How my teaching philosophy is influenced by writing on the bleeding edge – and Amy Beach, Part 1
As a new media author and digital painter, I have always worked on the bleeding edge. Not the cutting edge. The cutting edge is a respected forefront position, while the bleeding edge is the space beyond the forefront – the risky space that challenges the status quo and invariably attracts pushback. Working on the bleeding edge takes a thicker skin and an ability to tune out the din of protest while staying focused on the process and goal at hand.
“I need to hold a book.” “That’s not art.” “A computer made that?” “Where is the original?” “How are you going to monetize something that can be so easily replicated?” “Call me old-fashioned . . .” “I hate computers . . . the WEB . . . technology.” “Maybe you could take it to a science museum, we just deal with ‘real’ art.” “That’s not literature, where is the writing?”
I do not consider the new media writing and art I create as experimental, either. “Experimental” conjures images of weird and incomprehensible, art for art’s sake. I am seeking to communicate with the world out there as clearly as possible, using all the latest communication tools: digital image creating software, digital music making software, digital writing tools, video,digital programming languages, the Internet, CDs, DVDs, any modern tool I can get my hands on. I am not experimenting or attempting to obfuscate but trying to share my thoughts, experiences and ideas – my stories – in the most clear and comprehensible way I can.
For years after I lost the ability to dance due to an injury, I wanted to tell someone what it felt like to dance. Words alone could do my story no justice. A single motionless painting could be a window into only one moment. I created a digital visual art animation with a narration track, and with it succeeded in conveying my experience of ballet for the first time.(see my http://riffingonbooks.com/, “Riffing on John D’Agata’s The Next American Essay,” Aug. 23, 2009 entry)
Similarly when I read a book about the first noted woman composer in the United States, Amy Beach (1867-1944), I was immediately frustrated with the limitations of words on the page to give me a real sense of her life. I wanted to hear the music she composed. When I read that her work included folk motifs or powerful passages, I wanted to hear them. When her work was compared to other composers, I wanted to experience the contrast – then and there. Learning that she was a synesthete (she saw colors when she heard notes), I wanted to see and experience that phenomenon. So, I began to write an electronic book about Beach – including all those new media elements of image, sound, time and interactivity – to holistically convey the reality of her life and world.