Young Talent
Last week I attended a one-woman show opening at our local center for the arts for a young artist—Brooke Gavelle—who I first met at a coffeeshop where she was a barista. Over the course of our brief conversations, I learned about her work as an artist and in brief snippets we’ve exchanged minor observations on art and life. I had never seen her work before. She is something like twenty or twenty-one and some of the work in her show dates back to her teens. The level of her talent is extraordinary, yet perhaps every bit as impressive is the range of her work and her willingness to experiment. She paints with traditional techniques and materials but also featured work where she is painting abstract images with mud from local lake beds and detailed fossil-like miniatures using ink that is derived from a specific species of rotting mushroom. Landscape, portraiture, still-life, self-portraits, abstracts, jewelry—to see the range of her work and interests is inspiring. She has me thinking more generally about the nature of the creative arts and the frequency with which you can encounter young artists who shock one with their mastery of technique and give one heart at the sophistication of their ideas. In Brooke’s case her artwork is accompanied by detailed descriptions and short narratives about the work that demonstrate depth of thought about what she is attempting and about larger life philosophies that infuse the art.
I wrestled with some of my curmudgeonly thoughts in this space last week, which included asking question of some current trends among youth, and encountering both the person and the artistry someone like Brooke represents is a welcome and wonderful counterpoint. Every time I make sweeping statements about a generation—young or old—that needs balanced by these kinds of powerful individuals that deny generalization. We can choose to see the bad or the good with anything and that certainly includes ages and eras and groups and generations. In twenty-one years in classrooms I experienced daily reminders about the brilliance and capacity of young people and knew many students well who I would wish to become future leaders, even the sort of leaders who might lead us out of some of the quagmires we have created. No matter a person’s age, I wish to be surrounded with those who want to grow, to expand their knowledge, who are open to new ideas and new ways of seeing. I love aspirational people. Those fascinated by the mysteries around us rather than accepting the status quo and certainly not those who follow any person or idea, trend, or convention meekly.
(And if I tell you the manuscript I’m trying to complete revisions on at the moment is a novel set in 1926 and one of the main characters is a flapper, you’ll understand this image—titled “Adeline”—from Brooke I’ve included. Visit her website to see more of her work.)
Mending Fences along the Great Divide
Such a generational reminder Brooke has inspired in me has more generalized applications as well. I have been trying, with the mixed success of rudimentary dance steps that moves me sometimes forward, sometimes backwards, and frequently sideways, to see the good in all those around me regardless if I know we see the world from quite divergent perspectives. Those of you who follow me here have read about these attempts before and have heard my position on the importance of not being dismissive of other viewpoints, something heightened in this time of such great division. Two nights ago, I finished reading Betsy Gaines Quammen’s 2023 book True West: Myth and Mending on the Far Side of America. It’s a great read and an important book. Quammen is a historian by training and as the subtitle implies, she takes on the essential myths that define so much of people’s vision of the American West and then carries them forward into this current era where many of the same old forces take on new faces and new methods that are vital to understanding the region. Her approach is a lot like what I love about Barry Lopez’s work and his penchant to take what I call the “wagon wheel” approach to nonfiction subjects, placing an object or place or idea in the position of a center hub and then pursuing as many “spokes” or lines of reasoning as possible to try and understand it. This lead Quammen all sorts of places, including, importantly, the forces behind why so many ultra-conservatives are currently hijacking the Western tradition of balanced power and practical, common sense thinking that cultivates a lot more of the middle than either fringe. In the last chapter of the book, she emphasizes that thing I believe we all must remember, that when you cast the fringes aside people tend to have a lot more in common than they have differences. She speaks about people she met during the writing of the book with whom she shares almost no ideological or political ground but whom, nonetheless, she enjoys immensely and looks forward to spending time with. I can absolutely relate. Near the very end of the book Quammen writes, “…I do believe that we will not move beyond our entrenched positions unless we spend time with those who do not see eye to eye with us. It’s crucial to hear people from their own mouths, not from memes.” She then quotes Montana Poet Laurette Chris La Tray with his question: “When did we chuck our common sense and neighborliness for nonstop inflamed, divisive, and disembodied bombast?” (And by the way, True West is on the shortlist for the Mountain and Plains Booksellers “Reading the West” awards; the public get the final say and you can vote here; voting continues through May 31st.)
Speaking of Prize Season
While Man, Underground didn’t make the final cut in the fiction category for “Reading the West,” it did make the long list, and given the extraordinary quality of the books on that list, I can’t quite believe it is in the same company, including my literary hero, Tim O’Brien.
I am thrilled to share that my quirky little underground man and his sidekick were awarded 1st Runner-up honors for general fiction by the Eric Hoffer Award. This award focuses on small and independent presses, the lifeblood of literary fiction, and is a tribute to my publisher, Regal House Publishing, as much as to the novel. A few weeks ago, Publisher’s Weekly devoted their issue to small presses for the first time in their history and Regal House graced their cover. I am so pleased to have my work published by this fantastic, woman-owned press.
Writing Exercise
If you read this space regularly, you know that I’ve been on something of a kick about characters and self-deceit lately. (What does that say about me? Guilty as charged. Hey, come on, I’m a novelist, so I make my living by lying—of a sort—so wouldn’t it be self-delusional not to be self-delusional?). It’s also a big theme in the manuscript I’m actively revising and so it is top of mind. So one more exercise (adapt to nonfiction as you see fit—anything narrative based easily can):
(Stretching the self-deceit a bit on this one because we’re looking at origins…) What is a bit of self-deceit your character holds that was first implanted in them by others, well-meaning or not? Sometimes parents, spouses, partners, mentors so want the person they love to believe something about themselves that it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy … or a terrible burden. Have fun with this. Know that it can lead you to some marvelously revealing terrain for better understanding your characters. (Like most of my character-based writing exercises, these can equally be well-used for some self-therapy; unearth those daddy- mommy-issues.)