By Laura P. Valtorta
Art begets art. Painting has intercourse with music and produces poetry. Playwriting marries the Philharmonic and their children are operas.
To jump-start my own creative writing, I may read, listen to music or see a movie. Maybe all three. For rapid inspiration, I visit an art gallery.
Two things recently helped grease the wheels of my memoir: Visiting Ginger’s house, and seeing the movie “The Sessions,” starring John Hawkes and Helen Hunt. Ginger’s House is a living art gallery – filled with painted walls, found objects, and junk sculpture. The house has a voice all its own.
“The Sessions” is a movie about love and disability that the directors thought about for many years and had trouble selling to the less-artful commercial world of Hollywood. When I saw “The Sessions,” I immediately understood something about hardship and compassion. Something better expressed in poetry or music, or tales about my clients and how they keep my spirit alive. “The Sessions” sends a realistic message about love.
All art is a rarefied form of communication, a direct pathway to the sensual side of the brain. Like a strong smell, art bypasses criticism and conversation. The best inspiration for a poem about a turtle may be one of Peter Lenzo’s sculptures about schizophrenia.