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What is art?

A short essay on art by Vaughan De Sousa

What makes truly great work is often not the work itself but the premise it stands on. To subvert reality is to create art which stands a level beyond ‘good’ or ‘impressive’ and has the ability to move people.
Is the purpose of art to move a person? Who knows. Art is already not a fully understood entity, and the purpose of an endeavour as intense as creating a piece of art one is proud of has deep psychological influence on the creator, even if this doesn’t reach the audience.

The Picture of Dorian Gray sees an artist put a piece of his soul into the painting he has created. An object of moral degradation used by its commissioner, but a creation of desire and connection. How art is used is somewhat meaningless once it passes from the artist to the surveyor. Try as we might, artists do not have the power to force their viewers into seeing their own vision. We will never see things the same way as another.
Sight, like every sense is built upon by experience. We are what we have been through, even if behind that we are the same. With our differing experiences we interact with the world, creating new visions every second. Does this invalidate the creator’s vision? Maybe. One could say that the value of an artist resides in their ability to create works which follow their intention, which transcribe the world from the brain of the madman to the eyes of the sane.

So then, could we argue that art is a language? Language is a method by which people relate their experiences with one another through a common understanding. We can never truly communicate our own world to another without a medium understood by both. This is because, as previously mentioned, there is no way for two minds to interact. Speech, signals, even expression define ways in which the living are able to relate their experiences. So too, in this way, does art describe an experience. We understand that which exists through the veil of that which is universally understood. Yet, art is able to provide an experience which is understood only by the creator.

Then does art not dictate reality? Maybe. Because what is reality other than what we define it to be. Let me explain; for us, the viewers, a piece of art may display nothing but an amalgamation of ideas, an expression on paper or a blur of half concepts. Yet to the artist this is a truth, a fundamental of their reality put into the universal world. A form of linguistic expression. The reality of this piece of work gains and loses substance depending on the surveyor, yet it exists! It is real, an expression placed into the observable reality. Meaning and value are nothing as art breaks the barrier of the mental ‘real’ and the physical ‘real’.

So then, what makes a piece of art great? I can only speak from personal perspective now; however, we have already seen that this does not invalidate my approach. Rather, this work that I put forwards is my own art. It is my expression of idea, understood by some and rejected by others but nevertheless a piece of my soul etched on paper.
I believe to move myself art must first break expectation. Whether that be in the initial glance, or scene or second, or at the end when a perspective shift changes everything. To create art which shatters the illusion of safety allows the individual to begin to ‘feel’. Before this we are simply running through the motions of experience. Everything changes us, but we are often not aware of it. Jarring processes allow introspection and a hasty desire of the brain to catch up to the new perspective, this provides a gap for art to flourish.

Think about art like waging a battle. Everything is connected of course, one could say: think about battle like performing a dance, or performing a dance like painting a picture. Everything is connected.
To win a battle at the highest level it is not enough to be perfect. Imagine two chess players of excellent ability coming to a head. To play perfectly allows the chance of winning so long as the other player makes a mistake. But these are human players. One can only think ahead so long. What if one were to play an unexpected and jarring move. The response can be a number of things: hasty, direct, winning, losing, cautious, optimistic… a previously perfect game is thrown into disarray with the introduction of a subversion from the norm. In art, there is no winning or losing, there is only the break from reality, and the chink the defences of our mind.

The surveyor is your dance partner, your enemy at war, your chess opponent and your audience. To slip past the defences created by a mind is to find the opening whereby a life can be forever altered. Sometimes this is easy. The surveyor has had a hard day, they have lost a family member, or they are ready to quit their jobs/lives. The armour is in tatters, the audience has come to the show begging for change, at this point to change one’s life is simple. We can relate an armour-less surveyor to a child. Experience weathers us, it creates layers or expectation which prevents art, and all other experience from changing who we are. Or better yet think of it like a river, causing erosion on a smooth surface. A rush of water down this surface will not change much regarding its path, as the path is already set in the ground. It may widen or deepen it, but there is no new course to be made.
The mind of a child is a pile of sand, and you the artist hold a bucket of water. You can shape this mind however you wish with the notches, grooves and streams that you may pour atop this pile of sand. And as the sand mixes with dirt and clay, the grooves you have created solidify. I hate to say with time, but that is what happens. Once the grooves are made they remain, slowly gaining in intricacy as other sources of water pour, and more sediment hardens the earth.

Everything is connected. You understand where I am going with this, I am sure. The ability for art to create or add to a stream is clearly there, but what is the joy in adding to a groove in the dirt. You want to make your own. Perhaps art is a forceful thing, the artist a dominant figure. I write this piece expecting a change in your mental state, you will change after reading this regardless of who you are or what you have experienced, if only through the fact that you will have read something. But as the creator I have changed you, moulded a tiny piece of your mind forever.
But what if I were to change this work here. And completely destroy your expectations. I am not a great artist, I do not know what I could do to do this, but imagine I place beneath this wall of text an image which shatters your illusion. A picture that shocks you to your core, making you rethink all you have read thus far.

This would be your chink in your armour. Following this shock I could place a few simple words. You may go away from this with a desire to make something new, or a fear of art and it’s grips on your soul. ‘Soul’. Mind.
With this new experience you will rework your mind, you will solidify what you have seen and heard around your personality. It will become a new groove in your earth. And you will continue on, with a line drawn into your life by me. The artist.

I believe that art, when great, stands on a premise and shatters it. I believe this allows the artist free reign of your mind. I believe that a truly great artist uses this moment to reshape you, like a clay doll being altered before being placed into a kiln.
Because death is the final point of hardening, you will not gain any experience (known by us) from then on. You are the finished piece of art upon your deathbed.

Art is not just a painting on a canvas or a clip of a movie scene. Art is the the experience, from the creator to the created. We shape ourselves and others when we form art. Art is a language, and is also every language. But then you may ask, what is the difference between art and ANYTHING ELSE.

Everything is connected.

Shh… It’s Our Secret!

A few months ago, I had the pleasure of featuring a fantastic author who has the ability to create worlds that readers of all genres can sit back and enjoy. I am happy to announce that Lizzie Chantree is back to tell us more about her latest title, Shh… It’s Our Secret.

Welcome back, Lizzie. I’m so excited to hear more about your latest book.

Thank you for inviting me onto your blog today and for the amazing support of the launch of my latest book.

There are lots of ways to boost your mental health and wellbeing and having people around that you love and trust can help. In my latest book, Shh… It’s Our Secret, Violet struggles with self-confidence and self-worth.

Violet doesn’t want her friends and her sister to view her as a failure. The customers in the rundown café bar that she works in have become her confidants, including two eccentric pensioners, who feel like they have to act as her unofficial bodyguards when her secret ‘escapes’ into public knowledge. Violet will have to find out who has betrayed her and to step out of the shadows and find her voice.

If you could summarise the dramatic action, how would you capture it in a few words?

Violet has a secret that could change the lives of everyone she knows and loves, especially the regulars at the run-down café bar where she works. After losing her parents at a young age, they are the closest thing she has to a family and she feels responsible for them.

Kai is a jaded music producer who has just moved outside of town. Seeking solitude from the stress of his job, he’s looking for seclusion. The only problem is he can’t seem to escape the band members and songwriters who keep showing up at his house.

When Kai wanders into the bar and Violet’s life, he accidently discovers her closely guarded secret. Can Kai help her rediscover her self-confidence or should some secrets remain undiscovered?

Thanks for sharing your new title with us, Lizzie.

Shh… It’s Our Secret by Lizzie Chantree is available in audio, ebook and paperback format.

If you missed Lizzie’s previous feature on this site, click on the pic below to find out more about her highly entertaining title, The little Ice Cream Shop by the Sea.

About the author:

International bestselling author and award-winning inventor, Lizzie Chantree, started her own business at the age of 18 and became one of Fair Play London and The Patent Office’s British Female Inventors of the Year in 2000. She discovered her love of writing fiction when her children were little and now works as a business mentor and runs a popular networking hour on social media, where creatives can support to each other. She writes books full of friendship and laughter, that are about women with unusual and adventurous businesses, who are far stronger than they realise. She lives with her family on the coast in Essex.

Visit her website at http://www.lizziechantree.com or follow her on Twitter @Lizzie_Chantree https://twitter.com/Lizzie_Chantree.

The Final Journey

What Is Our Life

by Sir Walter Raleigh (1552–1618)

What is our life? The play of passion.

Our mirth? The music of division:

Our mothers’ wombs the tiring-houses be,

Where we are dressed for life’s short comedy.

The earth the stage; Heaven the spectator is,

Who sits and views whosoe’er doth act amiss.

The graves which hide us from the scorching sun

Are like drawn curtains when the play is done.

Thus playing post we to our latest rest,

And then we die in earnest, not in jest.

For Sue, on her final journey to rest. 🌸

Story time tonight

Join Moofy and Flo as they make their debut on EYFSHome tonight at 6.30pm. Our loveable, furry friends will be sharing their story as a bedtime treat for all the little ones out there who love live video books.

Click on the pic below to take you to EYFSHome’s page.

I hope to see you there tonight!

Glub, Now Under New Management!

Some books are most than just words on paper. They are the flesh and bones of writers’ journeys from obscurity and misadventure to their well deserved happily ever afters.
This is Glub’s story:

By Samantha Webb

I am so delighted to be writing this blog post. Glub, my curious purple creation has had a rough start of it and has been on a real adventure but I feel like he has finally found his true home.

Glub

I wrote the story of Glub around 12 years ago, after a trip to Paignton where we always go in to the arcades and have some wholesome family fun. My husband was adamant that he wanted to win a particularly unflattering teddy of Micheal Jackson because in his words “it is so bad, it is brilliant?’. Our then one year old daughter Lilly was horrified and was grabbing for the cute teddies and really no one would blame her. Sadly that day we walked away without any prizes but an idea was beginning to form in my mind.

Concept art by Jamie Webb.

On reading the first draft my…

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Living

Don’t go out. Don’t go near. Don’t uncover. Just don’t!

We are living the dream.

Those festivities we avoided with such flippant negligence is now a distant memory.

Zoom. Zoom. Google Meet. Teams. Whoop!

Again.

Repeat.

What a way to communicate.

Jokes agitate as Tiktok concentrates the bored.

Meetings with half-dressed workers fade to tirades for and against the vaccines and face masks.

The sound of tumbleweed rolls across school room floors.

Stillness catches on the feet of silent students sitting through online lessons, pretending to care.

Each household occupant mesmerised by screens – all shapes to fit all sizes – fuelling the need to educate and replicate finances.

We grow as people.

News becomes the main course of entertainment; briefings from the Government is seen as prime time television. Yet, it plays out like a soap opera, portraying predictable plots with caricatured speakers grinding out soliloquies of fortitude to the nation.

We grow weary.

‘Get children back to school!’

‘Vaccinate the vulnerable!’

‘Brexit!’

‘Nothing was done fast enough!’

Hyperbole flows in rivers of information, confirmation and confrontation from all corners of the continent. Unsettled murmurs of incompetency grow as fear is replaced by anger. Explanations and apologies hold as much value as a bag of Dolly Mix.

In the meantime, we count the souls like lost teeth.

More bitter than sweet.

Life becomes hard to swallow.

Copyright ©Eloise De Sousa (2021). All rights reserved.

Smorgasbord Children’s Reading Room – #Bullying Eloise de Sousa, #Adventure D.L. Finn, #Butterflies Bette A. Stevens

Without Saying Good-bye

They fall through the cracks, slip by

The keyholes; each holding the branch

Of humanity. I cry for your hand

To keep hold of fading memories

That twist like wisps of smoke

Into the darkness. You sigh with your head

Raised up to where heaven might be,

Praying for the romance of a final

Good-bye.

@eloise_writes

Copyright 2020 ©Eloise De Sousa

So long. Fare well.

It’s time to say good-bye to the year of change. Not only have we learnt, as humans, just how destructive we can be, we have found that love, compassion and kindness still exist. It survives and thrives on the burning embers and scattered remains of humanity’s desperate attempt to survive.

In the midst of the horrors that have occurred over 2020, we have witnessed the re-establishment of communities fighting for their weakest, holding up institutions filled with heroes willing to martyr themselves in their battle against an invisible enemy. Some of us less brave souls could only clap in unison to express our gratitude to them at assigned times each week, whilst others made sure those warriors were fed and watered during their most enduring of wars.

it is sad to mention a minority who formed a thick layer of denial against the truths of what was occurring. They rallied support through social media to defend their stance that a dystopia movement was imminent; our rights were slowly being eroded. Yet, they used those same rights they were afraid to lose to undermine the safety of others, choosing to be conduits for the deadly enemy, both mentally and physically.

And here we stand now, with the weaponry to keep the enemy at bay but racing against a ticking clock. How fast can we vaccinate humankind before more souls are taken or our enemy mutates again?

As we count down the hours to a new year, let us think of those brave enough to battle for our rights to live. Let us think about the souls already lost and those willing to use their bodies as conduits to test the resistance of vaccines against an enemy capable of mutating itself into new strains of monster.

Use these thoughts to help you cope with the silent nights and empty streets. We are all in the void together. Yet, we move. This won’t be forever. So, stay strong. Stay in. Stay safe. Tomorrow is a new year.

Happy new year to you all. I hope to see you on the other side soon.

Book review by a 2-year old : Moofy and Flo by Eloise De Sousa

There’s nothing better than receiving reviews from readers, especially when they are two years old!
A huge thank you to Cecily for sharing her grandson’s review of Moofy and Flo. I hope you enjoy this review as much as I did – I’m still smiling from listening to his little voice! It makes me think of Christmas and curling up by the Christmas tree, watching movies and reading stories to my children (who are to big to fully appreciate that now!).

Cecilyswritings

Ask a child and they’re brutal with the truth. Sometimes it’s not what you want to hear, other times it’s just right. Whatever they tell you, it’s genuine and from the heart. There is so much we can learn from a child. If they like something they’ll show it, usually by their actions. The cuddle, the kiss, the pouting face.

My friend and mentor, and published author, Eloise De Sousa sent me an advance copy of her video book Moofy and Flo to show my grandson, Sebastian, we call him Sebbie. 

Sebbie came over to our place on a gorgeous, hot Sunday afternoon.

He dashed around the garden, chasing both my husband and I (oh! the exercise!!)

He played hide-and-seek

Rode on his little balance bike

Had a picnic on the lawn

Blew bubbles

Talked to the flowers

And the birds and bees

Picked a few flowers

Helped mow the…

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