Writer's Notebook

Janet's first impulse was to flick quickly through the report. Luke had never been particularly good at hiding his thoughts, so she already knew the conclusions. And the prose obviously wasn't going to be inspiring. But she knew how much this meant to Luke, so she forced herself to study it carefully. She began at the end. She always began at the end. Any serious document had contain its essence within the last few pages. You begin by stating your premise; you then summon up the arguments and lay down the evidence; but the conclusion is always the most important. How many times had she repeated these words to eager students on her P206 Modern Communications course? And how many times had Luke heard these words? He was obviously a good student. It was a masterpiece of textbook reporting; the conclusions were set down in a clear readable, if not exactly inspiring fashion.

A Study On The Nature Of Artistic Expression. In other words what makes an artist an artist. She still couldn't help but smile whenever she thought about the light-hearted banter they'd exchanged when he first told her what he was researching. They'd met just two nights before, and whereas it may not have been love at first sight, it didn't take long for Luke's easygoing manner to sweep her off her feet. Luke wasn't an artist. He was far too analytical for that. Art was the application of various techniques to come up with a composition pleasing to the senses. By this definition art was nothing more than discernible principles which could be applied by anyone to create anything. And that she knew was the basic premise of the group's report.

The study was presented in three parts. The first part dealt with the biological make up of the artist. Three eminent geneticists had conducted a series of experiments to isolate the genes in the human body responsible for artistic ability. They had failed, but refused to admit it in so many words, concealing their true conclusions behind a sea of conjectures. The second part was Luke's brainchild. In it he analysed the patterns discernible in creative compositions of varying kinds, coming up with a basic "how to" on art creation. It was well researched and forcefully argued. The final section attempted to weave together the findings of the first two sections and come up with a philosophy of artistic creativity. The whole thing was written in turgid, uninspiring, if exact prose. It read well, especially for a scientific document. But there was something lacking, sorely lacking.

Janet placed the document on her coffee table only too aware of Luke's expectant eyes fixed on her.

"Well, what do you think?" The excitement in his voice was all too evident. I think it's interesting, and it's certainly well-written. But there's something missing.

"And what's that?" Luke replied moving closer and putting his arm around her shoulder.

"I don't know. It's something indefinable; and totally mysterious. I doubt you'll ever find it. I know you'll never find it. Even I haven't found it, although I've got some small part of it."

And raising her glass she proposed a toast: