Oedipus as a Poet

It’s as though a map was drawn, and Oedipus was trapped on a road leading to a dead end.  This dead end, however, stabs Oedipus’ soul and releases an honest poetic nature exposed through the pain of his fate.    Oedipus may not be the artist of his own fate but he is responsible for the way he reacts to his downfall.  “They are your own blood: you will not let them fall into beggary and loneliness; you will keep them from the miseries that are mine!”(Sophocles 1449)  Through expressing Oedipus’ unending love for his daughters, this statement evokes the innocent passion of his emotions and the longing for his daughters to break the chains of their father’s entrapment. 

I longed for a feeling of catharses when ending Oedipus Rex, but his final invocation to his daughters left me with a sense of loneliness.  I understood that Oedipus’ tone of regretful remorse intended to do more than simply instruct his daughters what not to do in life.  I felt empty.

 But then it hit me!  Catharses entered my soul as I read the poetic melody of, “live as you can, be happy as you can,”(1457) which filled my heart with inspiration.  I flipped back through the pages and asked myself, how?  How can the words of such a distant character as Oedipus dive into such raw emotion?  I’m still trying to figure this out, and it will take more than and second reading of this play to discover the emotions of Oedipus.  I have a feeling it will require some sort of experience where I will have to live through a difficult decision or recover from an emotional or physical injury.  It will probably not be as excruciating as Oedipus’ realization of fate, but I think artistic emotion comes from real life experiences.  Similar to method acting, artistic passion develops from the ability to relate.  There are going to be days when I feel like I have no control over my future, but I will look back at the words of Oedipus and remember the inspiration they gave me.

Picture from:  http://www.mlahanas.de/Greeks/LX/OedipusKing.html

What makes an artist?

    After searching several dictionaries for a concrete definition of art, I came to the conclusion that art is undefined.  Words cannot explain such a concept, yet words are virtually a distinguished art form.  Before delving into such a vague myriad of enigmatic questions, I went back to square one.  What makes an artist? Who is truly capable of expressing the honesty of the human soul through a creative voice?  

    A painting done by a student with Down syndrome hangs in a case near the entrance of my school.  The beauty and honesty of this painting brings tears to my eyes every time I take a minute in between classes to treasure it.  The innocence of this student's world is depicted so beautifully in this work of art.  For a moment, I have the opportunity to see the beauty of the world through her eyes.  Keali'l Reichel states in his song, "Wanting Memories," that he is "sitting here wanting memories to teach me, to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes."  But in a world occupied with onlookers and unoriginal ideas, how can the beauty of the world really be seen through my own eyes?  

    In The Samurai’s Garden by Gail Tsukiyama, Matsu’s heartache and anguish are expressed in the art that is his garden.  His soul is shared with his garden and he is the artist, the creator of his masterpiece.  His garden grants him purpose and a commitment to his emotions that he expresses through his beauteous landscaping.  Matsu subconsciously epitomizes the authentic artist, a man able to express his emotions naturally without falsehood.  Unfortunately, we can’t all live in the serene solitude of Tarumi, Japan where artistic inspiration is just teeming through the quiet of the rolling waves on a moonlit sea.  It’s difficult to become one with the elements in the fenced-in communities of everyday suburbia, but those moments when the sun reflects perfectly off the mountainside and the honey crisp post-rainstorm air flutters in a breeze, inspire me to share my soul with the world.  And that’s what makes me an artist.  That’s what makes all of us artists.  I don’t need a self-portrait by Basil Hallward to existentially create isolated boundaries circling the artistic experience.  In The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde, Basil’s incredible artistic ability reveals secrets hidden within the depths of Dorian’s soul.  Basil’s painting is so secretly sardonic, it conceals Dorian’s flashy arrogance through expressing the horrifying appearance of his soul.  While I can agree that certain people could use a “Basil Hallward original” to dampen their overly explicit egos, the artistic power of self emotion should reveal some slice of the human soul and make someone a better person.  

    I have yet to discover the meaning of art, but I think that differs for every person.  I think everybody knows that one person that’s a total artsy guru and secretly intimidates an entire room with his/her incredible sense of color and shading.  But I want to see the unexpected occur.  I want to see the artist in all of us revealed through doing what we love.  Question: is that possible?  Answer: yes.