Have you ever called yourself the “A” word?
aaaaaaaArtist. Yeesh. Feels sharp on the palate. Like it’s going to cut my mouth open.
The word Artist is LOADED … with symbols, expectations, romanticism, allowances.
“Oh forgive him, he’s an Artist.”
I hear Artist. I think: Nabakov (lurid. twisted. synthesthetic. he could SMELL colors, for fuck’s sake.)
I think: Picasso (cubism. uh-huh. say no more.) I think: Isadora Duncan (she metamorphosized the world of modern dance, then died in a tragic scarf accident.) I think: Keats, Yeats, Wilde, Beckett (my quartet of Celtic bards.) I think: Maya frickin’ Angelou. I think: Alexander McQueen.
I don’t think: Me.
At least, not until recently.
That’s a lie. Not until never.
One of Danielle LaPorte’s mentors once asked her, “are you an Entrepreneur, or what?”
(her answer is illuminating. and you should grab The Fire Starter Sessions, to read it.)
Lately, my inner mentors (that’s what I call the voices in my head, by the way) have been asking me, “are you an Artist, or what?”
And I get squeamish and feeble and weepy and look down at my toes.
‘Cause … I wanna be. Can I be? Please?
I don’t feel like an Artist … or at least, what I think an Artist should feel like. I feel competent. OK — I feel brilliant. I definitely feel reliable. I know I’m helpful. I’m quick-witted and easy on the eyes and can decorate a birthday cake like nobody’s business. I can wordsmith your webcopy. I can visioneer your aesthetic identity. I can even sing, kinda pretty. I’ve been told I’m a really good kisser. Sometimes I put peculiar colors in my hair, and feathers and such. But none of this adds up to true-blue, full-blown Artistry. Right?
Some furrow of my brain has decided that the title of Artist is something I have to earn — no, further, it has to be bestowed upon me, like being knighted. I can’t claim it for myself. That would be too … blustery.
My friend Dyana had a dream for me (not about me — for me.) In it, she found a mahogany cabinet full of tiny drawers, each containing a perfectly formed, individually-wrapped work of art. They weren’t dusty, or forgotten, or locked up. Just … stored away. With great intention. As if they were meant to be unwrapped — later.
I wonder which one I should unwrap first. And if it’ll make me an Artist, at last.
:: portrait of me as a deer by the extraordinary Aurora Armijo ::
Have you seen your website? Have you read your blog? You had me convinced. PS – Antlers on girls = very good.
You are totally an artist.
A couple of years ago, I was at a party and made friends with this guy who turned out to be a backup dancer on Broadway. He was a magical Taurus indigo child who radiated emphatic expression. I was so in awestruck friendcrush of him. HE was the artist, I was the… what, i don’t know! Person deeply in love with art and artists. He turned me on to The Artist’s Way, and it was really good for me especially because there is a whole chapter on going through our feelings about What It Means to Be An Artist. There’s so much out there in this day of the internet but if you are a book lover it might be a good look.
Yes, I agree :)
Verbal Artist = Artist.
The Artist is an ideal that creatives pursue. Can we even dare to label ourselves with the same word that defines the pinnacle successes of the Masters? We are all creators, and we are all equally entitled to the same birthright. I also love The Artist’s Way. I definitely recommend it. Julia Cameron dispels the conventional notions of what is means to be an Artist. I just recently found you through Twitter, and I am totally wired electric by your words. Have an awesome night.
You had me at Unicorn….
yes artist IS a loaded word and that’s why it’s so hard to claim it. for years, it was hard to consider myself an artist even though i painted! an artist can mean anything that is creative. and since we’re all creative.. we’re all artists. :) win/win.
“it has to be bestowed upon me, like being knighted. I can’t claim it for myself.”
Yes yes yes, I feel this way too! I went through similar debates in my head with myself. Could I ever call myself a photographer? Annie Leibovitz is a photographer. Bruce Weber is a photographer. I feel inferior to them, and it would be a great injustice if I ever called myself a photographer.
I used to think these titles are for others to use to refer to us, not for us to use on ourselves. But then again, if you do not believe that you are an artist, how could anyone else believe that you are? We need to stand and say, with conviction, who we are, despite how silly or untrue we think it might be.
I am actually surprised, of all people, that you would think this way. But, I realize it just makes you more of a real person, finding growth and a place. I really appreciate that you wrote about this. Thank you <3
I’m knee-deep in this question with my Artistic DNA clients right now ~ and yes, I believe you can claim the name of Artist for yourself based on who you ARE, not just what you do. An identity like Artist is bound up in personality, values, self-expression, devotion to a creative domain. You’re born with it. Then you get to choose how and when your Artist goes into action.
And there’s an Alexandra-way of being an Artist that looks like no one else’s way. Anyone can see it all over you.
But the bigger question is, what would change for you if you claimed that identity?
LAURA SIMMS :: Antlers belong on every girl. P.S. I suspect you + Ms. Armijo would hit it off, famously.
MARIAN :: Awestruck FriendCrushes are the BEST! Gotta gotta gotta read The Artist’s Way. It’s on my Amazon WishList. Now.
RHINAJU :: Ooh, “wired electric.” I’m flattered.
JODY :: Unicorns are pretty captivating, no?
JANET :: Why is it such a tricky title to claim? Ponderous.
JUSTINE :: Mmm, inferiority complex! That’s really the crux of this whole question.
ALISON GRESLIK :: Ah! THAT is the whole point of this exercise. Who would I be . . . what would I change . . . if I was an Artist? A juicy prompt. Worthy of an entirely separate post, methinks.
Yes, exactly.
Thank you.
It looks as though if anyone has anything to say about it, you are an artist. So you better claim it anyway! I know at the end of the day, it’s just a label, but it’s such a dreamy, powerful label. I also like what rhinaju said above: “The Artist is an ideal that creatives pursue.” Maybe that’s why we have such a problem owning up to it, because inherently it’s meant to be this ideal of pursuit. And it’s not the medium that matters, it’s the ideal. Hmmm…
Oh, the ever allusive ‘Artist’ title. So many of us long for it, but fear to use it for ourselves. I am in the same boat (it must be a large cruise ship, as there are many passengers here) of trying to figure out if I can claim that title and how that might change how I feel/work. You are so amazeballs at all this wordsmithery & I know that you are an artist. Your posts always inspire laughter, deep thought, & more crawling out of the traditional box, which are great services to the universe. You’ve got IT, for sure.
This is something I wrestle with. I really WANT to be an Artists, but I just dont think I have the skills, the real talent.
My heart is an Artist and I feel like a Poser…..
I still feel weird and shy about calling myself an artist. There’s something quite magical that I’ve assigned to it’s meaning, and I am not sure I’m awesome enough to be magical quite yet.
I think artist definitely is a great description for you.
I have literally been thinking about this ALL DAY and developing my ideas.
I read this post the first time when it had but three comments, and I keep coming back to it. I even made paper notes and broke down the arguments being implied in the post and subsequent comments. Arrows and question marks were flying everywhere, let me tell you!
I think we need to make a distinction between ART and FINE ART. The famous artists that you’ve described are more fine artists in the sense that they’re creating art for the aesthetic value of the work as opposed to something that is incidentally aesthetically pleasing and is therefore art, but not necessarily created by an Artist with creative intentions as such.
There can be an “art to” something without it being an art.
As well, something can be a “craft” without the end result being an art.
My blog post aren’t art pieces, but the collective of my thoughts and efforts is a masterpiece onto itself and the stories being crafted and shared are very much works of art.
As you can see, this definition means a lot more things are art than museum curators and Pulitzer judging crew would like to admit.
I think the hesitation to call oneself an artist, besides the attitude of self-preservative exclusivity created by the industry of fine art, comes from certain ideas about quality of work, and breadth of audience:
An “artist” has X amount of skill and X amount of experience and X number of eyes on them, loving what they do. The problem with this is that if an artist has to have at least 1,000,000X, are they magically stripped of their claim to peerage at 999,999x? At X – 3 months of experience, are you not skilled enough to call yourself an artist? Structurally, this kind of justification re: what it means to be an artist is wrought with flawed premises and general non sequitur.
The hoops have been placed at arbitrary locations through superfluous criteria. Unlike British peerage, there’s no qualification to titular artistry other than ones own inner aesthetic and desire to create.
What I saw when I read the blog post was something along the lines of “Artists are the only one who make art.” But I think what’s much more empowering and accurate is to say “The ones who make art are called artists.” The difference in wording is subtle but key.
Artistry is a subjective state of being, much like gender and the overwhelming majority of social identities. Unlike cliques though, there’s no us vs. them i.e. making art is a we kind of thing. As a part of speech, it is a noun, describing one who makes art, not a level of proficiency to be achieved that excludes everybody but the notorious.
WHEW! That’s what I spent all day working on.
Um…wow. I didn’t realze how DANG LONG that comment was! My bad Alex :(
A.Y. :: you get platinum stars for using the term “non sequitur.” And I love your line of reasoning. Sally forth.
Being an artist isn’t about making things to put in galleries, its about being. Your life is your art. I spent 4 years and almost $100,000 to go to art school- and I just started to figure this whole artist thing out.
What do you have to lose from calling what you do art? What do you lose if you call yourself an artist?
Artist.
It’s a heavy word, isn’t it?
One that was totally full of baggage for me.
Twist-ey. Complicated. Messy.
The football players used to toss me down the stairs at school for being an artist. (I’m sure the black eyeliner + smeared red lipstick had nothing to do with it.)
I used to think being an artist was something you did. And it can be. Of course. But it’s so much more.
Now I see it as a soul thing. It’s how you show up. How people feel when they’re around you. It’s how you roll.
Part of that might be making brilliant things. Or not.
But the vibe is hard to miss. You know it when you see it. It hits you in the gut. In the best possible way.
And, for what it’s worth, I got socked in the gut the second I found this place.
I made you a present:
http://thepeacefulpeacock.com/2011/05/are-you-an-artist-por-favor-habla-despacio/
You = Artist. Go.
Oh how I feel the struggle.
http://www.messycanvas.com/2006/08/i-am-an-artist/
I use to think ‘artist” meant that you conceptualized your work. So I always considered myself a “crafts person” because I tend to make practical objects that say “I am a bowl” not “I am a bowl hiding from the world because my soul is black as ash”.
Last month I painted the walls in my studio 5 times, and still it just didn’t fully evolve into my vision of what I “needed’ it to be – I lay there in bed thinking about the best way to achieve what I dreamed those walls would be and I realized being an artist is having that “vision” of what you need to make and riding that pony all the way to town. All the way to crazy town – YES!
Oh and if you havent already, you must read “Just Kids” by patti smith
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