Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
A Pitch for Art
In class I suggested a "baseball pitch as art" analogy. I'd like to carry the analogy a bit further:
There was once a small boy who grew up to be a talented and famous pitcher. Since I'm making this up I'll give him a "baseball player nickname"- say "Curly". From the time Curly could lift a ball he practiced throwing. At night his mother had to pry the baseball from his sleeping fingers. For close to twenty years he honed his craft. By the time he entered the major leagues, though he had many pitches in his repertoire, he had elevated the curve ball to an art form. Batters didn't mind striking out just so they could watch it cross the plate on its perfect trajectory. Umpires slightly stretched the strike zone so they could be part of the experience of calling a batter out on such a thing of beauty. Baseball writers waxed eloquently on the form this curve described. Never had a blurred white orb with red stitches sailed on such a graceful path. The less than half-a-second it took for the ball to reach the catcher's mitt was every bit of high temporal art as any aria ever sung.
When Larry was a child he could amuse himself for hours tinkering with machines and gadgets. At first he mostly took things apart. This was long before he patented his 431 inventions which would make him a billionaire. His mother had to pry a screwdriver or wrench from his sleeping fingers. Soon he started putting things together in new ways - usually from the orphaned parts of things he had disassembled. He became interested in catapults and trebuchets. By the time he was twenty he had perfected a pitching machine that could hurl a curve ball as inspirational as Curly's. He tinkered with force and acceleration until he could propel a 144 gram sphere on a perfect curve. It was a thing of beauty. Scientific writers said, without hyperbole, that finally there was a reason that Euclid invented geometry - to try to describe this parabola. Everything that could be said about Curly's curve could also be said about Larry's. One day some some experts assembled at home plate to judge for themselves. Bantering batters, persnickety physicists, imperious umpires, and experts of various expertise awaited. A blind was arranged. Only the traveling ball could be seen - not from whence it came.
Larry, who wanted to watch the proceedings discretely from the bleachers asked one the the groundskeepers, Moe, to push the button activating his machine at the appropriate time.
The judges all agreed that the pitches were things of beauty, works of art.
So to bring this analogy home to our class - I think it can be argued that Curly and Larry were artists and that Moe was just some button-pushing stooge. This was, of course, before Moe went on to make millions in the fast food industry (hey I like happy endings - what can I say.)
There was once a small boy who grew up to be a talented and famous pitcher. Since I'm making this up I'll give him a "baseball player nickname"- say "Curly". From the time Curly could lift a ball he practiced throwing. At night his mother had to pry the baseball from his sleeping fingers. For close to twenty years he honed his craft. By the time he entered the major leagues, though he had many pitches in his repertoire, he had elevated the curve ball to an art form. Batters didn't mind striking out just so they could watch it cross the plate on its perfect trajectory. Umpires slightly stretched the strike zone so they could be part of the experience of calling a batter out on such a thing of beauty. Baseball writers waxed eloquently on the form this curve described. Never had a blurred white orb with red stitches sailed on such a graceful path. The less than half-a-second it took for the ball to reach the catcher's mitt was every bit of high temporal art as any aria ever sung.
When Larry was a child he could amuse himself for hours tinkering with machines and gadgets. At first he mostly took things apart. This was long before he patented his 431 inventions which would make him a billionaire. His mother had to pry a screwdriver or wrench from his sleeping fingers. Soon he started putting things together in new ways - usually from the orphaned parts of things he had disassembled. He became interested in catapults and trebuchets. By the time he was twenty he had perfected a pitching machine that could hurl a curve ball as inspirational as Curly's. He tinkered with force and acceleration until he could propel a 144 gram sphere on a perfect curve. It was a thing of beauty. Scientific writers said, without hyperbole, that finally there was a reason that Euclid invented geometry - to try to describe this parabola. Everything that could be said about Curly's curve could also be said about Larry's. One day some some experts assembled at home plate to judge for themselves. Bantering batters, persnickety physicists, imperious umpires, and experts of various expertise awaited. A blind was arranged. Only the traveling ball could be seen - not from whence it came.
Larry, who wanted to watch the proceedings discretely from the bleachers asked one the the groundskeepers, Moe, to push the button activating his machine at the appropriate time.
The judges all agreed that the pitches were things of beauty, works of art.
So to bring this analogy home to our class - I think it can be argued that Curly and Larry were artists and that Moe was just some button-pushing stooge. This was, of course, before Moe went on to make millions in the fast food industry (hey I like happy endings - what can I say.)
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Name: Tom Bornstein
Experience w/ computers: It took me 10 minutes to find WORD on this MAC. That is indicative of my computer acumen. I use email at work and occasionally use the web to search for things. (Of course mainly when I’m searching for things I ask my wife, as she knows where most things are.)
Experience w/ digital arts: None, save cataloging my digital snapshots.
I think I can combine the answer to “ why am I taking this class “and what are my goals for the class”: I am particularly interested in pushing my photography into a more painterly art. I have recently have started to play with paints and would like to use some of my photos as the basis for some paintings or possibly some ink/water color pictures (or prints).
I am also very interested in learning more about composition and color scheme.
What projects am I interested in tackling: A series of Juneau photos, as well as completing a “silk screen” print.
Mac or PC : this is the first time I have actually touched a Mac. (Not that my experience with PC’s is substantial.)
Artist at any level: I suppose that everyone is at some level. Maybe as time goes by I’ll have a more definitive answer.
What would make the class go well: Direct feedback on composition.
technical instruction on the software
Experience w/ computers: It took me 10 minutes to find WORD on this MAC. That is indicative of my computer acumen. I use email at work and occasionally use the web to search for things. (Of course mainly when I’m searching for things I ask my wife, as she knows where most things are.)
Experience w/ digital arts: None, save cataloging my digital snapshots.
I think I can combine the answer to “ why am I taking this class “and what are my goals for the class”: I am particularly interested in pushing my photography into a more painterly art. I have recently have started to play with paints and would like to use some of my photos as the basis for some paintings or possibly some ink/water color pictures (or prints).
I am also very interested in learning more about composition and color scheme.
What projects am I interested in tackling: A series of Juneau photos, as well as completing a “silk screen” print.
Mac or PC : this is the first time I have actually touched a Mac. (Not that my experience with PC’s is substantial.)
Artist at any level: I suppose that everyone is at some level. Maybe as time goes by I’ll have a more definitive answer.
What would make the class go well: Direct feedback on composition.
technical instruction on the software
post one
This morning I had no idea what a blog was. Having entered the blogoshpere moments ago I'm not entirely sure I belong here. I'll try to wander around a bit even though my innate compass does not seem to work here.
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