----- Original Message ----- From: "Doug Henwood" <dhenwood at panix.com>
On Jun 1, 2011, at 6:29 PM, Michael Smith wrote:
> Even Milton... not a particularly anxious
> guy, I would have said.
Of course not. He's the big strongman of the canon. It's the ephebes that are anxious.
Doug ___________________________________
Is it? Is it really? Here is a passage from Chekhov's letters in which he describes the influence of Tolstoy on Russian writers:
"I dread Tolstoy’s death. If he died, a large vacuum would be formed in my life. In the first place, I have never loved any human being as much as I do him. I am an unbeliever, but of all faiths I regard his as the nearest to me ….Second, when Tolstoy is part of literature, it is easy and agreeable to be a writer; even the knowledge that you have not accomplished and never will accomplish anything is not so terrible, for Tolstoy makes up for all of us. ….Third, Tolstoy, with his enormous authority, stands firm, and as long as he remains among the living, bad taste in literature, all vulgarity, insolent or tearful, all harsh, embittered vanities, will remain remote and in deep shadow. Only his moral authority is capable of keeping so-called literary moods and trends at a certain height. Without him, it would all be a flock without a shepherd, or a jumble in which it would be hard to find one’s way."
I don't hear anxiety. I hear homage and gratitude.
Why not think of artists as we do of distance runners? Once somebody broke the four minute mile, all of a sudden a whole lot of people were also able to break this "natural" limit.
Is the engine of creation the fear that we won't measure up?
It seems rather that great artists expand the realms of the possible and refine our capacity to observe and to discover.
Joanna