Accidental art and writing (a sequel): How does clarity motivate a reader? Resonance

Any serious writer will tell you what clarity really means. It means freedom from encumbrances-encumbrances such as, requiring everyone to be confined to pre-specified space, time, schedule, program, hoards of strange and illogical-irrational man-made rituals, sprouting “causes” which suddenly sprang out seemingly from nowhere like a thick veil of impenitrable fog onto the surface of earth in the plot of a science fiction.

In a well-written science fiction, we look for logic/ration and agreeable values which the readers would see clearly, identify, and read on with empathy/sympathy, often with a confident expectation for good at the end at least. We like positive outcome and reading the flow that would bring it when we finish the reading journey of the book.

Clarity, therefore, is very essential in any written work or a piece of art presentation. Here is a random definition: clarity noun1 the clarity of his account: lucidity, lucidness, clearness, perspicuity, intelligibility, comprehensibility, coherence; simplicity, plainness, explicitness, lack of ambiguity, precision. ANTONYMS  obscurity, vagueness

Someone may argue that an art does not need a clarity like a book does. An art is therefore open to interpretation of the beholder. In the same argument so does a book no matter how clear its plot and sequential flow of argument is. Expanding on this track further, so is life anyway.

Using a photo as an example, we can see the validity of the clarity argument. Are pictures not the same as words? Words, when organized well, tell a good and enjoyable story. So do pictures.

On my washing machine I note a “fuzzy” function button which I don’t use. Somehow I have no use of it.

Random dictionary definition:

a fuzzy picture: blurry, blurred, indistinct; unclear, bleary, misty, distorted, out of focus, unfocused, lacking definition, low resolution, nebulous; ill-defined, indefinite, vague, hazy, imprecise, inexact, loose, woolly. ANTONYMS  clear, sharp

my mind was so fuzzy: confused, muddled, addled, fuddled, befuddled, groggy, disoriented, disorientated, mixed up, fazed, perplexed, dizzy, stupefied, benumbed; foggy, misty, shadowy, blurred. ANTONYMS clear

Back to the other side of the argument. I like the Impressionist art. So I am not against a seemingly somewhat “fuzzy” appearance. I can see clarity in their pictures though. I can see clearly the beauty they present. I realize that a picture/photograph has the advantage that words do not have. A picture visual is a presentation at a glance. Words require time to read and digest. Effective organization of words therefore helps a person’s mind to absolve.

When I am a reader I prefer clarity. Like a good picture, it saves time. So does writing. Nowadays there are AI writers and human writers. If all the words are perfectly organized, all books will read the same. What is the point of reading then? Is that why many turn to watching visual moving pictures that can tell a clear story at a glance?

What motivates me to read is there are human writers too. And human writers are not perfect. And I am human. There is something the AI cannot imitate. Every human has a living spirit. Words written by a human has a spiritual content, which can stir up the special resonance between humans, the writer and the reader.

This is an unedited picture I took at random one afternoon sitting at a window. What can you see?

a building at a window 2022-01-15

Prais 2022-03-26

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the accidental art of being and not doing (June 2020-June 2021)

I never knew then I would come to this page. No, I am not discontinuing what had started. Blogging is not like turning on a tap to wash your hand and then turn it off when finished. Is there a finishing line? Where or what the finishing line is? What is the goal? The terms “finishing line”, “goal”, or “goal-post” seem irrelevant for non-commercial blogging. It all depends on the blogger/producer for a blog to survive. In commerce it depends on the recipients/viewers of the blogs/products. In blogs like this the blogger merely does a creative thing and leave it on the shelf, not necessarily for any other purpose aside for the creation process.

Do bloggers ever visit their own site and view the things they have journaled in the dusty past?

Of course, some bloggers use the piece as an expression or a diversion. Perhaps there is something you want to tell a loved one or someone really important, but is unable to do so in person or in other forms of communication, like a digital text or audio/visual message, email, or even a longhand-written missive, well, the remaining option is to blog, hoping that the intended recipient will one day find this and read it (and perhaps respond somehow).

For me, I use this blog as a way to check on my writing. Am I still writing words and making sense? Is my mind still working and my use of language fluid? What are my trends of thoughts lately? Today I visited this blog and noted a post on August 15, 2016, titled “Leaving behind is like a taboo statement”, and the content stirred me to write this page. In it I quoted a passage about Paul, (the protagonist of a classic book) being left behind as a self-imposed derelict after the demise of his mother and the final leaving of his long term girl friend. Looking back now, that passage had wielded its impact subtly over my years of solitude, and that blog post has revealed a page which I had forgotten, but not entirely lost…

A blog expresses something a blogger wants to talk about. It is interesting that at that time I wanted to talk about a sudden sense of being alone after a rather fruitful event of writing a biography for a business missionary and her team in a distant land. It was a restful time for me after finishing the big task of writing and publishing the book in two languages. Yet, away from the limelight, I could sense the solitude of just being and not doing.

The year June 2020-June 2021 had been a “being” year for me. “Being-not-doing”. In a way, it is very much self-imposed. I returned from another foreign land, locked up another newly acquired academic certificate and an important license and rested. Over the whole year I did not get to use them. Are certificates and official licenses important? The Generation Zs know they are important for them.

For me? Really I have no imagination there. Meanwhile, I continue this blog and not abandon ship. Afloat with words. Effortlessly sailing ahead. Ahoy! Land!

PraiseWord, 2021-06-30

There is a mysterious cycle in human events

tree-eveningvia Daily Prompt: Realize I now realize that this is a mysterious shot taken at Sep 12, 2015, 11:35 PM according to the description. But I cannot remember how I could have gone outside to take this photo at such a late hour! When I check other photos taken on the same day I find that they depict daytime and not night. How could I have taken some photos in the morning, paused for a whole day, and went out again just to take this one picture? It does not make sense. Anyway I give up guessing. It does not matter. The story in the picture is nice to ponder: it seems to tell of a mysterious setting for a rendezvous for at least two. The dark trees, the traffic junction, the lamp post, the distant low mounds, and the sun captured in its yellow water-color painted sky backdrop. The setting stirs up a writer’s imagination without boundary.
By the way, because the lamps seem not lit I conclude that this picture was taken in the day and not at night. It did not really matter whether it was day or night. I was alone that day and not meeting anyone.
“There is a mysterious cycle in human events. To some generations much is given. Of other generations much is expected. This generation of Americans has a rendezvous with destiny.” (Franklin D. Roosevelt)

her framed life

Frame
frame 1“If you don’t know history, then you don’t know anything. You are a leaf that doesn’t know it is part of a tree. ”(Michael Crichton) I agree when I now look at this picture taken at a museum. The painting depicts a vintage car with possibly a miner’s family. I was attracted by the splashes of blue color which permeates the whole scene. Somehow the blue blends well with the yellow and brown. I collected a few pictures within pictures by using a simple Samsung Galaxy. The museum is about mining. And an artist has displayed a series of painting of individuals (possibly based on related period records) on the wall. The individuals are framed in time. Each must represent an episode in life in which he or she has existed. Each carries a portion of history within the tiny frame of his or her life. We were mere travelers when we visited this museum. We were there to look at other things. But the paintings become a focus today. Paintings are framed lives. The artist looks at a life or a part thereof and tries to put it into an expression. But it can only remain a mere capture of a moment in life as observed and interpreted by the artist. Did the individual thus captured move on from that position and pose? Or was he or she frozen in that frame? No matter how well an artist tries to portray the reality, it is not reality. It is an image formed in time. Thinking deeper aloud, I suddenly realize I too am living from frame to frame. Don’t we all? Sad, but true.