These days Twitter is the crime of artistic onanism I lament. Heck, it’s even taking me away from blogging — but unlike blogs, after a few days, it gets very hard to be self-referential, as James talks about. Unless some serious structural changes happen, Twitter is truly ephemeral.

Conversations never have to die on the web. They can slip away from our attention, only to suddenly resurrect. Whether that makes them more ‘worth’ consulting, I don’t know. But an artform whose potential keeps growing through time can’t be all bad.

Is there a future in which old blogs will be, on average, more worth consulting (or at least more consulted) than old novels? Is that future already here?

On the subject of blog posts, I must say that I have discovered something interesting. Because I learned to write in a pre-blogging world, I find it more difficult to dash off a blog entry and to put it out there for all to see. Any of the few blog entries that I have written, have been revised and re-written numerous times before being posted. And then revised a couple times more after being posted. I find it very challenging to write in the blogging style, post an entry, and not give it another thought after it becomes public. I guess that means I am definitely a product of my generation.

As to the St. Onan metaphor. I empathize with Theric and do wonder whether blogging takes away from the substantive effort of writing literature whose shelf-life lasts beyond a week. However, I would say that we live in world connected in a very different way than the world ever has been before. Because of that, we must be a part of the dialogue and learn to work with the media as they present themselves to our present generation (whether we approve of the medium or not is another matter). But, I am convinced that our LDSness can transform any medium into a useful tool, capable of enhancing the Kingdom.

As to the discussion about the word choice and the actual St. Onan metaphor. I completely understand why Theric used those words, but I do worry about comparing “masturbation” with appropriate use of writing time. I understand, but I worry. I guess that belies the conservativeness of my nature, but there it is.

A final thought, related to the relationship between artistic boundaries and LDSness. My feeling is, “When in doubt, don’t.” That might be simplistic, but it is all to easy to go down a path from which one might never return. Even more worrisome to me is that an artist might lead his constituents down a wrong path by including something – that while it enhances the art and makes it compelling – may still not be right.

I enjoy this blog and the conversation very much. Thank you all for keeping the dialogue at an informed an intelligent level.

Mark IV – I see your point. I don’t interpret it, though, as giving someone “veto power” over our artistic creations. It was a conscious choice of mine that served to check my tendency to follow the Babylonian art world. By me choosing not to depict anything that would offend a more traditionally conservative Mormon, it stretched my capacity and made me pursue new channels I otherwise might not have.

It’s a constraint, much like the rigid structure of a sonnet, that can serve to strengthen and deepen your artistic impact.

For example: in my life drawing class, one day we were asked to focus on one body part of the model and to draw repeated studies of it and one final large-format piece. I don’t know how many of my classmates decided to study her breast all day. I lost count and lost interest. I drew her face. Strangely enough, during the critique, mine was the most controversial.

“You weren’t supposed to draw a portrait,” one of my classmates accused.

“We all drew portraits,” I pointed out.

I had to defend myself quite fiercely – the face is, technically, a body part, and quite frankly, a lot harder to capture than some of the more generic bits of anatomy. But for some reason, we have this cultural (Babylon) expectation that if you’re an artist you take a life drawing class and if you’re in a life drawing class you draw naked people and if you draw naked people you draw naked women and if you draw naked women you should probably draw their breasts.

I don’t see a problem with “vetoing” those sorts of cultural expectations either because they’re “inappropriate” or simply because they’re trite and tired and they represent the road most traveled by. We haven’t discovered the Zion Art yet by following any of the popular schools. We should embrace the opportunity to search it out in places where maybe our 21st-century sensibilities tell us not to waste our time.

I’m glad you pointed that out to me — I hadn’t looked at his links since c jane’s reviews. I’m off to read yours now!

I stress over these issues much more than my casual onanist references might imply. I fully expect to be disowned should certain family members ever read something with as much language as my J Golden story above.

I blogged about this a couple Januaries ago and my basic thought process remains the same if you’re interested. Basically, I’ve decided that God is on the side of truth and truth sometimes offends people.

This statement should not be interpreted as carte blanche to be gratuitously ugly just because ugliness “is”— I think of it as being rather like the right to bear arms. I suppose the Constitution does give a right to own bullets and whatnot, but if we choose to exercise that right, we had better be, ah, darn sure we’re being responsible citizens.

Dean Hughes told me the process by which he decided to cut all swears out of his writing and I respect him and that decision immensely–and I found his swearless means of depicting soldiers in the Children of the Promise series not the least bit awkward (not everyone agrees), and I try to follow his example whenever I can. But if the poor of speech need representation, I’m willing to provide it.

Thoughtfully. Always thoughtfully.

Oh, and Schlange—I like what you’re saying, but ‘adultery’ is such an ugly word. What would you say about ‘pollination’?

The answers to these questions aren’t set in stone and seem to evolve or prompt redefinition by each generation of artists and critics, either due to ignorance of the previous generations’ dialogues and conclusions or out of necessity, i.e. due to changes, specifically, in the Mormon artistic, intellectual, and institutional climate and, more generally, in the artistic and intellectual climate of the world. It seems that we swing, both institutionally (the Church and the Mormon arts and letters community) and individually (at least I do), between poles, at times camping near Babylon, focusing solely on aesthetic and other more secular concerns and achievement, even at the cost of establishing Zion, and at other times on the temple block, with such a strong sense of mission and (self-)righteousness that we turn dangerously inward.

If Eric Samuelsen’s AML Presidential Address from this year is any indication of where Mormon arts and letters now sits, we’re tracing circles in the dirt just east of Babylon, trying to circumscribe good art and bad (porn not included) beneath the banner of Post-modern Mormonism in our attempts to synthesize anything virtuous, lovely, of good report, or praiseworthy. Here (among other things) he essentially answers the question of audience, reminding us that we’re creating and reading for the world, including Mormons, and that we should be more inclusive, more generous and merciful in both artistic interpretation and creation, withholding judgment until we can see to the heart of text, author, and audience because, once there, we might just find “the face of God” staring back.

Having said that, I sense a significant divide between the Mormon academic/artistic community(ies) and the rank and file Latter-day Saints, those like Brother Heaps who hear the word damn or hell or read a passage of non-gratuitous intimacy and cringe at the explicit gall of “some people,” including “some Mormons.” The real challenge for Mormon artists and scholars seems to be maintaining artistic, intellectual, and spiritual integrity in the face of those who expect Mormon arts and letters to take the broad of didacticism and who may never visit AMV or the bloggernacle or see Onan as the Patron Saint of anything—for us to write, paint, act, direct, blog etc. in ways that support the Kingdom and the general Mormon and that push the limits of art and intellect into the heavens while maintaining a foundation on the earth.

Perhaps the real question we should be asking then is this: Can we create a literature/art sympathetic to Mormonism and the world while at the same time moving through Babylon and moving Babylon in our efforts to overhaul world culture (as Orson Whitney and Gideon Burton prophesied) and to establish Zion, which ought to be our greatest object? I believe we can, but how?

An afterthought: Maybe blogging/new media provides the answer…hurray for the blog!