SED Artist

Who is the Artist ?

Who do these people think they are, telling you if you are, or if you are not, an artist? My art teacher, during the most crucial years of my self-development, told me once, that I didn’t have what it takes to be an artist, and that it doesn’t matter anyway because everything has already been done, therefore nothing new can ever be created. Isn’t that so funny ? I find it exhaustingly funny, so funny in fact that I think I may have accidentally made it my life’s purpose to prove him wrong. How can someone else, a person who is external to you, with only snippets of what you allow them to see of you, and what they want to see of you, decided that you are or are not cut out to be an Artist. Being an artist is determined by the way you think, the way you see, and imagine, and feel, and do. Essentially, it is you, and only you, who can decide if you are, or not, an artist. People tend to do this pretty early on, tell others that they can’;t do this, they can’t do that, they are no artist after all. Well, in that case, the decisions is made and in fact, it is true, you will not be, you will not become, an artist. Teachers however, art teachers, somehow believe that it is in their power to tell you this, striking you down within but the first births of your creative intuition. It breaks my heart to imagine all the artists a teacher might have killed, purposefully or accidentally. It is almost expected of an artist to be born with a gift, they either have it or they don’t. Tell me of one person who has ever achieved the peak of their career, whether art, maths, or any other subject, within moments of their birth, or even their first few years. No one. Of course no one, although you might have a creative predisposition, it is the life you lead, and the things you learn, that make you better at what you do, and thank goodness.

Art, like anything else, is something you learn about and progress at, and in the same way, an artist is something you become. As you encounter obstacles, or thoughts, and feelings, and people, as you form opinions, beliefs, and observations, you will develop that creative inhibition, no matter how large of one you were born with. Art is not something that ever stays the same, nor is the artist, and therefore it can never be judged solely in one moment. An artist is something you become through life, as you meet obstacles, and thoughts and feelings, as you form opinions and observations. Art grows with you. It isn’t something that ever stays the same, and therefore it can never be judged solely in one moment. 

It can seem unfair, to a person who pours not only their heart and soul into their practise, but also their time, money and energy. Art is physical, of course, and it is technical, we all know this, but it is so much more than that. Yes, as Helena Bonham Carter says, broadly “The way you love someone, your smile […] And the way you feel. Life is art.” Although I wholeheartedly agree, it is not quite the approach I am trying to navigate, but rather I am exploring, Art is life. Yes, I know, it is a broad statement for sure, and a rather large cliché, one that everyone can seemingly utter with ease and actual belief. Most of the time though, and for most people, ‘Art’ is not life, ‘Art’ is a passerby, ‘Art’ is a belonging, ‘Art’ is a feeling, something to appreciate and observe, and sometimes even partake in, but for some people, ‘Art’ truly is life, in its presence, just as in its absence.

There is a moment, in the non-linear progression of an artist, where Art becomes the soul itself to the very being which is living and moving through the days, months and years of linear life. Although it may seem dramatic, letting go of, and stepping away from your practise, can seem soul-wrenching. Sometimes though, once you have mastered the balance, your physical doesn’t make up the whole of your practice, and you can continue your education, your learning, your expansion, in other ways. If you aren’t successful in your artistic venture, then you might need to put it down for a while, in order to pick up a job and fund your life, and this can feel like setting a part of you aside. The Romantics might compare this feelings to letting go of the person they love the most. When it comes to hierarchies and priorities, like what I mentioned in one of my more recent blogs, a person who breathes art, by my definition of it, it takes over all the other ones. Although I could argue that it takes over the self, I cannot, because in my argument, the ‘self’ and the ‘arts’ are connected too tightly, they form ‘one’ too strongly, and it is not an effort to join them together, like most things in life, but in fact, a tremendous effort to unwind them, to disentangle them from one another; it is the worlds greatest love affair. 

In education, Art is unfairly judged. This is my opinion, although I really believe that it is actually a fact. No matter where you are, or at what level you are taking Art, there is always a criteria, an expectation, a linear progression, which you are supposed to achieve, surpass, or exceed at. I think that Art exists exactly to contradict this. It does not exist solely for this, but partly, and grandly, as a contradiction; against this, against rules, against expectations and against linear progression. I’m sure we can all come up with some more “against…” examples, but you get the idea.

Mainly, in the Art that contradicts my above argument, exists conceptual art, born for disagreement, discomfort and statement. Some people struggle to understand it, and mainly, enjoy it. I admit, I used to understand their detachement to it, and only recently have I realised just how important it is to our socio, cultural and political world, but mainly, to our philosophical one. I never thought I would defend a pile of bricks, or a messy bed, or a plain blue canvas, but actually, all the upheaval, all the discontentment, all the unease that is born with it, means that it is doing exactly what it was made to do.

My grandfather spoke of an installation at the Wells Cathedral Art Show one year, which was made up of hundreds of stuffed black tights, all tied together like a caterpillar winding up the stairs to a small chapel. To some disgruntled old man (not my grandfather), it seems this was an appalling work of art which he defined as disgusting and improper, and although my grandfather didn’t quite understand it himself, he didn’t find a particular aversion to it. This, it dawned on me, was possibly the entire reason behind the birth of that piece. That man’s reaction, and in contrast, my grandfathers, is why the artist felt it necessary to bring it into existence in the first place. Sometimes, the things that makes you the most uncomfortable, are really worth confronting, and what’s interesting is the variation in the reactions of your public, amplyfing, not something wrong or right with the artist, but in fact something of importance in that specific person in the audience.

Another Artist I met with recently, has a particular interest in curves and obliques, specifically on the human body, and usually its removal of limbs. In one particular instance, a rather curved and full woman’s body, which was considerably popular with the general publics, was offensive and obtrusive to one discontent woman in particular. The Artists reaction to this (in private, and later, to me) was, “well that has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with her”, and he is right. Although the role of the Artist is sometimes to create offence, or disgust, or some kind of emotional reaction, it is not always a reflection of their own feeling, but in fact a mirror for those of the world around them. Having said this though, and coexistent to my last point, I do believe that an Artists work is, in some way or another, conscious or subconscious, a varying portrayal of their vulnerabilities, laid out bare, or disguised, for the whole world to see (or at least for those artists who are lucky enough to have the whole world as their audience).

To circle back to my initial point, there is a difference between artists, which may be subtle to those who are not, but is blatantly and forcefully obvious to those who are. There are the artists who live, breathe, read, feel, eat, think and are, Art, and then, there are those who just, make Art. Making Art sometimes can just be, ‘making Art’. It might involve nothing more, and nothing less, than the simple study and understanding of a technique, a medium, and a subject matter. Once the understanding is there, it is all in the process of application, which is careful, and considered, and somehow resembles that of solving a mathematical equation. It is no less than what it is, but it is also no more. This is no bad thing, on the contrary, it is peaceful in a lot of ways, alleviated by the lack painfull nights and thought riddled days, which most Artists seem to suffer (and thrive) in. Their projects, are simply tasks, to succeed at one after the other, like ticking off a To-Do List. It is not without difficulty of course, because no maths equation is without difficulty, but really without emotional and physiological torment, without extra weight, or lightness, which pushes them down, or lifts them up, into the largeness of life itself. It is a physical process, whereby colours and tones and composition takes up most of the space, something which is of rare worry to the Artist who cannot rid themself of the drastically devastating beauties and atrocities of life.