12 December 2020
Doubt and discipline
This was one of three from the other night. They were a little different, brighter and lighter in every way but I liked this one best. It was an unusual sea, super flat, very light, and silver blue. A difficult kind of sea to paint, so smooth it made me think of a glass slipper. But I appreciate the vast varieties of weather conditions that oblige me to adapt by finding solutions for such different colours and forms each day.
Last night a fellow painter friend of mine complained to me that she felt that although she has been at working as an artist for some 40 years now, she still feels that she doesn’t know what she is doing. Curious, because in my mind, she has always been a tireless worker, always at it, day and night, and yet like for so many artists, a rich and successful career has eluded her. Nonetheless, I was surprised to hear all this. I had always also marvelled at her discipline because next to her, I’m a bit of a slouch and a sloth.
But I laughed gently, because I had heard this from her many, many times before over the years. I replied that most artists, writers, musicians, etc, etc, who cannot make this confession, may have more gumption than integrity. I went on to add that having a great career is not the same thing as having possession a great craft or vision.
But maybe I was being a little generous. What I had meant to say was that an artist (unless they are Picasso), who never question themselves, and who appear to know nothing of the gnawing doubt deep inside one’s creative skin, must surely make insipid Art. So thus I pontificated to allay her fears. I'm harsh, but there must be truth in it because nearly every great artist, writer, musician, in history have themselves confessed to all that.
I added that I think just to face all this emotional insecurity is the first step to seeing it more clearly. Then, it's just a matter falling in love with one's work again because actually, all this confusion is really just a lapse of love. The way out of it is to jump back into the work, the craft; the nuts and bolts of art, not the airy fairy feelings around it.
This doubt can be the key to a happy daily routine in most cases, irregardless of the work produced. I also reminded her of Sisiphus too.
Somehow, I think, even after the usual route of going to Art schools, many of us still manage to hide our deepest insecurities as we venture out into the world of studios and galleries (and no need to dwell upon the cocktail parties, receptions, and exhibition openings that await the luckier ones amongst us). What little I have come to understand as an ‘unsuccessful’ painter (and college drop out) is that Art doesn’t generally come out of the class rooms, but out of the recess periods, like as kids and when we were always at play. And besides, (full disclaimer: I’m not really a believer in Art Schools anyway) but that said, I don’t discount the fact that Art schools are still great for networking and getting laid a lot.
But in truth, I used to feel that by slogging it out on my own it would make me a better painter and that eventually I would get somewhere, but in the end, it just made me lonelier. Then I gradually accepted that I was kind of a loner anyway despite being someone who is generally pretty sociable and likes people. And of course, I had chosen to stay in France to study with Leo Marchutz who became my teacher in the end.
But back to my friend; what I didn’t tell her was that I used to actually feel that there was some wisdom in this idea that the greater the doubt, the greater the artist. But now I'm less sure of it because sometimes creative people are just so overwhelmed with lack of confidence that they are terminally irresolute. They may never seem to find a way out of their own foxholes. But anyway, I shouldn't be making such broad pronouncements either way. Life is a hard slog for us all no matter what our professions, either chosen or imposed upon us. Maybe one just has to work hard, but also look equally hard at great Art. Like Henry James once said:
"We work in the dark, we do what we can, we give what we have, our doubt is our passion, and passion is our task -- the rest is the madness of art."
I also told her that I have read of a few great painters who’ve claimed that only in their twilight years did they finally began to understand what Painting was all about; when their teeth and their hair were falling out, as both Delacroix and Goya had attested.
All fine authentic artists have certainly said similar things I’m sure. But to contradict myself ever so slightly, I might note that one could say that humility isn’t always the litmus test of an artist’s quality. If one looks at Picasso, whose ego was as great as his very best things, but yet, overall, his greatness was still but a fraction of his giant ego. With more humility he might have continues making really innovative works, as great as Guernica, for example.
Titian, on the other hand, had both hubris and genius. It is said that he dropped a paintbrush while at work on one of his portraits of Pope Paul III in Venice, he stopped and he waited impatiently for the Pope to get off his chair to pick it up for him before resuming his work.
Doubt can be a healthy thing for everyone no matter what their vocations. The thing for me is that while I am working here at the beach, doubt is rarely present. This is always the proof that the routine is everything. For me, anyway, the routine has created the craft, and the craft has created confidence.
No comments:
Post a Comment