She painted in such a way that I could see how each stroke had been applied with a kind of
perfected, even unearthly skill.

In reply to:

To me, art should go beyond that.

And to me, too. The point I make about O'Keefe's work is her art included great technical skill.

I heard a competition of young violinists once. Some played with heart; a few with skill. The winner played poorly, but performed a work by far more difficult than the other contestants'. He managed the technique and intonation in a few sections, but the work was well beyond his level. I think the judges gave him first prize just because he could labor through the work. And I thought there was a poor lesson there. He played poorly. He played out-of-tune most of the time. Forget spirit. He was laboring too hard to get through the movement. And one cellist who played well, but more simply, moved me, at least, with his performance. He showed a lot of potential and the technical elements were in place. He just wasn't show-boating.

And what I'm getting at here is in the arts, when I look for great art, I do want to have the chance to be impressed by technical skill. No, I don't want it to "hit me in the face" so that the technique obliterates the message. The message is the thing of heart or mind that is the point of creativity. And it's wonderful when Pound's edict to "make it new" occurs. But I love being overcome in how the whole work unfolds. The organic unity of the work and also the complexity of a great work. I like thinking, "I cannot do this. I cannot reproduce this. This experience is overwhelming. Even if I could technically do what is being done here, I can't pull off the elements that cause my emotional reaction."

It has something to do with form and function. It has something to do with mind and heart. And to be great, it has to have both the intellectual and the emotional or spiritual. I can be amused and delighted by balloons of color shot out at a blank canvas and seeing the serendipitous results there. But I don't think my level of delight will begin to approach that of sensing I'm in the presence of greatness. I can become excited to hear Faldage's room of banging musicians playing out of great spirit, but I won't ever put that happening on the same level as hearing Jessica Lee in recital at Curtis and hearing her Beethoven sonata that caused me to cry the next day to remember, so strong was her spirit, so great was her skill.

Aren't we, finally, spiritual beings? But isn't it spirit informed by intelligence? And can't we tell, really, when the Emperor is wearing no clothes?

I'd like to break that light bulb--at least where it resides in my brain--and say: "Accept this bulb turning on and off as great art? Well, step into this pit of darkness I just created with it."