JoanP.,
Is inspiration a talent - or is it pulling off the inspiration through the hard work that accounts for a work of art? Have you ever felt this way?
I gave this some thought and for me
inspiration is something that comes from inside you, after one of your fives senses have been triggered and touches your heart and soul, that then creates an idea inside your mind. I am a writer, and many things have inspired me to write poems, children stories, articles, and novels. Art in any form be it painting, writing, singing, dancing, etc., etc, comes from inspiration. A feeling that allows your mind to create, and your body to develop that inspired idea, in physical or even spiritual form.
in·spi·ra·tion noun \ˌin(t)-spə-ˈrā-shən, -(ˌ)spi-\
: something that makes someone want to do something or that gives someone an idea about what to do or create : a force or influence that inspires someone
: a person, place, experience, etc., that makes someone want to do or create something
: a good idea
Full Definition of INSPIRATION
1
a : a divine influence or action on a person believed to qualify him or her to receive and communicate sacred revelation
b : the action or power of moving the intellect or emotions
c : the act of influencing or suggesting opinions
2
: the act of drawing in; specifically : the drawing of air into the lungs
3
a : the quality or state of being inspired
b : something that is inspired <a scheme that was pure inspiration>
4
: an inspiring agent or influence
— in·spi·ra·tion·al adjective
— in·spi·ra·tion·al·ly adverb
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Examples of INSPIRATION
Where does the inspiration for your art come from?
His paintings take their inspiration from nature.
She had a sudden inspiration. They would have the party outdoors!
Deciding to have the party outdoors was sheer inspiration.
First Known Use of INSPIRATION
14th century
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/inspirationOnto the final chapters of the story..... the final Exhibition, and Mary is now an accomplished, recognized, acclaimed artist according to the critics, her colleagues, and public alike. She has made it by all definitions she held herself to for success. She has done it in spite of the hurt, ridicule, bad reviews, lost love, and no longer having the tutelage of Degas beside her. She has finally come into her own, and has the admiration of her father!
Chapter Fifty ( First paragraph)
The struggle that had seemed so essential, the yearning for transcendence, the doubt that had plagued her, fell away in the face of success. Mary had become the artist she had wanted to be by dint of hard work and perseverance. And what was left was work, the work she had chosen: the pleasure of the puzzle, the technical questions of execution, the choice of composition and color, nothing different than before except that now she understood that pain was the foundation of art__not always its subject, but always its process. To be in pain was to be in the work. But no longer did she fear it meant failure. She knew she would succeed eventually with a canvas. She knew that if she stayed with it long enough, through the blindness, she would finally see what it was meant to be. She knew that she would find its soul. Pain was the essential ingredient. As much as she can attribute some of her success to Degas teaching her "gesture," she also learned he held her back from succeeding sooner.
"(Louisine Edler) She asked Mary, from time to time, how it was with Edgar, and Mary made brave answers of independence and indifference, but Edgar's cutting tongue set loose on one of her paintings or proffered opinions could set her back so much that she wouldn't be able to paint for day, sometimes weeks."Then Mary ponders the what ifs of her and Degas's life......
Mary often wondered whether, had she given in, had she allowed herself to become irretrievably entangled, had she been willing to submit to a lifetime of uncertainty, they might have found a way to be at intimate peace with one another.
Fleeting, but unsettling, the question rebounded throughout the years to bedevil her. Why was so little in life ever truly settled? Not the happenstance of things, but the why of things?"After Degas is no longer in her day to day life, she seems to be able to paint at will, with the gift he had given her.
The work came to her in an endless profusion of possibilities. There were a thousand ways to paint a mother and child, for in each familial bond there was a unique tie that found its expression in a particular gesture. It was what he had taught her, so long ago. Gesture. Made, not spontaneous. Studied, not accidental. The signifier of a unique truth about a life, or two lives. The gift of Degas.I finished the book and I will take the time to discuss each chapter, so we may cherish these last pages, but I can not hold in my feelings so I will say this much.... Oliveira, in these last chapters captivated me, she captured the qualities of Degas, his vulnerabilities that I could not see throughout the story. Maybe it's because I could see the exceptionalism in Mary from the beginning, and how he stunted her work, that I just personally saw how extremely selfish and full of himself he was. In the last chapters/pages my heart went out to Degas. My eyes filled with tears, and streamed down my face, trying to see through them, to continue reading the words on the pages. The final pages in my opinion make this novel a true masterpiece in every sense of the word, as in comparison to Mary's success with her art.
For me this ranks up on my favorite books of all times with
Pride and Prejudice and
Wives and Daughters. It may not say much for someone who has not yet read a ton of classics, but you don't have to see every pebble on the beach, to recognize a lucky stone, when you see it shining through.
Ciao for now~
