We are delighted to present a short video selection from the November Artist of the Month, anahata.c. He was selected from the Writers Gallery so we’ve chosen a short piece from his short story collection, Visits to the Middle Ages, read by Ricky Grove. Anahata.c is also a talented photographer with a gift for the poetic. His photographs are also featured in the story selection.
Anahata.c answered a few questions about his background, training and ideas on storytelling/writing. He offers advice for those just starting out as writers. Thank you, Anahata.c, for taking the time to talk with us. Be sure to visit his gallery where you will find his writing and photography.
Here are a few links provided by Anahata.c. The link to the story read in the video is here.
memory - father
photo-manipulation
graphic design
photography
How did you get started as a digital artist and writer?
Anahata.c: I was trained in classical and jazz piano, drawing and painting, and writing. I did my grad work in the interrelation of the arts. I also did commercial work (which taught me the world), and all these activities were physical. Digital was barely a dream back then.
When we heard about digital art, we thought it a gimmick. But as it emerged as a massive, independent field, totally un-reliant on physical art, and which led to degrees, a universe of methods and techniques, and softwares that packed a world into a program, we were stunned. I just hadn’t paid attention; when boom: There it was. I mean, think of it: I learned classical composition on the synthesizers of the '70s—which looked like Frankenstein’s Laboratory, were filled with knobs, wires and modules, and felt like the cockpit of a rocket ship: But we never dreamt that one day they’d make synths that stuffed all those sounds into a single box, along with whole orchestras, every imaginable sound effect, and gads of processing power—all into a chip the size of a quarter.
That’s what’s been done in digital. While nothing can replace physical art, nothing can replace digital either: They’re both infinite, they’re both branches from the same tree, they both involve the same amount of craft, precision and inspiration; and I’m blessed to have known both in my lifetime. I adore them both equally. They’re a joy.
What is your writing process?
Anahata.c: Unlike writers who work from plot, my tales begin with words, feelings and characters piled up in a mount in my living room, so to speak. Imagine someone dropping a Santa's-bag full of writing-ideas on your rug, which roll around like mice, slip under your carpets and behind your shelves; and your job is to rally them together and turn them into a tale. That’s my process: I’m not being facetious; it’s that wild. Though we’re trained to think of creation as ‘orderly’—classical training’s especially staunch on that—it still calls us, jostles us, contradicts and upturns us. It’s messy an it guides us, as much as we guide it.
Fantasy is the subject you write most about: why is fantasy so interesting to you?
Anahata.c: Suppose you’ve had a beautiful day, and you want to “take the sun with you”: That’s simple reality. Meaning, you have to leave, you have a desire, and you express it. Could be the beginning to a realistic novel…
But in one of my tales, a young girl—
“finished her work, gathered a bunch of sun rays, stuffed them in her basket—leaving several for the animals who were hungry (they hadn’t had enough sun that week)—and waltzed home…”
Silly, yes, but it’s how dreams become events as if they actually happened. That’s fantasy for me.
If I might, the same girl at sunset, from the same tale:
“…we raced through the yard when the sun set, got caught in a tree, bounced among the branches, stopped to share a sunspot with a bird, then careened to the ground, zipped around—sniffing everything like a ravenous puppy—and splashed into the neighbor’s birdbath: God…”
Same thing…but it’s about bowing to the child inside us. It’s the basis of much folklore, and I’ve been drawn to it all my life. Fantasy, for me, isn’t unreal; it’s just a different ‘kind’ of real…
Fantasy, for me, isn’t unreal; it’s just a different ‘kind’ of real…
I really like your photographs which are often perfect for the stories they illustrate: what got you interested in photography?
Anahata.c: Thank you, Ricky, but it was wildly unplanned: A dear RR friend (helanker) gave me her old camera in the hope I’d take up photography. (Note: She made magic with that little beast: It gave me something to aspire to.) I fell in love with it! I mean, carrying around this little image-maker, and making art out of anything one runs into? A revelation. (This was before good phone cameras.) It’s a vast art, but I adored learning it…I did realism for some time but ultimately turned to manipulation: i.e., making fantasies out of photos. (Very much like my writing.) I simply adore it.
Any advice for the writer/photographer just starting out?
Anahata.c: I hope this will convey what I feel…Years back, I was working for a theater group (doing music and a little clean-up), when the lead actor bounded onto the stage, and did a 15-minute soliloquy on her character—right in the middle of rehearsal! (She played a female version of Hickey from “The Iceman Cometh” by Eugene O’Neill). She had the audacity to write a speech expressing astonishment at her character, and stick it near the end of the play. At first, we thought she was crazy…but, slowly and imperceptibly, she so pierced the center of her heart and reached a place so intimate and shattering, everything dissolved in its wake—the auditorium, the play, us (we ceased to know ourselves, in other words); and all that was left was this bared and wrenching soul, turning her litanies into sheer beauty. She attained what Stanislavsky called “public solitude”—being utterly alone in front of the world—which cut us to the core. Reborn, recast, renewed…that’s the power of art. That’s its immense power.
Whether with one’s slightest or heaviest work, it’s about opening your soul to the world, and learning how a single moment or line or hue can shine like a galaxy, sing like a deity. If you feel foolish doing that, welcome to the club: “Fool” is written into the contract…but it’s about love before strangers, our most intimate passageways before the world; and, if you’re willing to give that, you’ll join the lineage of artists who’ve done it for ages and emerged at the gates of heaven. Even anguish can become light in that place: That’s the gift of art, and that’s what I’d say to beginners…
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