Homer. Leonardo da Vinci. Paul Simon. Picasso. Roger Federer. Mark Twain. Theodore Roethke. Josef Haydn. Toko Shinoda. Norman Maclean. James Taylor. Ernest Hemingway. Helen Frankenthaler. Bob Dylan. Arthur Ashe. Eva Cassidy. Thomas Keller and Jose Andres.
What’s the thread that links them? I can’t really explain it. It’s personal. It’s inside of me—but each one has given me something enduring, inspiring, touching and aspirational. Each of them created something enduring. Something to admire. Something beyond the ordinary or even beautiful. Not one of them is perfect, but each one represents near perfection in their chosen art. They are my touchstones of creative excellence, artistic execution and longevity.
Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about longevity, durability, resilience, creativity and balance. Reflecting on how certain artists imbue their art and artistry with an almost super-human quality. I’m nearing the end of my ninth decade. I try to live in the present but have concerns about the future. The world seems to tilt then recover in ever more dangerous cycles—but it does always seem to recover.
Art is a place of retreat where I find comfort. I look at my list and think about what these artists have given me. When I was younger I thought about the gratification they conferred, but as I aged I began to realize it was not just the beauty of their achievements, it was also their durability and resilience. About their staying power and what makes them last? It’s hard to know with intangibles. What feels different now is that I think about how they have survived and continue to inspire.
I don’t claim any special insight, and we’re all different, but I have a reverence for my favorite books, music, art and artists, the ones that have continued to supply both pleasure and wonder after all these years.
Last week in an interview, Paul Simon was asked which of his songs he thought would endure. Without hesitation he said he thought The Sound of Silence, written 61 years ago, would make the cut.
Hello darkness, my old friendI’ve come to talk with you againBecause a vision softly creepingLeft its seeds while I was sleepingAnd the vision that was planted in my brainStill remainsWithin the sound of silence
I agree. The Sound of Silence is a classic that has and will continue to endure, but later last week he released a new album called Sacred Psalms, seven hymn-like songs with echoes of the Pachelbel Canon that will bring tears to your eyes. Another example of his genius.
These are the artists that have given me so much pleasure and comfort over the years. I hope in a small way this will encourage you to think about the art and artists that have done that in your life. Step away from the news cycle. Turn off all notifications. Forget about to-do lists and honey-dos. Close your eyes and think of the art and artists that have given you enduring pleasure over time.
I’d love to show you more examples from my list, but I’m going to finish with a poem that has been with me since 1956. Theodore Roethke was one of my teachers at the UW and a stickler for learning classic forms before experimenting with looser less structured forms. This one is a villanelle.
The Waking
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
Jack, we just spent some time I Florence, getting recharged on the art world. Timely post for me, thanks, Jay