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Thursday 29 December 2016

The Write Advice 087: EUGENE O'NEILL


Altogether too much damn nonsense has been written since the beginning of time about the dissipation of artists.  Why, there are fifty times more real drunkards among the Bohemians who only play at art, and probably more than that among the people who never think about art at all.  The artist drinks, when he drinks at all, for relaxation, forgetfulness, excitement, for any purpose except his art…You've got to have all your critical and creative faculties about you when you're working.  I never try to write a line when I'm not strictly on the wagon.  I don't think anything worth reading was ever written by anyone who was drunk or even half-drunk when he wrote it.  This is not morality, it's plain physiology.

Quoted in Eugene O'Neill: The Man and His Plays (1944) by BARRETT H CLARK


 

Use this link to visit eOneill.com, an electronic archive designed to celebrate the life and preserve the work of playwright EUGENE GLADSTONE O'NEILL (1888–1953), the writer who almost singlehandedly invented modern North American theater.

 

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Thursday 22 December 2016

Words for the Music 008: LORENZ HART




LORENZ HART
2 May 1895 – 22 November 1943





 
I WISH I WERE IN LOVE AGAIN
 
Written by LORENZ HART and RICHARD RODGERS
 
Performed by FRANK SINATRA
 
from the 1956 Capitol LP  
 
A Swingin' Affair






 
 
I WISH I WERE IN LOVE AGAIN


 
The sleepless nights, the daily fights
The quick toboggan when you reach the heights
I miss the kisses and I miss the bites
I wish I were in love again

 
The broken dates, the endless waits
The lovely loving and the hateful hates
The conversation with the flying plates
I wish I were in love again

 
No more pain, no more strain
Now I'm sane but
I would rather be punch-drunk

 
The pulled out fur of cat and cur
The fine mis-mating of a him and her
I've learned my lesson but
I wish I were in love again

 
The furtive sigh, the blackened eye
The words 'I love you till the day I die'
The self-deception that believes the lie
I wish I were in love again

 
When love congeals it soon reveals
The faint aroma of performing seals
The double-crossing of a pair of heels
I wish I were in love again

 
No, no more care, no, no despair
Now I'm all there now but
I'd rather be punch-drunk

 
Believe me sir, I much prefer
The classic battle of a him and her
I don't like quiet and
I wish I were in love again
In love again
In love again 







Words by Lorenz Hart
Music by Richard Rodgers
© 1937 Chappell & Co Music/Williamson Music ASCAP
from the musical Babes In Arms






 
 
What makes a lyricist a genius?  Is it their ability to dazzle us with their extensive vocabularyOr is it their artful use of everyday language to astonish, amuse and genuinely move us by combining unexpected words and phrases to create something that resists cliché and categorization even as, in another sense, it might appear to embrace if not define those over-utilized tropes?  


A song like I Wish I Were In Love Again proves, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that Lorenz Hart was the latter type of artist –– a sensitive, educated, highly articulate individual who possessed a faultless understanding of modern North American vernacular and used this knowledge of it to create instantly memorable works of art which, in his time, were often dismissed as popular entertainment that, of course, would 'never last.' 

How many lyricists, then or now, are able to combine words like 'toboggan,' 'mis-mating,' 'self-deception,' 'furtive' and, my favorite, 'congeals' in such a seamless way while simultaneously managing to be riotously funny even as they suggest a sophisticated but world-weary form of loneliness?  If Hart had never written anything besides the lines 'When love congeals/it soon reveals/The faint aroma of performing seals/The double-crossing of a pair of heels' he would still be the greatest lyricist to emerge from the Broadway/Tin Pan Alley tradition despite having some formidable competition in the likes of Harold Arlen, Dorothy Fields, Ira Gershwin, Frank Loesser, Cole Porter and many others whose names are not as well known as they should be despite the fact their songs continue to serve as the soundtracks to many of our lives.  

There is a reason people keep performing Rodgers and Hart material decade after decade.  It is the same reason directors keep staging productions of Shakespeare and actors keep lining up to perform in them –– to live with and inside that glorious language for a while and be reminded that true wit, like true talent, is as fine as gossamer and just as difficult to find.   


 

 
 
Use the links below to read more about the life and work of North American lyricist LORENZ HART (1895–1943) and a 2013 article about his successful but often tempestuous partnership with RICHARD RODGERS:
 
 
 
 
 


 

 

 

Special thanks to everyone who takes the time to upload music to YouTube.  Your efforts are appreciated by music lovers everywhere.

 

 

 

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Last updated 5 April 2021 

Thursday 15 December 2016

Masters of Cartoon Art 002: WINSOR McCAY



Little Nemo in Slumberland 
Published in The New York Herald 
Sunday, 12 August 1906

 

The August 12, 1906, Little Nemo in Slumberland episode is Winsor McCay's masterpiece, the single most beautiful comic strip page ever.  It is a pantheistic dream, designed with the elegance and luminosity of a stained glass window.  The panel shapes work in sympathy with the characters' actions –– a wide rectangle accommodates six giant butterflies in the top panel, changing to a series of vertical shapes when Nemo and the Princess ascend the tree.  The drawing is alive with illusions of motion: the differing poses of the butterflies imply fluttery animation, and their flight to a distant tree uses dynamic perspective to lead the eye.  The point of view throughout is as mobile as if shot by a swooping camera crane in one continuous take.  The downward direction of the insects [panel 5] signals the start of the rain, enhancing the effect.  During the downpour [panel 6], McCay eliminates the usual thick Art Nouveau outlines around characters and objects, and by adding thin vertical lines he creates a diffuse, steamy summer shower of cool drops hitting hot surfaces.
The use of color is extraordinary, from the blazing red title on complimentary green, to the multihued butterfly's wings.  The volatile sky excites us, then cools us off with its constantly changing colors.  This is a peaceful world, where nature is tame and friendly –– bugs do not bite and weather is truly predictable.  A fictional metamorphosis solves problems: a stem and leaves become a railing and stairs; a tree becomes a giant umbrella.
Only the relationship between the relentlessly boyish Nemo and his 'romantic' partner, the matronly Princess, is out of sync in this leisurely, timeless utopia.  They contrast in attire, energy, and attitudes: she is confident and full of polite chatter; he is concerned for his safety, preoccupied with the mechanics of the place, and bored by his hostess and her tour of marvels.  'How long will this rain last, eh?' he asks with impatience.  Mundane reality intrudes when the gentle rain becomes an annoying sprinkle tossed by Nemo's angry father.  The dream has ended rudely and too soon, but the memory of Winsor McCay's most perfect vision will remain.

JOHN CANEMAKER
Winsor McCay: His Life and Art
© Harry N Abrams, Inc (2005) 



Use the links below to read about the life and work of North American artist, illustrator and pioneering animator WINSOR McCAY and view more extraordinary panels from his legendary comic strip Little Nemo in Slumberland:
 
 



 

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Thursday 8 December 2016

Think About It 020: WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA


The historian calmly leafs through Gilgamesh, that most ancient epic of humankind, and immediately latches on to what he needs, ie. 'one of the earliest testaments to the formation of the state leadership’s social base.'  The poet isn’t equipped to relish the epic for such reasons.  Gilgamesh might just as well not exist for him if it holds only such information.  But it does exist, because its titular hero mourns the death of his friend.  One single human being laments the woeful fate of another single human being.  For the poet this fact is of such momentous weight that it can’t be overlooked in even the most succinct historical synthesis.  As I say, the poet can’t keep up, he lags behind.  In his defense I can only say that someone’s got to straggle in the rear.  If only to pick up what’s been trampled and lost in the triumphal procession of objective laws.

Nonrequired Reading (2002)


 

Use the link below to read more (in English) about the life and work of Polish poet and essayist WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA:

 

https://culture.pl/en/artist/wislawa-szymborska

 

 

 

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Thursday 1 December 2016

The Write Advice 086: VIRGINIA WOOLF


The only advice… that one person can give another about reading is to take no advice, to follow your own instincts, to use your own reason, to come to your own conclusions… After all, what laws can be laid down about books?  The battle of Waterloo was certainly fought on a certain day; but is Hamlet a better play than Lear?  Nobody can say.  Each must decide that question for himself.  To admit authorities, however heavily furred and gowned, into our libraries and let them tell us how to read, what to read, what value to place upon what we read, is to destroy the spirit of freedom which is the breath of those sanctuaries.  Everywhere else we may be bound by laws and conventions — there we have none…
     Perhaps the quickest way to understand the elements of what a novelist is doing is not to read, but to write; to make your own experiment with the dangers and difficulties with words.

How Should One Read A Book? (1925)


 

Use the link below to read more about the life and work of British novelist and essayist VIRGINIA WOOLF:

 

https://v-woolf-society.com/

 

 

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Wednesday 2 November 2016

Think About It 019: JOHN PILGER


Imagine two cities.  Both are under siege by the forces of the government of that country.  Both cities are occupied by fanatics, who commit terrible atrocities, such as beheading people.

But there is a vital difference.  In one siege, the government soldiers are described as liberators by Western reporters embedded with them, who enthusiastically report their battles and air strikes.  There are front page pictures of these heroic soldiers giving a V-sign for victory.  There is scant mention of civilian casualties.

In the second city –– in another country nearby –– almost exactly the same thing is happening.  Government forces are laying siege to a city controlled by the same breed of fanatics.

The difference is that these fanatics are supported, supplied and armed by 'us' –– by the United States and Britain.  They even have a media centre that is funded by Britain and America.

Another difference is that the government soldiers laying siege to this city are the bad guys, condemned for assaulting and bombing the city –– which is exactly what the good soldiers do in the first city.

Confusing?  Not really.  Such is the basic double standard that is the essence of propaganda.  I am referring, of course, to the current siege of the city of Mosul by the government forces of Iraq, who are backed by the United States and Britain, and to the siege of Aleppo by the government forces of Syria, backed by Russia.  One is good; the other is bad.

What is seldom reported is that both cities would not be occupied by fanatics and ravaged by war if Britain and the United States had not invaded Iraq in 2003.  That criminal enterprise was launched on lies strikingly similar to the propaganda that now distorts our understanding of the civil war in Syria.

Without this drumbeat of propaganda dressed up as news, the monstrous ISIS and Al-Qaida and al-Nusra and the rest of the jihadist gang might not exist, and the people of Syria might not be fighting for their lives today.

'Inside The Invisible Government: John Pilger On War, Propaganda, Clinton And Trump' 

[New Matilda, 28 October 2016]


 

Use the link below to visit the website of Australian journalist and filmmaker JOHN PILGER:

 

https://johnpilger.com/

 

 

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Thursday 20 October 2016

Think About It 018: NANCY JO SALES


Mobile dating went mainstream about five years ago; by 2012 it was overtaking online dating.  In February, one study reported there were nearly 100 million people –– perhaps 50 million on Tinder alone — using their phones as a sort of all-day, every-day, handheld singles club, where they might find a sex partner as easily as they’d find a cheap flight to Florida.  'It’s like ordering Seamless,' says Dan, the investment banker, referring to the online food-delivery service.  'But you’re ordering a person.'
      The comparison to online shopping seems an apt one.  Dating apps are the free-market economy come to sex.  The innovation of Tinder was the swipe — the flick of a finger on a picture, no more elaborate profiles necessary and no more fear of rejection; users only know whether they’ve been approved, never when they’ve been discarded.  OkCupid soon adopted the function.  Hinge, which allows for more information about a match’s circle of friends through Facebook, and Happn, which enables GPS tracking to show whether matches have recently 'crossed paths,' use it too.  It’s telling that swiping has been jocularly incorporated into advertisements for various products, a nod to the notion that, online, the act of choosing consumer brands and sex partners has become interchangeable.

'Tinder and the Dawn of the Dating Apocalypse' [Vanity Fair,  6 August 2015]


 

Use the link below to read the full article by North American journalist NANCY JO SALES:

 

http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/2015/08/tinder-hook-up-culture-end-of-dating

 

 

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Thursday 13 October 2016

The Write Advice 085: DAVID HARE


I have respect for any artist who wants to drag art closer to reality, and whose inspiration is the wealth of the external universe.
      There are, after all, only three disciplines to which human beings can go for help in understanding their own predicaments: to art, to science and to religion.  There is so much to know, and we have such short lives in order to learn, that I cannot understand any writer who, at some level, does not value curiosity over opinion, nor seek enlightenment over self-expression.  What else will persuade the sated consumers that fiction can offer them something which the melodrama of football or the lassitude of magazines cannot?
      It is precisely because there are so many stories being told that audiences need to be refreshed.  Why fabulate?  Because if we do not, everyone else will.  We must fabulate because we all, as spectators, need to be reminded that the lowest levels of fabulation, as much as in half-baked novels as on half-baked television, do not tell us very much about reality, or about ourselves.
      Bad and conventional story-telling serves only to dull us. Such story-telling reduces the world.  How much more desperately, then, we need our sense of wonder restored.
      And let me be clear: not only do I look to leave the theatre or the television set knowing more, but most especially I hope to know more about now.  A lifetime's experience of story-telling has convinced me that nothing is harder in the arts than to be contemporary.  It may be true that we are breeding generations who will prefer to watch the security cameras in department stores rather than go to the Royal Shakespeare Company.  But it is interesting to note that, in television, the fly-on-the-wall documentary which three years ago was all the rage is now more or less extinct, while Eastenders and Casualty ride on regardless.  The makers of these rightly admired and formidable programs know something which the low-level documentarists did not: that the editing and organisation of reality is a genuine skill. 
      In response to the ubiquity of the real, we need not to abandon fiction, but, on the contrary, to make that fiction more original, more distinctive.  The enemy of art is not reality, but formula.

Interview [The Sydney Morning Herald,18 October 2004]



Use the link below to read an interview with British playwright DAVID HARE about his controversial 2015 memoir The Blue Touch Paper:

 

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/theatre/playwrights/david-hare-interview-sense-of-guilt-drove-my-life-for-so-long/

 

 

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Thursday 6 October 2016

Words for the Music 007: RICKIE LEE JONES


RICKIE LEE JONES
c 1979



ON SATURDAY AFTERNOONS IN 1963
RICKIE LEE JONES
from the 1979 Warner Bros LP 
Rickie Lee Jones






ON SATURDAY AFTERNOONS IN 1963

 
The most as you'll ever go
Is back where you used to know
If grown-ups could laugh this slow
Where as you watch the hour snow
Years may go by
Years may go by

So hold on to your special friend
Here, you'll need something to keep her in
Now you stay inside of this foolish grin
Though any day your secrets end
Then again
Years may go by
And years may go by

You saved your own special friend
'Cuz here you need something to hide her in
And you stay inside of that foolish grin
When everyday now secrets end
And then again
Years may go by
And years may go by
Years may go by
  Years may go by…  



Words and music © 1979 Rickie Lee Jones






Some singers have the ability to transport the listener to a unique time and place the moment they open their mouths.  On paper, a song like On Saturday Afternoons in 1963 looks like a brief wisp of a thing, a few throwaway lines that, while poetic, hardly qualify as earth-shattering.  But the magic happens when Rickie Lee Jones sings those words in her own haunting and inimitable way, against a musical background that is at once wistful and resigned, defining and celebrating childhood even as it appears to be lamenting the inevitable passing of it.

I defy anyone with an open heart to listen to this song and not feel profoundly moved by it.  It proves why the greats are great and why certain albums become classics while others languish, ignored and forgotten, in perpetual obscurity.  There's no trickery here, no trendiness, no hiding behind hype or effects or overly slick arrangements.  Just honest raw emotion, delivered by one human being to other human beings in a way that's both truly affecting and instantly comprehensible.

And all in a pithy, self-contained work of art that lasts less than three minutes.

Sit back and marvel, as I often have and still do, at the sheer unadorned beauty of it.


 

Use the link below to visit the website of North American singer/songwriter RICKIE LEE JONES:
 
 


 

 

Special thanks to everyone who takes the time to upload music to YouTube.  Your efforts are appreciated by music lovers everywhere.

 

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Last updated 5 April 2021