Writers Open Windows to Unknown Worlds
"How is it that a work of art, bearing the mark of the artist's deep unconscious resources, can act on other people, on someone other than the artist himself? It is because the archetypes which flood the unconscious of all of us are part of a much larger collective unconscious. The work of art, being thus charged with the unconscious material we share with the artist, is able to arouse resonances within us." -- Jean E. Charon in "Man in Search of Himself"
I read Man in Search of Himself about the same time I read Joseph Campbell's The Hero with a Thousand Faces and they became a mantra. Using art to include fiction and poetry, it was clear to me just why the hero's journey had such a profound influence on so many novels and feature films. Over and above the action in the storylines, the myths that formed the basis of the work resonated with readers and viewers in profound ways.
The writer (publisher, producers, actors) seldom meet any of the readers and viewers who are drawn to their work. So, they seldom have a chance to compare notes about what they found in the work.
Whether it's a movie or a novel, the story--and advertisements and word of mouth promoting that story--is usually what draws people to a film or novel. Once there, the resonances that occur when writers and directors open windows to unseen worlds may not be imediately conscious. Quite often, readers and viewers will say a book or movie is a favorite, perhaps that they have gone back to it again and again, yet they will struggle trying to find the words to explain why.
The reason is often that some aspect of the myth--the mythos--behind the plot has struck a deep and emerging need within the reader or viewer that s/he has not yet discovered. In fact, as Marianne Burke writes in her book Re-Imagining Mary, artists who have provided sacred "scenes have provided us with 'windows' into depths unknown perhaps even to them."
The resonances, windows, depths, and myths may be unknown when the works are produced, only to be discovered later as artists, authors, producers, critics, readers and reviewers begin discussing just what it was that drew them into the story and, once there, what they found.
Carl Jung wrote in his Red Book that "To give birth to the ancient in a new time is creation." This birth happens because the writer/artist has conciously or subconsciously been drawn to an archetype and/or an old need within himself or herself to explore something that his/her life requires. So, s/he opens a window into a world that's been personally unknown within his or her experience.
Once that window is open, whatever is "out there" becomes part of the artist and--if it produces a strong impact--his or her paintings, screenplays and novels as well. While working on my novel Sarabande (due out this fall), I was drawn to the myth of Inanna's Descent to the Underworld. The story dates back thousands of years. Why did it resonate with me like one tuning fork next to another tuning fork?
Why the resonances now?
Perhaps the old story resonated with me now because it works so well as part of a heroine's journey novel. When you read Sarabande, you'll find the Inanna myth within it, and it will either resonate with you or it will pass you by as just another wrinkle in the plot. "Myths or mythos," writes Marianne Burke, "express truth closer to life's meaning than facts."
Such truths may be truths I have needed to deal with. That is, the Inanna myth may well have come forward now because it expressed truths my life was ready to accept. I tend to think this is the case rather than seeing the trials of an ancient Sumerian goddess as an interesting theme only within my novel.
Usually, rushing to answer such a question obliterates the question. It's rather like trying too hard to capture a dream that was so clear just moments before waking up. So, I tend to let the matter sit, simmering on the back burner, until the reasons it's important to me become clear. It's like that with readers and film viewers as well, I think. They come away from films and novels with truths and experiences that won't become evident for years to come.
--Malcolm
I read Man in Search of Himself about the same time I read Joseph Campbell's The Hero with a Thousand Faces and they became a mantra. Using art to include fiction and poetry, it was clear to me just why the hero's journey had such a profound influence on so many novels and feature films. Over and above the action in the storylines, the myths that formed the basis of the work resonated with readers and viewers in profound ways.
The writer (publisher, producers, actors) seldom meet any of the readers and viewers who are drawn to their work. So, they seldom have a chance to compare notes about what they found in the work.
Whether it's a movie or a novel, the story--and advertisements and word of mouth promoting that story--is usually what draws people to a film or novel. Once there, the resonances that occur when writers and directors open windows to unseen worlds may not be imediately conscious. Quite often, readers and viewers will say a book or movie is a favorite, perhaps that they have gone back to it again and again, yet they will struggle trying to find the words to explain why.
The reason is often that some aspect of the myth--the mythos--behind the plot has struck a deep and emerging need within the reader or viewer that s/he has not yet discovered. In fact, as Marianne Burke writes in her book Re-Imagining Mary, artists who have provided sacred "scenes have provided us with 'windows' into depths unknown perhaps even to them."
The resonances, windows, depths, and myths may be unknown when the works are produced, only to be discovered later as artists, authors, producers, critics, readers and reviewers begin discussing just what it was that drew them into the story and, once there, what they found.
Carl Jung wrote in his Red Book that "To give birth to the ancient in a new time is creation." This birth happens because the writer/artist has conciously or subconsciously been drawn to an archetype and/or an old need within himself or herself to explore something that his/her life requires. So, s/he opens a window into a world that's been personally unknown within his or her experience.
Once that window is open, whatever is "out there" becomes part of the artist and--if it produces a strong impact--his or her paintings, screenplays and novels as well. While working on my novel Sarabande (due out this fall), I was drawn to the myth of Inanna's Descent to the Underworld. The story dates back thousands of years. Why did it resonate with me like one tuning fork next to another tuning fork?
Why the resonances now?
Perhaps the old story resonated with me now because it works so well as part of a heroine's journey novel. When you read Sarabande, you'll find the Inanna myth within it, and it will either resonate with you or it will pass you by as just another wrinkle in the plot. "Myths or mythos," writes Marianne Burke, "express truth closer to life's meaning than facts."
Such truths may be truths I have needed to deal with. That is, the Inanna myth may well have come forward now because it expressed truths my life was ready to accept. I tend to think this is the case rather than seeing the trials of an ancient Sumerian goddess as an interesting theme only within my novel.
Usually, rushing to answer such a question obliterates the question. It's rather like trying too hard to capture a dream that was so clear just moments before waking up. So, I tend to let the matter sit, simmering on the back burner, until the reasons it's important to me become clear. It's like that with readers and film viewers as well, I think. They come away from films and novels with truths and experiences that won't become evident for years to come.
--Malcolm
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