10.02.05

I went to a birthday party last evening and, except for some good friends, most of the guests seemed pretentious and self-consciously artsy. I understand that a lot of it has to do with age, but I can see these same people, 15 years from now, driving minivans and being tools. All while happily justifying to themselves their conventions and their compromises.

Not that they weren't nice--no, not at all! Generous, open, friendly...they were all that and more.

Yet I had a weird, cat with her hackles up feeling that these weren't really my people. That these were the artsy people who'd settle for the safe thing, or the sure thing--a guaranteed audience. It seemed to me to be both bloodless and terribly civilized; both decent enough intentions, but not where my tastes lie.

There was a lot of talk of form and pattern, it was as if every move had to be Planned before embarking on Creation. That certain Forms Had to Be Followed. Once again, a lot of that comes from age. It is difficult to make that leap into artistic confidence--and why so many don't. Thus the over-reliance on critical reviews, awards, grants, honours...because the majority of those working in the arts don't trust themselves. Give me a good welder, a craftswoman or man who does what she or he does and doesn't get too wrapped in the intellectual side of things. I think that over-explaining or over-intellectualizing is a form of avoidance; if I'm planning a work, I may never actually have to do the work, and therefore do not risk being ridiculed for my work.

It's subjective (ain't all art?); what gets me going doesn't get someone else going. And that's as it should be. I can appreciate the beauty and the measured cadence of the expected, it's like having to know the rules before you break 'em. However, for me it becomes too intellectual and loses its being, its soul. I need more rawness in the art that works for me.

Back one. ||||| Forward one.