
Magically gone from memory are the delayed flight, the lousy
food and the hotel room overlooking the alley, where the garbage
collectors banged tins at 5am. But, if we otherwise enjoy
ourselves, we select those ‘good moments’ and photograph them to
construct a different reality from the real reality.
De Botton’s next idea is fascinating. He says that’s exactly
what the artist does. Whether writing a novel, painting a
picture or scoring a symphony, the artist imagines the outline
of the work [anticipates the delights of the trip] then selects
that which is felt to have artistic value [forgets the garbage
men and includes friends at the Eiffel Tower]. Just as the
traveler now has a fine and satisfying memory of the trip, the
artist has a wonderful novel, painting or musical score. The
artist has created art through imagination, selection, rejection
and combination of artistic elements resulting in something new.
The happy traveler has created a wonderful trip.
Then he tells of a man who had a very peculiar experience.
After feasting his eyes upon paintings by Jan Steen and
Rembrandt, this traveler anticipated beauty, joviality and
simplicity in Holland. Many paintings of laughing, carousing
cavaliers had fixed this image in his mind, along with quaint
houses and canals. But on a trip to Amsterdam and Haarlem, he
was strangely disappointed.
No, according to De Botton, the paintings had not lied.
Certainly, there were a number of jovial people and pretty maids
pouring milk, but the images of them were diluted in this
traveler’s mind, by all the other ordinary, boring things he
saw. Such commonplace items simply did not fit his mental
picture. Thus, reality did not compare to an afternoon of
viewing the works of Rembrandt in a gallery. And why not?
Because Rembrandt and Steen had, by selecting and combining
elements, captured the essence of the beauty of Holland, thereby
intensifying it.
This is exactly what a writer or any artist tries to do and as
a traveler, you may do much the same thing
When writing about a day in your protagonist’s life, you don’t
start with what he had for breakfast or that his car wouldn’t
start unless it’s germane to the plot or his character. You
compress. You select and embellish. You toss out. All the
details of your story must combine to intensify real life in
order to create something interesting and of artistic merit.
When I started writing the first novel in the Osgoode Trilogy,
Conduct in Question, I had to learn it wasn’t necessary to build
the whole city with lengthy descriptions of setting and
character, before Harry Jenkins [the protagonist lawyer] could
do anything. But many nineteenth century novelists did write
numerous pages with glowing descriptions of the Scottish moors
or a county hamlet. And that was necessary because, with the
difficulty of travel, a reader might well need help in picturing
the setting. But today, with the ease of travel, the surfeit of
film, web and television images, no reader needs more than the
briefest description. Just write walking down Fifth Avenue and
the reader immediately gets the picture.
In a novel, usually only the most meaningful, coherent thoughts
are included, unless you are James Joyce, the brilliant stream
of consciousness writer. And so, you as the writer can order
your protagonists thoughts so as to make complete and utter
sense apparently the first time. In the Osgoode Trilogy, the
protagonist, Harry Jenkins, does lots of thinking and analyzing
[the novels are mysteries, after all]. But his coherence of
thought is only produced after much editing and revising. Not
much like real life, you say?
Same for dialogue. Interesting characters in books speak better
and much more on point than people really do, partly because the
writer is able to take back words. In real life, we often wish
in retrospect, if only I had said this or that to set him
straight. No problem for the writer. Hit the delete button and
let him say something truly sharp and incisive.
And so, after comparing what the traveler and the writer do,
what can we conclude? I quote De Botton in the Art of Travel.
The anticipatory and artistic imaginations omit and compress,
they cut away the periods of boredom and direct our attention to
critical moments and, without either lying or embellishing, thus
lend to life vividness and a coherence that it may lack in the
distracting woolliness of the present.
And so therein lies the difference between Art and Life! And
so, the similarity between the traveler and writer.
About the Author: This is the first in a series of articles
about travel and writing by Mary E. Martin, the author of the
Osgoode Trilogy [Conduct in Question, Final Paradox and A Trial
of One]. To sample her writing, please visit
http://www.maryemartin.com and
http://www.authorsden.com/maryemartin.
Source: http://www.isnare.com
Permanent Link: http://www.isnare.com/?aid=131977&ca=Writing
Art Lighting As Art
By Russell Neal
To treat Art lighting as art in and of itself requires first an
understanding of the scientific and aesthetic qualities of
light. Light is a universal constant, because the speed of light
is the fastest velocity in physical reality, and it can neither
be altered nor exceeded. Light always travels in a straight
line, and any obstruction in its path casts a shadow. Light
always reflects to some degree off of any surface, which is what
makes it possible for us to see any work of art. Light also can
fill a space without consuming it, making it possible to use any
form of lighting as art provided the angle of incident is aimed
correctly at the piece. Improper angles will not only create
shadows resulting from light spillage, but they will create
glare as the beam reflects off the surface of the work back
toward the viewer’s eyes.
Because light possesses many qualities that are absolute and
inviolate, it is in one sense impossible to completely eliminate
glare and shadow, because no matter what you do, some light is
going to reflect off the piece, and sooner or later, the light
will encounter some sort of obstruction that casts a shadow. A
skillful art lighting company who specializes in designing light
as art understands this, and rather than engage in the futile
attempt to eliminate glare and shadow in defiance of the laws of
physics, works instead in harmony with Nature’s laws and seeks
to position any resulting glare and shadow outside of the
viewer’s line of sight.
The old cliché "Out of sight, out of mind," rings very true
when approaching artwork lighting as an art form unique unto
itself.
To accomplish this, it is necessary to understand angles from a
three-dimensional, as opposed to a two-dimensional, point of
view. Light striking the surface of any art, including modern
contemporary art from a nearby fixture constitutes one angle of
incident. The reflected light coming back to the observer
constitutes a second. The two must be measured carefully in
relation to one another if one is to determine the appropriate
position of any lighting fixture. If the right balance is
struck, then reflective glare and resulting shadow will be
hidden from his or her line of sight, allowing for an
uninhibited experience of light and art from that particular
viewing angle.
This calls for the art lighting designer to take a number of
factors into account when installing an picture or art lighting
system. First, the designer has to pinpoint all points of
observation within a room where viewers will possibly be
standing when they view various works. These points vary greatly
based upon the environment and the type of room involved.
Vantage points in museums are vastly different from those in
office foyers and private living rooms. Secondly, the designer
has to look at the surface of the art itself to assess its
reflective qualities. High-end photography and certain forms of
paint cause the surface of the image to have a “sheen” that acts
as a virtual mirror, casting not only reflected color back into
the eyes, but portions of the light beam itself. Dimmable,
recessed art lighting is often required for such artwork in
order to disperse illumination sufficiently not to shine back
into the eyes.
Finally, one very important element to art lighting as art that
many fail to even consider is the size and type of frame housing
the piece in residential art designs. Light from a fixture that
is placed too high will actually be blocked by the upper lip of
the frame and cast what is called a “frame shadow” over the
work. Something as simple as adjusting the level of the painting
can often remedy this problem, although in formal galleries this
may not be an option, and special fixtures with complex
reflectors and filters may be needed to create a more indirect
“wash” of luminance that results in both painting and frame
being bathed in a radiant field of light as opposed to a bright
beam of focused, direct light.
Perhaps one of the best tools available to art lighting
consultants is a high-end art projector that allows for a
variety of lighting level adjustments, advanced lighting filters
and special reflectors, and the ability to proportionately size
a beam to the precise dimensions of a work. While this does not
completely eliminate glare and shadow (which the laws of physics
mandate are inevitable with any form of lighting), it does give
the collector or curator more power to control these negative
elements, or in some cases, even turn them into art lighting
attributes.
For example, many painters such as Goya, and certain genres
such as surrealism, rely upon shadows to emphasize themes
connected to the dark side of man, or the apparent duality of
Nature itself. Placing too much light on such artwork will
diminish its statement by overriding elements of shadow that the
artist intended to be present. Phantom art lighting projectors
can be dimmed and adjusted for such works so as to create a
“lighted from within” effect that preserves the artist’s use of
dark elements and negative images, providing just enough
visibility for the viewer to see the work and its key aesthetic
elements.
In a philosophical sense, we might say then that even darkness
comes from light, and reality is more of a variation in
luminance instead of a contrast between light and absence of
light. Art challenges our thinking in much the same manner,
forcing us to confront a world of color, light, and shadow that
coalesce together in often-ambiguous patterns that force us to
question our view of the world and explore the unknown through
the eyes of the artist. The same hold true when designing and
installing and designing landscape lighting.
To light art, you must understand both light and art, and art
as light from the vantage point of a trained consultant. While
becoming a consultant may take years of training and practice,
with the help of a qualified electrical contractor, you can
achieve the same results through partnership and dialogue with
an expert.
About the Author: Illuminations Lighting and Design
multi-specializes in a variety of indoor, outdoor, high-end, and
landscape lighting design services. ILD is also a licensed
electrical design and repair firm. Visit
http://www.illuminationslighting.com for more details.
Source: http://www.isnare.com
Permanent Link:
http://www.isnare.com/?aid=245464&ca=Arts+and+Crafts
By Russell Neal
To treat Art lighting as art in and of itself requires first an
understanding of the scientific and aesthetic qualities of
light. Light is a universal constant, because the speed of light
is the fastest velocity in physical reality, and it can neither
be altered nor exceeded. Light always travels in a straight
line, and any obstruction in its path casts a shadow. Light
always reflects to some degree off of any surface, which is what
makes it possible for us to see any work of art. Light also can
fill a space without consuming it, making it possible to use any
form of lighting as art provided the angle of incident is aimed
correctly at the piece. Improper angles will not only create
shadows resulting from light spillage, but they will create
glare as the beam reflects off the surface of the work back
toward the viewer’s eyes.
Because light possesses many qualities that are absolute and
inviolate, it is in one sense impossible to completely eliminate
glare and shadow, because no matter what you do, some light is
going to reflect off the piece, and sooner or later, the light
will encounter some sort of obstruction that casts a shadow. A
skillful art lighting company who specializes in designing light
as art understands this, and rather than engage in the futile
attempt to eliminate glare and shadow in defiance of the laws of
physics, works instead in harmony with Nature’s laws and seeks
to position any resulting glare and shadow outside of the
viewer’s line of sight.
The old cliché "Out of sight, out of mind," rings very true
when approaching artwork lighting as an art form unique unto
itself.
To accomplish this, it is necessary to understand angles from a
three-dimensional, as opposed to a two-dimensional, point of
view. Light striking the surface of any art, including modern
contemporary art from a nearby fixture constitutes one angle of
incident. The reflected light coming back to the observer
constitutes a second. The two must be measured carefully in
relation to one another if one is to determine the appropriate
position of any lighting fixture. If the right balance is
struck, then reflective glare and resulting shadow will be
hidden from his or her line of sight, allowing for an
uninhibited experience of light and art from that particular
viewing angle.
This calls for the art lighting designer to take a number of
factors into account when installing an picture or art lighting
system. First, the designer has to pinpoint all points of
observation within a room where viewers will possibly be
standing when they view various works. These points vary greatly
based upon the environment and the type of room involved.
Vantage points in museums are vastly different from those in
office foyers and private living rooms. Secondly, the designer
has to look at the surface of the art itself to assess its
reflective qualities. High-end photography and certain forms of
paint cause the surface of the image to have a “sheen” that acts
as a virtual mirror, casting not only reflected color back into
the eyes, but portions of the light beam itself. Dimmable,
recessed art lighting is often required for such artwork in
order to disperse illumination sufficiently not to shine back
into the eyes.
Finally, one very important element to art lighting as art that
many fail to even consider is the size and type of frame housing
the piece in residential art designs. Light from a fixture that
is placed too high will actually be blocked by the upper lip of
the frame and cast what is called a “frame shadow” over the
work. Something as simple as adjusting the level of the painting
can often remedy this problem, although in formal galleries this
may not be an option, and special fixtures with complex
reflectors and filters may be needed to create a more indirect
“wash” of luminance that results in both painting and frame
being bathed in a radiant field of light as opposed to a bright
beam of focused, direct light.
Perhaps one of the best tools available to art lighting
consultants is a high-end art projector that allows for a
variety of lighting level adjustments, advanced lighting filters
and special reflectors, and the ability to proportionately size
a beam to the precise dimensions of a work. While this does not
completely eliminate glare and shadow (which the laws of physics
mandate are inevitable with any form of lighting), it does give
the collector or curator more power to control these negative
elements, or in some cases, even turn them into art lighting
attributes.
For example, many painters such as Goya, and certain genres
such as surrealism, rely upon shadows to emphasize themes
connected to the dark side of man, or the apparent duality of
Nature itself. Placing too much light on such artwork will
diminish its statement by overriding elements of shadow that the
artist intended to be present. Phantom art lighting projectors
can be dimmed and adjusted for such works so as to create a
“lighted from within” effect that preserves the artist’s use of
dark elements and negative images, providing just enough
visibility for the viewer to see the work and its key aesthetic
elements.
In a philosophical sense, we might say then that even darkness
comes from light, and reality is more of a variation in
luminance instead of a contrast between light and absence of
light. Art challenges our thinking in much the same manner,
forcing us to confront a world of color, light, and shadow that
coalesce together in often-ambiguous patterns that force us to
question our view of the world and explore the unknown through
the eyes of the artist. The same hold true when designing and
installing and designing landscape lighting.
To light art, you must understand both light and art, and art
as light from the vantage point of a trained consultant. While
becoming a consultant may take years of training and practice,
with the help of a qualified electrical contractor, you can
achieve the same results through partnership and dialogue with
an expert.
About the Author: Illuminations Lighting and Design
multi-specializes in a variety of indoor, outdoor, high-end, and
landscape lighting design services. ILD is also a licensed
electrical design and repair firm. Visit
http://www.illuminationslighting.com for more details.
Source: http://www.isnare.com
Permanent Link:
http://www.isnare.com/?aid=245464&ca=Arts+and+Crafts
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