Am I really an Artist?

Ooh, my own blog! I do like to talk about myself; too much. This seems a good way to get it out of my system, as well as a place to keep a journal of sorts and pontificate. No warranties, guarantees, or promises of any sort. In many ways this is a personal and selfish endeavor, a place to try out ideas and thoughts to see if I like them. Still, I welcome you to follow your urge and read along, or move along to something more interesting.

I've done journal type writing before. Not quite five years ago I started a weekly letter to my immediate and step families. They tended to be a little too long, about four typewritten pages, and were intended to bring a sense of community to the family. A very disparate an interesting group, but at times we lack tolerance for each other's world views. Pretty typical family. Well, for the most part I judged the community building to be a dismal failure, though I am closer to one of my step-sisters than I would have been otherwise, and that made the effort worth while.

That weekly letter also served as a journal for a pivotal time in my life. I had been involved in competitive technical endeavors for most of my life. I was a model pre-med student, became disenchanted by the callousness and avarice of the profession and canceled my medical school interviews. So, I ran away and joined the Navy, where I was a Naval Flight Officer. After almost ten years I got out so I wouldn't be promoted into stultifying billets, and picking up another Bachelor of Science, this time in Computer Science I embarked on another successful career. I missed out on the dot com boom, as I didn't end up wealthy or destitute. During the year and a half I was writing those letters I took a few continuing education courses at BCC accidentally finding I was an actor. I chronicled that journey, in which I discovered I was an artist.

I had learned to marginalize the artistic parts of myself. It was a thrill to discover they were the larger part of my psyche, and were just waiting to emerge. Surprisingly, immersing myself in artistic pursuits has had a very beneficial impact on the more staid or mundane aspects of my life. Once again, I enjoy developing software with the same joy I felt when I discovered it in college, finding I had an affinity and enjoyment for writing code. With the renewed enjoyment I believe I do a better job. That is a pleasant surprise, because spending 20-30 hours a week working on acting, writing, assisting back stage, etc., takes up a lot of time.

I can't imagine that any human being does not have an artistic drive. I often have a feeling art is a form of communication that can't and shouldn't be quantified or analyzed too seriously. Art is absolutely important, more so than I ever imagined. It transcends the standard symbologies we use to communicate, like language or mathematics. Whether it is a piece of music, a painting, drawing, sculpture, dance, or play it can leave you with a lovely turmoil of experience and feelings. You can allude to the experience, but you can't really nail it down. "My skin tingled." "My heart swelled in my chest." "I cried." "It nauseated me." "I felt terrified." "I felt like I was in love." Appropriately enough, words can never precisely share the entire experience.

You may surround yourself with acquaintances and possessions and still feel lonely. Yet when your world opens up to that indefinable language of art, you are absolutely connected to the world, its' inhabitants and yourself. Loneliness is not something that plagues you.

Am I a good artist? It seems that question is the constant companion of every artist I know. I believe it is an absolutely critical question for all of us. It is at the same time symbolic and descriptive of the artistic journey. There is never a time or place for complacency. Even when we are resting we are still in motion whether it is exercising our imagination or simply listening to our own respiration. Asked in another way, it is also the most inane and potentially damaging question you could ask about your art. People may say your craft is awful, but what does it really matter? You know what you experienced when you were in the act of creation, and while that is not a valid commercial evaluation, it is the valid reference for you as an artist. I've been complimented for crap, and ripped apart for genuine acts of creation. I like compliments for true acts of creation the best, but acts of creation that are torn apart are more satisfying than compliments for drivel. If only you can give yourself that freedom.

My wish is that every person in the world could rediscover the artist which they are. It is a frightening and ultimately rewarding journey. You can surround yourself with the proper acquaintances, possessions, and wardrobes and still feel lonely and detached. The voice of art can connect you to the world and it's inhabitants in a way that feels like putting on a favorite pair of slippers, without thinking everybody else needs to be wearing the same slippers.