This will probably not be the last time I regret having posted that rant about what flytying is to me. I would delete it, but it is what it is - a rant that reflects what I was thinking at the time and is open to the criticism of others. I hope it dies a quiet death as that thread gets buried beneath many others, but that might be too much to hope for, what with Louis prowling around. Someday I'll post some fly I tied with foam, plastic, rubber and glow-bug yarn, and Louis will be there to bump my rant back into the limelight. On second thought maybe I should delete it.
I agree with you, Mark, that great art comes from a synergy between our artistic and analytical bents. I would contend that the ideal is when the distinction between the two blurs and they happen simultaneously in our thinking. Many people, as you observe, do in fact get so tied to the "real world" that they forget how to be imaginative and creative. I see that happening to myself in some ways even as other aspects of my thinking improve. For example, I used to be able to fake all sorts of accents, but when I try to do that now I'm embarrassingly bad at it - nothing worse than a bad impression. Too many years of neglecting the skill, I guess.
I find that the opposite problem afflicts too many artists, though - they use their right brain to the exclusion of reason, and their art as a result is sloppy and without clear vision and context. Perhaps this is a reflection of anything-goes post-modern thinking and our general aversion to judging any expression as objectively good or bad. But I see a lot of what I would just call bad art, and I think much of it comes from artists having their heads in the clouds instead of their feet on the ground.
Arnold Schonberg wrote a lot of dissonant atonal music at a time when composers were really questioning what constituted music and pushing its limits. His work was about as modern and cutting-edge as it got, yet he wrote within traditional frameworks. When asked why he didn't go as far as others in deconstructing the overall musical structure, his response was simple: Without a context, music would devolve into chaos and cease to be music - how do you compose on a foundation of nothing? This has always struck me as sound reasoning.
Perhaps in art there is no right or wrong. An artist can't truly be an artist while playing by all the critics' rules. Perhaps the lines we draw and choices we make, then, are largely for ourselves. But drawing them is important, I think, in giving us a framework for our creativity. I have no doubt my opinions about flytying will change, but I won't apologize for having them. Whether others agree with them or not, they guide me.
-Shawn