Tuesday, November 19, 2013

What Vincent van Gogh Taught Me About Plagiarism

Self Portrait with Felt Hat
Have you ever heard a comment that stopped you in your tracks? I recently asked an author friend what she was reading. She replied that she doesn't read when writing or editing for fear she'll plagiarize someone.

That stumped me.

For me, reading is akin to breathing - a physical necessity. I read all the time and usually have several books in play at once. I simply hadn't considered the possibility that because I read while editing or writing that someone else's work might end up in one of my books.

The Chambers Dictionary, New Ninth Edition, defines 'plagiarize' as: "to steal ideas or writings from another person and present them as one's own."

My friend's comment hung in the back of my mind. It worried me a bit until my husband and I spent the better part of a day in the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. That was the first time I realized how much effort Vincent, arguably one of the finest artists in history, put into copying other people's art.

I adore Van Gogh's work. It's simultaneously soothing and uplifting to me. But Vincent van Gogh was a plagiarist. A blatant copyist. And you know what? That makes me respect him all the more.

Many people think Vincent was an out and out nutter (thanks to the whole ear incident and a few other odd events), but if there's one thing that Van Gogh understood, it was that he had much to learn as an artist.

The Courtesan (after Eisen)
He was mostly self-taught and used the works of painters he admired to explore their techniques, and eventually, to develop his own. Vincent greatly admired Jean-Francios Millet's style and copied at least 21 of Millet's paintings, adding his own influence through the use of color. He dabbled in the pointillist style of painting developed by Georges Seurat and Paul Signac and made outright copies of Japanese prints by Hiroshige. All in the aid of furthering his own abilities, of developing his own style.

We treasure these copies, these attempts to imitate someone else's work just as much as we treasure Van Gogh's originals, such as Starry Night, The Potato Eaters, and the Sunflowers paintings. Vincent's copies are attributed as being 'after' a particular painter to credit the original artist. There is no doubt that Van Gogh was using the work of someone he admired to help develop his art rather than trying to pass the works off as his own.

But now we come to writers.

Hear me clearly: am I saying that plagiarism as an author is a good thing?

Absolutely not.

What am I saying? That reading the works of people I admire is crucial to how I develop my style, my technique, my ability to pace a plot, to grow a character, to write believable dialogue, to create stories that capture the imagination.

Peasant Woman Binding Sheaves (after Millet)
This is no different than a musician who listens to other musicians and hears and modifies a particular riff. Robert Johnson, the famous bluesman, recorded modified versions of several existing recordings such as Skip James' 22-20 Blues and Devil Got My Woman, changing them so much that they became his own. These in turn influenced groups such as the Rolling Stones, who further evolved this original blues style into the gritty rock 'n' roll sound they're famous for today.

The Lennie Tristano method of teaching jazz focused on singing solos by Lester Young and other jazz greats, note for note. Not so they could be reproduced note for note, but rather so the musician incorporated the style, the feeling of those tunes into their own music, and then used improvisation to make the music their own. 

While I'm editing, I deliberately read books by authors whose writing captivates me. Rather than being fearful that I'll plagiarize them, I'm hopeful that the qualities about their writing that I so admire will seep into my brain and influence how I write, not necessarily what I write.
Skull with Burning Cigarette

I'm grateful for my friend's comment about her fear of plagiarizing someone else's work. I'm equally grateful that we were in Amsterdam at the Van Gogh Museum not long after. Vincent taught me that studying the works of those we consider great, in an honest attempt to improve ourselves, can only help us mature, regardless of our art.

What about you? Do you find reading a source of inspiration while you write or edit, or is it a distraction?

photos taken by Gae-Lynn Woods at the Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Calf Weaning as Writing Inspiration

They say you should write what you know, and right now, I know about decibels. This time of year, I wonder if raising cows is worth the hassle.

Newborns look so innocent
It’s weaning season, which means it’s noisy on the ranch. A lot of farmers calve in the winter and then wean in the summer. We plan our calving (to the extent that we can control the amorous advances of our 2,000 pound bull) for spring. This gives the mothers access to fresh, nutritious grass to help them rebuild their strength after being pregnant through the winter, and also ensures the calves can start grazing as soon as possible. Early grazing helps the calves put on weight because they have access to both milk and grass.

It’s hugely entertaining to watch calves go from wobbly newborns to curious youngsters through the summer. During that time, they’re grazing, nursing, and learning to eat the little bit of feed we give them through those normally green months. They’re also gaining some independence, forming cliques, and venturing away from the herd to graze with their ‘friends’. By the time autumn rolls around, the calves are about six months old and it’s time to stop them from nursing so their mothers can put on weight for the winter and get ready to deliver the next batch of calves. 

Unhappy bull calf...
Despite the calves’ pretensions of independence, they’re still babies at six months old. And like human babies, they bawl for their mothers as soon as they’re separated. The cows add to the noise because their udders are full of milk, but there are no calves around to drink it. So, for a few days, it’s a moo chorus around here, night and day. (Secretly, the cows must heave a sigh of relief when the calves are weaned. It’s hard work nursing a 500 pound baby, and for all the belly-aching, I think the mommas are happy to see the babies weaned.)

Thankfully, our nearest neighbors are about a quarter of a mile away, so it’s only us who lose sleep for these few days. Ear plugs are some help, but it’s amazing how much noise one six month old calf can make, much less a whole herd of them. We’ll give them six weeks to put on some weight, then it’s off to the sale barn they go, to repay some of the investment we’ve made in them and the ranch.

So right now, weaning is what I know. Will I be able to work the experience into a
story? I think so. Whether it’s a neighbor who goes nuts over the noise, a rustler who takes advantage of the chaos to steal some cows, or a calf stampede, yes, I’ll find a use for weaning. And given that I write crime novels, a fictional someone will probably die in the process. Time to find a victim…

photo credit: quinn.anya via photopin cc