Dancing the Dance of Genius

I imagine that people who write, and other people who are called artists, wrestle with the idea of genius, creativity and linking themselves somehow to both.  Often creative people are called geniuses, but what does that mean, really? 

In an effort to praise, we call someone a genius. Quickly we judge their efforts, especially in relation to what other artists of a similar bent have produced.  We judge and criticize, develop expectations, often wait expectantly for more art to come.  We voice our disappointment and dismay when efforts are not magnificent, and we deem a person who has spoken to us through their art a creative genius. 

We also hesitantly admire an artist's nearness to the limit of sanity, their potential for insanity, but we, by contrast, feel relieved not to be quite that artistic and possibly insane.  So, we seem to both fear and admire creativity. 

I listened to a recorded talk by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love, on the TED website last night and was intrigued with her approach to the subject of genius and creativity (weblink posted below).  Since she has written in obscurity and now has been lauded worldwide for her wildly popular top-selling book, she is uniquely qualified to comment on what constitutes a creative effort and the possibility of genius.  

Creative people often are burdened with the expectation that they are a genius.   She contends that we all "have a genius with us," not that we are actually The Genius.  The shift in thinking relieves her - and me as I think about it - of an unhealthy self-expectation that creative people are god-like.  Instead, we can be human beings who work hard at developing skills.  Perhaps once in a we while feel the power of transformative energy in our work, giving form to it and revealing truths and meaning.  We recognize in those moments that we were not really the genius but were the tool through which genius flowed. 

There is a funny little saying, "If you want to see God laugh, tell him/her you have a plan."  Artists would tell you, each one of them, that you never can plan to write the next World's Greatest Novel or compose the Most Wonderful Song, but that it just happens.  Developing the skills and having the shoes to dance the dance of the genius when it decides to flow is our work.  Being open, prepared, ready for the moment is what being "creative" means. 

Watch the recorded talk.  It takes about 18 minutes.  See what you think. 

http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html

Clambake Coming

Magically, it appears to be Spring today.  With the former Crosby Clambake Golf Tournament (now the AT&T Pro-Am Golf Tournament) mere days away, the organizers must be feeling like there's a joke in here somewhere.  They are much more used to horrible weather than good.  The greens keepers are masters at the art of squeegeeing  great sheets of rainwater off the greens, lashing the grandstands and tents to the ground with massive cables and ropes as well as corralling flying articles of golfers' attire that have been caught in gusting winds. 

Bing Crosby used to love to host his golf event here every winter.  (By the way, I have no idea of what exactly a "clambake" is in the real world; here it meant that the celebrities went to parties where booze flowed like water.)  The format of pairing actual touring golf professionals with amateurs including celebrities from Hollywood and making them play on spectacular courses lining a filthy-rich exclusive enclave sporting a melange of mansions, some the size of New Hampshire, was a formula initiated by Crosby and continues still. Giving profits to many local charities and nonprofits has encouraged acceptance by we non-elite residents and attendees of the event who feel a little overwhelmed by the gilded environment of Del Monte Forest. 

The downside of the whole idea was, and is, that it's held in, well, you know, winter.  So, a golfer could tee off on the 16th hole aiming at the distant fluttering flag and wind up watching his ball sail over to Carmel Beach, kind of in the opposite direction of what he thought he was aiming at. So, there's the inherent challenge of golf itself:  Tiny hard ball hit with long thin metal shaft at tiny hole beyond lakes, trees and sand pits.  At this particular event, those elements were mixed liberally with The Elements.  In other words, blustering wind at least, and possibly gales.  Also, drizzling fog - which only obscures the long view of the courses, not a problem for a happy-go-lucky celebrity - or slashing rain have been problems. Golf fans have been overheard at times:  "I saw a bird flying upside down and backwards today. "  Happens, you know. 

If today's weather holds up for the remainder of the week, the organizers of the Pro-Am will be ecstatic.  Flocks of golfing fans as well as celebrity watchers will alight in hotels all around the Peninsula and the turnstiles of Del Monte Forest will be whirring.  It's not a bad thing.  We're used to it here in The Groove.  But, rumor has it the sea otters are going to the next Chamber mixer and will be asking for higher wages for being so cute and distracting to the golfers and fans alike. 

Blank

This is the part where I intend to write something clever and cannot think of one single relevant thing to say. 

It happens every so often.  It is said that if you just write something, anything, you will be better off than writing nothing at all.  You can be the judge of that. 

It is Friday and I am fresh out of whatever is needed.  Thanks for reading anyway. 

New attempt to be made tomorrow.  Please stay tuned. 

Sketching an Idea

An idea for a longer project has been brewing in the back of my mind, gradually taking shape.  I alluded to it yesterday:  The Life and Times of David Jacks.  I've done a fair amount of research on him, prompted originally by a simple question.  How did Jack cheese get its name?  Prompted, by the way, by eating a sinfully juicy chicken-and-jack-cheese sandwich at Archie's Diner near the Monterey Bay Aquarium.  I was tucking into this big beast of a sandwich, juice running down my chin and fingers, savory aroma wafting all around me....

Naturally, beginning a research project tends to lead you into all sorts of directions, and you can become swamped in it, but some intriguingly vivid images captured me and held me fast: 

1.  He arrived in Monterey on a dark and stormy night, literally. 
2.  He owned the entire Montery Peninsula and some of the Salinas Valley at the height of his career
3.  He was cursed - literally damned with bitter vitriol -  and the curse proved to come true. 
4.  He began to amass his fortune by selling guns.

The fact that he did eventually own Monterey and lands surrounding links him to Pacific Grove.  He was a devout and pious man (really!) who taught Sunday school to local whippersnappers (I've always loved that word) at the Pacific House (pictured at left) in Monterey near his home.  He saw an opportunity to make inroads into the unruly lives of local riff raff by establishing a religious enclave where equally studious and devoted churchgoers could congregate peacefully.  He arranged to bequeath a large number of acres (my notes are not at hand right now or I'd tell you exactly how many) to the Methodists and thereby firmly establish them as a bastion of goodness and christian fellowship.  With a stroke of a pen, it was done and Pacific Grove began to be formed and then grow into a righteous and peaceful city. 

The dark and stormy night part comes much earlier as does the curse and why it was aimed at him.  Other colorful characters came and went during the several-hundred-year history of the area generally known as Monterey.  Our boy John Steinbeck mostly focused on the down and dirty drunks along what came to be known as Cannery Row.  The Oakies, Arkies and other brands of itinerant workers and poor who accumulated along the banks of our few rivers and shores were also subjects of his works, as you know.  There was a stretch time before that era that was actually a kind of perfect storm of historical events, and that's what I'm interested in.  So, that's a teaser, but I'll keep you posted. 

Looking at Victorians

I wrote about the Victorian-era houses that line narrow streets in Pacific Grove, so I thought I'd take a few photos today to illustrate.  Clouds are poofin' around out there, it's cool and the California version of January, a good day for a walk.  Off I went with my camera.

There is a several-block cluster of tidy-looking wooden homes with their telltale wrinkled panes of glass that tell you the glass is old and made with a much different technique than those of modern day.  The houses are sometimes painted in vivid colors that accentuate the decorative features.  Others sport softer hues and a much more conservative trim appearance. 

One of them "Paul Stevinson 1883" is nicely situated on a corner lot that provides viewing of the property from almost every side.  It has been restored and maintained in such pristine condition that it prompts many questions about the appearance and wherewithal of the original Mr. Stevinson. The PG Heritage Society is a veritable font of information, but they are not available except on Saturdays.

Most of the equally cute and varied neighboring structures in the vicinity of Stevinson 1883 were built in about a 10-year bracket of time.  Most of them were built from 1884 to about 1905, so there was apparently a bit of a housing boom back then.  With just a squint of your eyes and some tidbits of information, imagining the people of the day stepping out onto their front verandas isn't much of a stretch at all.  Streets and lanes were dirt and mud, horse-drawn carriages were used as well as wagons for transporting goods.  Attending church and socializing with the other well-to-do folk was the primary occupation of the good people back then.

Because this town was originally a Methodist retreat in which men and women encamped for months on end in tent cabins, you could say it was a bit of a holy ghetto, willingly segregated.  Nonbelievers lived elsewhere (Monterey for instance).  Self-selected by religious belief and a moderate lifestyle lived to the fullest (is that an oxymoron?), residents were able to buy land after a fellow stern and pious believer made his vast holdings available to them.  He was the remarkable David Jacks, after whom, it is believed, Jack cheese was named. 

To be continued.....