Being & Becoming an Artist
I’ve been hovering around several blogs commenting on 1) being an artist, and 2) becoming an artist. I need to begin here with my own exploration of being/becoming by stating, that so far the best handles (definitions) I’ve arrived at for what art is, and what an artist is are these; ART is highly-skilled creative expression, and ARTISTS are persons who must make art.
I don’t mean to sound all uppity and intellectual. It’s just that I’m struggling to find my own way. It seems to me being/becoming is a huge aspect of what art and art-making’s all about; discovery and self-discovery.
ART: Highly Skilled Creative Expression
As I’ve written here before about Contemporary Art, there’s very little about it that is either “highly skilled”, nor “creative”, nor “expressive.” And it’s certainly not for lack of training. Most of those who participate in the contemporary art world have earned at least a BFA, and many more hold MFA’s. So what I’m talking about has less to do with training, than well developed, well applied skills of creativity, excellence, and meaningful expression.
ARTIST: Must Make Art
I’ve worked with, talked with, commiserated with creative people at all stages of their creative careers. One central discovery which has lead me to my own definition of what I call a “true artist” is the idea that a true artist must make art. From Julia Cameron, through Madeleine L’Engle, to Eric Maisel, right into my own experiences and conversations; everywhere I turn some highly creative person is suffocating from a lack of opportunity to make their art. I won’t bore you with my own story of this experience except to say that it was arduous.
Which brings me to the part about discovery and self-discovery; the art-making I do, and that I watch others make very often contains the adventures of discovery and self-discovery. It seems to me that well applied discovery, implies growth, and with growth comes heightened abilities; the development of talents, and better skills.
This is what I dislike about the oft re-quoted saying that, “Everyone’s an artist.” I believe that everyone is creative, but certainly not that everyone is an artist. There’s only a handful of people who experience the suffocating effects of being denied (or of denying themselves) the opportunity to pursue highly skilled creative expression. As well, that same handful are driven to make meaning; to interpret, translate, and communicate.
Being
As for “being” an artist, well to my mind, there must be a willingness to pay the price of discovering and developing one’s skills and talents. I’m one of those artists who struggles with my creativity. It doesn’t come to me as it did to either Mozart, or Conan Doyle, already finished in their heads. No, I’m like so many others I encounter; we have to search, and experiment, and make wonderful mistakes, and feel our way toward the finished work. It’s a journey akin to chopping my way through a jungle of fears and excuses, the judgements and opinions of others, and my own self-doubts to uncover something of creative meaning. It’s a process I’ve discovered about myself, and have come to embrace it.
I’ve also found that “being” an artist is a life-choice; a 24/7 openess to input, ideas, and inspiration. It’s often a perception of the world others usually find odd, different, and even peculiar. It’s a willingness to grapple with this stuff and figure out a way to live with it, to get it out in some kind of creative manifestation, and share it with others.
Becoming
Becoming an artist; well to my mind, that’s a life-long pursuit. It’s a choice to get into the trenches and commit to whatever it takes. I remember popping out of college, degree in hand, feeling so finished and complete. Like my peers I was ready to make my mark in the world. Because school was behind me I figured that I had learned just about all I needed in order to get out there and make my art. Are you laughing yet?
In the daily process of art-making, I quickly learned that what I left school with was merely an ability more akin toward imitation than to originality. Little did I know that the wondrous journey of discovery had only begun. And I think most artists begin this way. I see it in young artists of all media all the time; they begin with what little they know, and that’s usually only what they’ve studied in school. I was no different.
It has taken years, decades even, to be willing to make this mistake ridden, experiment laden journey to find out who and what I am, and then to see my own creative voice emerge from all of that experience. And on it goes, the daily joy of discovery, and development; of growth in self-awareness and abilities.
Some additional perspectives and insights;
Making Meaning | The Cult of Genius | Sarah Jane Gray
jeffberryman | Don’t Forget What You’re Doing | Jeff Berrymen
Stone Works | The Need to Pay Attention | Luci Shaw
Would love to hear your views and experiences;
How do you realize the idea of “being an artist?” What does that mean to you? How do you pursue “becoming” in your art-practice? As it pertains to your art-practice, what does “being” and “becoming” mean to you?
American Visions and “Contemporary Art”
I am watching American Visions by Robert Hughes. It’s a wandering journey through the American psyche via our art and architecture, and it’s very telling. These two great institutions offer us a truthful vision into the historic depths of the American mind. These 5-episodes explain very well where our American thinking comes from, and why. It’s an amazing journey into an America our own history books do not, and will not offer. It’s a critical program, but that’s because Hughes lifts the romantic veneers we humans so often adopt to reveal demonstrable truths. He does get a thing or two wrong, revealing his own leftist worldview. But he can easily be forgiven that because he does not abuse his audience. Instead he gets on with doing what he set out to do, and rather balanced I might add.
This program is wonderful stuff, and for me, a visual artist, it is the best way to grapple with American history. It’s a panoramic portrayal of the American human landscape as seen through art and architecture, artforms which were reactive creations of our beliefs and values. Hughes is an extraordinary writer, and his narration is excellent, accurate, and clear. His choice of words is one of the delights of watching this impressive, and important series. I suggest that it become a mainstay in art history and American history classes of this country. I will watch and watch again, because I am certain of discovering new, deeper revelations with each viewing.
Something I sense in Hughes’ documentaries is an indication that most of the art of which he is speaking is a response to what’s going on at the time; a response to the context in which the artist is living. The art in the series is reactionary, being driven by the times in which it was conceived. Today however, it seems that contemporary artists are working diligently to drive society, culture, and especially governmental institutions. It’s almost as if artists today are no longer content to merely encourage, recommend, or suggest, but to force, insist, and demand. In this context, maybe most of what is deemed contemporary art, simply isn’t. Instead it is more akin to propaganda; a demand that the rest of us uninformed neanderthals ought to get with the program – whatever that is.
In watching, I am reminded of my younger days in which I could not penetrate the words of either the Bible, or the works of William Shakespeare. The Bible, I have been able to comprehend deeply. Shakespeare still eludes me, and I no longer try.
For me, the world of art in general has been just such an elusive construct. Robert Hughes, and others, have helped me grasp a good deal partly because I am a show and tell learner, and because I repeatedly view and re-view these documentaries. I learn best through repetition. Mine is not a mindless viewing. I am always listening deeply, and thinking about what I’m being shown. As I walk, one step at a time, closer to penetrating the “literature” of art, I am coming to understand where art comes from, why we make it, and what it means to us as human beings.
Because art is a product of the human enterprise, in our unique self-examination, it seems to offer ideas of what it means to be a human being in our own time. I think this means of explanation, even more than fads & fashions, is what drives much of the change we see in the art-making of each generation. Each has its own concerns, beliefs and values, and they’re not always cumulative. More often than not, the newest art movements are rebellions against the last, seeking to create a “new vision”.
Visual and performing arts are often physical manifestations of social philosophy. Lead by the artist, we seem to be looking for answers, trying to make some sense of life. The contemporary artist, seems however to have abandoned his fellow human beings for selfish introspection. This retreat is at the heart of my complaint about so much of the drivel so-called contemporary artists give us today. Contemporary art seems to be little more than a material rendering of one’s personal philosophy. It abandons all meaning, all worth, all highly skilled creative expression. I hate most of it.
I am a maker of story for people, of people, and by people. To my mind there is nothing of greater importance than the relationships we forge in our lives. Who cares about what some self-absorbed halfwit thought of a decade ago in light of our deep need for one another. It’s ironic, I think, that so many so-called contemporary artists seek mental solitude, and yet empty their already empty minds onto the stage of art galleries for all to see. It’s as if they have some deeply valuable secret of which they will only reveal the container and not the contents. I suppose we’re expected to become jealous of whatever it is they have holed up in their “works”. I’m rather inclined to call out, “The Emperor has no clothes!”
Art without an audience isn’t. And if the viewer cannot engage these deeply cryptic, self-absorbed, introspective offerings, then there may as well not be any audience at all. It is the relationship between the artist and the audience which makes this transaction meaningful. One without the other is simply mental masturbation and useless. Who writes anything except that someone, someday will read it? Who takes a photograph, in the context of making art, only to make the print and throw it into a box so that no one will see it? Who writes a play or makes a film only to shelve it so that no one views it?
Likewise, who, in their right mind, creates hyper-convoluted, cryptic nonsense within the empty confines of their own head, only to put it on display and bore us all to tears with a prolonged verbal explanation? The thing ought to speak for itself and if it needs prolific explanation, it’s an indication to me that there is nothing of any worth in it. Certainly there is nothing of any merit in the heart and mind of the person who created it to be shared with an audience.
Give me narrative, or at least the illusion of narrative so I can find my own, but don’t expect me to make an effort with no semblance of context or story. If you’ve nothing to offer me, why should I waste my time paying any attention?
