Creativity - Set in Stone at Opus 40 (and finding yours)

Who can pinpoint where creativity begins or say where it will take the person who allows it into their life? I don't agree with the cliche that 'everyone is an artist' - the talent, perseverance, etc., etc., required to earn that title by a serious committed life in art is not so easy to come by - but every person does contain the capacity to be creative. I would even say that every person has the potential to make, build, or institute something of lasting creative significance for themselves and others. (See note at the end about an opportunity to develop your creativity through a wonderful program.) All this came to mind when I was once again up in the Hudson Valley for great music (see last week's post - this time it was the SummerScape Festival at Bard College) - and once again, happily, had an unexpected, fascinating encounter. Playing hooky one morning from Sibelius, my husband and I followed a back road in the town of Saugerties, lured deep into the woods by a chance notice. At the end of that road we discovered Opus 40, an astonishing site that was added to the Registry of Historic Places in 2001. We pulled into the parking lot and found, first, a ramshackle barn containing a museum of tools, then a split log family house, and finally, to our amazement, a construction that took my breath away as the view opened up and I realized the scope of it. Against a backdrop of Catskill mountains and cloudy sky, I witnessed a creative obsession winding, climbing, and twisting across the remains of an old bluestone quarry, built entirely of that blue-grey material like some ancient Pre-Columbian city. The man behind Opus 40 was Harvey Fite (1903-1976), a sculptor and professor at Bard College, who had started out to be a lawyer, tried the seminary, had a short acting career, and then discovered his true passion for making - making things - three-dimensional, hard, material, things. Opus 40 isn't just a work of art, an installation - it was and is Harvey Fite's life. He wasn't part of any movement or group, though he's now considered a pioneer of the Environmental Movement of the 70's, and the most important show of his work was almost certainly the posthumous tribute in 1977 at the Hirshhorn Museum. If Andy Goldsworthy wasn't inspired by him, he should have been. Part of Fite's inspiration came from his encounter with, in fact, the Pre-Columbian Mayans, after he helped with restoration work in Honduras. When he came home he used the same, mortar free techniques in building Opus 40. Near the entrance it mounts to a high viewpoint crowned by a standing stone - the Monolith -  then broad sloping paths lead you away, past deep crevices, around smooth, tailored walls, as neat and tidy as cross-stitch work, past the crumbling heart of the old quarry, onto grass paths that take you further into the woods, to more walls, more stone, more paths. The ground turns a bit muddy, signifying the presence of water, and as you circle back you find pools, bright green with algae, fitted snugly into curving walls, and another of clear water with the rusted remains of a well-worn diving board signifying a reward at the end of what must have been many long hot hard-working days. At one moment it all seems organic, as if this complex puzzle of stone, land, and water had just willed itself into being, but the next moment one stands in awe of one man's patience for detail in the service of his broad vision. http://www.opus40.org/fite.htm
It's not likely that your search for creativity will lead you to build an Opus 40, but if you would like to free yourself to develop your creative side, strengthen your confidence in your artistic capacity, and get more pleasure out of the right side of your brain, think about signing up for the program: The Artist's Way (based on the ground-breaking book by Julia Cameron) with Stephanie Costello, an excellent clinical social worker in Philadelphia who has had phenomenal success helping people find their own rich sources for creative and artistic satisfaction. The next program begins September 14 (both evening and daytime sessions) - you can see details on Stephanie's website http://www.stephaniecostello.com/for_groups.html#artists Stephanie is warm, compassionate, and passionate about helping people to be happier and more creative - this is a great opportunity! (Note: I've never personally been a fan of the Julia Cameron approach - what prompted me to endorse this program was hearing Stephanie explain how she uses it, and how people have responded over the years she's been doing it. )
Thanks to Rick Fitzgerald for the pictures!

Hudson River Art Updated and Ongoing

The Hudson Valley, up where it meets the broad shoulders of New York's Adirondack Mountains, is as calm and golden on a summer weekend as ever it was in one of the paintings by the artists of the Hudson River School - here View of the Hudson River by Seth Eastman (1834). In between lakes and mountain shadows old family motels with nostalgic clusters of cabins line the roads, little Norman Rockwell vignettes of 1950's togetherness that are a bit sad to see, but mostly still open for business. I was up that way there for the timeless pleasure of great music - in this case the Philadelphia Orchestra at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center - and by the luckiest of chances also met a most interesting contemporary artist. Bruno LaVerdiere is deeply rooted in the Adirondacks - the great and mighty Hudson runs near his home, though at that point it's a surprisingly tame and burbling stream - but he got there by way of a childhood in Maine, a Benedictine monastery in the Pacific Northwest, a few years in New York City, and an impressive career teaching and working in the US and Europe. Over the course of 30 years he turned a summer cabin into a comfortable compound of art and life, where the view from all corners is trees, trees, trees -  until you swing round to a clear miles-long view of a broad blue sky and a favorite mountain. Before the house the first glimpse of Bruno's work came bit by bit along his private dirt road, standing ceramic forms spotted amid the ferns and wild greenery. Tomb forms, he says they are, a series inspired by a local graveyard after he moved up into this quiet corner from New York City. The history of a rich artistic life continues in his studio, a sprawling custom built structure with plenty of room for new and old work, and all the cool tools a gadget-loving artist would ever need. A huge car kiln sits behind the studio like a dormant Fire God, resting patiently while these days Bruno is busy with painting. He says he has discovered color after a long love affair with black and white, and he appears to be having a great time. He's one of those artists who makes it all work, makes it significant no matter how casual the effort - the standing ceramic forms, slashed and pummeled into iconic, compelling shapes, the huge inky abstract drawings, the series of simple, single cats, the latest colorful encaustic explorations founded on a geometric house diagram, and a huge ceramic horn hanging on the porch, ready for all to try their luck. Thank you, Bruno, for homemade yogurt with homegrown blueberries, for a refuge from bats, and especially for the art, the laughter, and all the great stories. 

Norway - sympathy, memories, and Monet

This post goes out with deepest sympathy and grief for the country and people of Norway. I was there once years ago. My husband and I took the Hurtigruten, one in a fleet of small ships that travels up and down the coastline delivering passengers and mail. We went from Bergen to the limits of Nord Norge at the Russian border, and back again, a voyage of more than a week. I'll never forget the excitement of that trip, passing the Arctic Circle early on, adding layers as we went north, standing transfixed by the astounding scenery of water, mountains, glaciers, and coast - and with blessedly fine weather though it was April and still deep winter in much of Norway. We were in and out of small and large harbors, day and night, constantly marking new superlatives - the northern most Gothic cathderal (Trondheim), the northernmost deciduous forest, etc. Sea eagles flew over our heads, dolphins jumped around the prow, gorgeous King Eider ducks thronged the waters. It is a most beautiful country with an envied history of peace and cooperation among their people. The events of last week are still - will always be - hard to believe. Claude Monet also went to Norway once. He liked to paint snow scenes so he too went North in winter (1885) - though went he got there he found a bit more snow than he'd anticipated - and apparently deplored his own lack of success with skiing. With sympathy and respect, and in the middle of a summer heat wave around here, here are a few of Monet's cool views of the great country of Norway.