An anecdote in response to a longstanding question about whether artists "should" listen to music while making art: I recall drawing in a studio class in college, listening to Einstürzende Neubauten on a portable CD player, when someone asked me about listening to music while working, and I wondered whether the question would arise if there were merely loud construction outside the art building. If the question is whether artists ought to resist input that could determine their work, in some sense, music is just one sort of input that is less significant than nutrition and sleep patterns, which are also voluntary. I tend to believe that we're automatons no matter what. I do try to avoid drinking too much coffee before I settle into some creative endeavor.
Posted by Kriston at August 24, 2006 9:31 AMI do try to avoid drinking too much coffee before I settle into some creative endeavor.
Really? Large amounts of coffee is the best way I know to get good writing out of myself. I suppose it might be different for visual art, but I'm still sort of surprised.
Posted by: tom at August 24, 2006 12:13 PMSo - what's the influence on a drawing, say, if the artist is subjected to two hours of a street performer's violin interpretation of andrea bocelli's con te partiro? On repeat?
CON TE PARTIRO, capps.
I almost always have something playing while I work. Usually it's something that works as a supplemental to whatever thought process I have going on. Music, like any other cultural artifact has already had some influence on your thought patterns leading up to putting the ink, paint or whathaveyou into action, why not keep it in play while you're making your own work.
Posted by: R™ at August 24, 2006 12:29 PMI try to cap my coffee intake at around two-thirds of a pot per day, so I'm talking about quite a lot of coffee.
G: Something like this?
Posted by: Armsmasher at August 24, 2006 12:32 PMpretty close, actually.
Posted by: the g at August 24, 2006 12:46 PMwhat's the party line on crack cocaine or crack rock? one reaches the point of diminishing returns surprisingly quickly, this I can attest. But still, that 700 page (or was it word) tome I banged out in seventy-two hours only to devour page by page may have been the greatest story ever told. But who knows? My memory fails me.
Posted by: supershuttle at August 24, 2006 1:56 PM