The Story of my Art
Recently I have been asked to tell the story of my art. That is not a simple question. That is a hard question. I think a lot of artists have a path they travel as a creative person. This path is based on or influenced by things that have happened in their lives. So many times, it seems artists choose something traumatic to influence their work. It usually does make for good stories to express their creativity with, so I guess this might be a good thing. In addition, they could use their creativity to help them work through the experience and possibly turn it into something good. To me, this all boarders to closely with psychology. I’m not a psychologist but I would think dwelling on a traumatic event would prolong the suffering. Personally, I tend to lean toward the mind set of – yea it happened, I survived, I learned a lesson, now let’s get on with your lives. I have never wanted the help of a psychologist but then again maybe this is my problem. I’ll probably never know. So, what should an artist do that doesn’t have a traumatic event to work from. That’s a good question too. Maybe just paint picture of fruit bowls, landscapes and other traditional arty things? I don’t know.
I need to reel this in. Let’s get back to the original question. What is the story of my art? Well, I thought long and hard about this question and kept returning to the same conclusion – I don’t have one. At least I don’t think I do. Or do I? My art doesn’t evolve around me, my life or any past catastrophe in my life. What it does revolve around is stories. My art is inspired by imagined stores, stories of other people, stories of how I perceive the world. In hindsight, I think my art has always been about things other than me. This is a bit different from the norm, so I started wondering why.
Here’s what I have come up with: I’m a classic introvert – I like being alone and thinking to myself. Crowds make me nervous but deep down I want to be out there in the crowd but it’s nerve racking at the same time. What makes it so nerve racking – my own head. My mind doesn’t want to stop looking around, my mind wanders, it races, and it certainly is not calm. It’s not a holy crap someone is going to kill me nervous thing but more of a I want to see and experience everything kind of feeling. I don’t want to miss a thing. This makes it hard to sit and make small talk with people. In fact, I am so out of practice at this it’s quite hard to even fake it. Kind of weird huh?
So, I think my art revolves around stories from my inner self that I share with others in an attempt to let them into my world. This way they can get to know me, to see me – without all the small talk. My art becomes the small talk. Then when conversation does start, it isn’t so weird. Hopefully we’ll have a mutual thing to talk about. Yea- maybe I do need a psychologist too?
Anyways, the next time you see me sitting in a gallery or art fair, all alone, don’t feel bad for me. I have a plan. People may walk by and not notice but every once in a while, a special person will stop and look. Not at me but at my art. “Hello” is said without saying a word. “Have we met before?”
So maybe this is the story of my art.
What do you think?