Web of Art
Rapture in the story,
power in the strands,
beauty in the blood and sweat and tears.
The web in all its glory,
the best of men’s laid plans,
ensnares us in our greatest loves and fears.
The Strands of the Web are the elements that make up the Story. They are the stuff that story is built of, the glue that holds it together, and the structure upon which it is built.
Specifically, in writing terms, the Strands are– everything. Plot and prose and punctuation, every decision the writer makes– every decision the director or painter or choreographer makes– is a strand in the Web of Art.
It is a fine thing, as a reader– or viewer, or listener– to take pleasure in the story, to be caught in a well-woven web. That is, after all, its purpose. But would it not be finer yet to take joy in the Story and the Strands both?
The Strands– spun right, strung right– are powerful in and of themselves, and it can be awe-inspiring to look past the tapestry to the stitches.
Can you love the composition of a paragraph, not simply the paragraph itself? More than being swept along in its flow, to step outside of it and run your eyes over the workmanship and wordcraft.
That carefully chosen, single-word sentence, then the poignant line ending in a semicolon, followed by a breathless string of commas, ’til the words smash into the period– then one short sentence, the wrap-up or summation or stroke of finality.
To look at a well-built anything, in awe not just of the finished product, but of the craftmanship, will add levels to your love and layers to your life.