Teenaged Claude Monet was a skilled caricaturist when he met landscape artist Eugène Boudin. Boudin recognized the young man’s talent, but urged him to be a bit more ambitious. Boudin invited Claude to go out him to paint en plein air—in the open air. He urged, “Study, learn to see and to paint, draw, make … Read moreChase the light
In 1830, Victor Hugo was at odds with his publisher. A book had been promised but Hugo had yet to complete the manuscript. So Hugo finally buckled down, got himself a fresh bottle of ink and dove in. A few months later, the bottle of ink was empty and the promised manuscript was finished. Hugo … Read moreHugo’s magical multi-purpose novel
The Rule of St. Benedict is just boring. There’s really no way getting around that. I’ve tried to drum up a compelling anecdote, but…I’ve got nothing. And no wonder—The Rule of St. Benedict is a handbook on how to be a monk, so you might expect that it’s a little dry. It dictated every aspect … Read moreMisadventures in idle valley
In southeastern Germany, in the state of Bavaria there is a Benedictine abbey dedicated to St. Walburga. And in the abbey, to this day, there is a small collection of drawings made around the year 1500 by an unnamed nun.
In fifth-century B.C., the theatre in Athens, Greece wasn’t just a form of entertainment, it was a serious competition. Like any game, there were rules to be followed. But unlike many games, the winners were oftentimes those who knew which rules to break.
It is no small thing for a creator to have his or her work recognized by a contemporary audience—let alone to achieve lasting posthumous fame. But what is perhaps even more remarkable is to attain all of this reluctantly.
In 1883, Catalan architect Antoni Gaudí began work on the Basílica de la Sagrada Família, in Barcelona, Spain. To simply call this structure “a cathedral” feels somewhat misleading. It does look like a cathedral—but like one you might find at the bottom of the ocean or on the surface of the moon.
Most conventional definitions of perfection come up short when compared to the lofty expectations of an artist for what their own work ought to be. What does perfection really mean to an artist or creator—and is perfection really an option?
Perfectionism is so often described as the scourge of artists and the killer of productivity. But what is it that we’re all actually chasing after? And is perfection really what we want?
What would it mean to live from the beginning, as if the end were already determined? What would it mean to live, conscious that everything around you would coalesce into one great story, that everyone around you would have a part in it, and that each step you took would be connected to every one before?