Why Don’t Ants Have Art?

Lady Glamis has a series on her blog on the nature of art.

Questions like this tend to send my mind down different lanes. Look at the beautiful sand castle in the picture. I would call it art if humans had crafted it. In fact, however, it’s a termite fortress, and I wouldn’t call it art. Not because it was created by non-humans, but because it wasn’t created for any of the reasons art is created.

If you are like me (I hope, for your sake, you aren’t), you spend an inordinate amount of your time asking yourself, “How do humans differ from the social insects? And why?”

Our species has, in some ways, much more in common with ants than with other mammals. No other mammals build heated and air conditioned appartment buildings, share nursery duties on a large scale, divide labor into different roles, wage wars. Ants do.

But ants do not paint, sculpt, write or dance. They clearly could, if they were moved to, just as they weave leaves into homes or build bridges across rivers. They just don’t because, after all, what purpose does art serve?

What purpose does art serve? In the essay of Lady Glamis’ friend, it’s suggested art makes us feel; perhaps it also leads us away from wickedness and toward goodness. (This was a matter of contention in the comments section.) Perhaps. Ants, after all, don’t have morality or religion either. Why on earth would we need external, physical objects made by our fellow beings to help us feel? Yes, it’s a form of communication, but of such a subtle and subjective nature it cannot be of any use for the usual purposes communication serves.

From the earlies age, children naturally create art. All human beings, and all human cultures, crerate some art. We can argue about who does it better — perhaps the competition to perform or create superior art is the only explanation for how it evolved? — but that doesn’t explain why we do it at all. Why we need it. Why the thought of a society which suppressed all art is an example of a living hell. Why the struggle to control art is dear the hearts of all who hunger for power over the minds of their fellows.

Suppose you were the last human being left alive on Earth. No agents, no audience. No buyers, no lovers. No reason to create art. Would you?

I don’t know about you, but I probably would. It would, in fact, be only through the creation of art I would endure such a situation at all. And that’s quite strange, isn’t it?

A Wasted Day

There are many days I can’t work because I have other pressing activities. That’s frustrating, but it’s a neccessary evil. Today, however, I had time to work, and wasted it. That’s beyond frustrating. It leaves me deeply depressed.

Of course, I suppose I was depressed to begin with, since instead of working, I stewed the whole day long in stressful thoughts about my inability to face the future with my current resources (mental as well as physical). It was one of those days when my inadequacies pointed and laughed at my aspirations, and even at noon, the sun shone grey. I ate too much, tasted too little.

I scrolled through various Word files on my screen, but typed nothing. I thought about painting, but baskets of laundary were piled between me and my art desk. I thought about doing laundary, but returned to my computer.

Scrolled some more, typed nothing.

Worried some more, solved nothing.

Tommorrow, I am not going to worry, and I’m not going to even try to type one word. I think I’ll read. And try to go outside.

Another Round

I finished another round of revisions in order to have a draft for my later beta readers. In this version, which is still rough around the edges and missing one scene, I strengthened the story line of the hero.

One of the critiques of an early beta reader was that the story made a promise to the reader at the start which was never carried out by the end. I’ve revised that so that hopefully the reader will see how the story promise has been delivered. (Vague, I know, but I don’t want to get too much more specific.)

While working on revisions, I’ve simultaneously been working on the second book, but I’m now now sure. Should I keep working on book two or should I “refresh the palette” with some work on another book?

I suppose I’ll follow my inspiration; if I continue to go strong on book two, I will. But sometimes it does help me to take a break between projects and work on something completely different.

Does anyone else do that?

In Need of Villains

I have an idea for an Urban Fantasy, but I need an idea for the Big Baddies. I’m tired of demons, werewolves, and vampires. A goverment conspiracy run by a corrupt US senator who wants to sell arms to terrorists? Uh, no. That is so done.

What kind of villains would be original, badass, re-newable (can’t be just one dude, I need my heroes to plow through a lot of ’em), something interesting enough you’d like to read it?

Both sf (aliens, robots) and fantasy (demons, necromancers) type ideas welcome. What kind of villain hasn’t been done that would be supercool?

Guest Post on The Literary Lab

The Literary Lab was kind enough to invite me to guest blog. This week they are exploring the strengths and weaknesses of different genres. I’ve taken the opportunity to jot down a theory I’ve developed on the appeal (or repulsion) of Epic Fantasy.

Passing Time in Fiction

Following my post on middles, I reflected on what it is about the middle which is specifically giving me the most trouble. I’ve decided it’s because the middle is where I need time to pass, without specifically showing it. The beginning runs fairly fast, over a few weeks, and the ending runs quickly as well — over just a few days in fact. In the middle, however, nearly a year must pass.

You know those sequences in movies? Where they show montages of characters doing things, intersperced with pictures of the trees losing their leaves, growing frosty, then budding into green? How does one show this in a novel? Especially because I want the reader to have a sense of being right there with the characters all along, I don’t want to say, “A year later…” because that feels like we’ve left the characters to their own devices for a year, then returned to them. I’d like to show little bits of scene and scenery every half dozen weeks as the year goes by, then return to the blow by blow action at the end.

And all of this is complicated by the fact that I’m juggling two timelines, because there’s a flashback sequence interspliced with the main storyline.

What are your best techniques for passing time that you’ve used or read? Any ideas?