Life span unnumbered is a single unit. A creative life, consummate, may be short or long.
Anthony Van Dyck, whose exhibit is currently running at Frick, died at the age of 42. Felix Mendelssohn died at 38; Franz Schubert at 31; Mozart at 35. They all died of failing health. Among literary figures, Stephen Crane and Arthur Rimbaud come to mind; they died at 29 and 37, respectively. Artists who died young include Raphael (37), Giorgione (32), Parmigianino (37), Adriaen Brouwer (33), Watteau (37), Seurat (32), and Modigliani (35), among many, leaving out those who willfully terminated their own life. On the other hand, there are artists of known longevity: Michelangelo (89), Titian (99), Hokusai (89), G. B. Shaw (94), Matisse (85), and Picasso (92). Most recent continuously creative centenarians dear to me include George Abbot (107), Mieczysław Horszowski (100), Will Barnet (101), Elliott Carter, (104), and Carl Schorski (100).
We often talk of short-lived creative people as having had a short life and died an untimely death. This is true if we rely on the numerical years by which one’s life is defined. A 100-year old has lived twice as long as a 50-year old. But this is odd.
When we examine a person’s life in terms of accomplishment and ignored the number of years lived, we might see that she or he had accomplished a life’s work in a shorter time span but the career was full. It is as though some of us walk faster with larger strides and others saunter more slowly toward the same goal. It is pointless to ask what Mozart might have composed had he lived till 90, or what kind of art Giorgione might have painted had he lived till 1550 when he would have been 72, painting side by side with Titian who was then 62.
A life freed of numbered years is the true life of an individual. She or he may accomplish a lot fast or very little within the same timespan; she or he may accomplish little or a lot in great many years. A creative career, I believe, is independent of the years lived.
No comments:
Post a Comment