A Gift
Talking about "Superwomen", as I was a few Blogs back, I am reading a book at the moment called Eye Rhymes, Sylvia Plath’s Art of the Visual. Having bought several collections of her poetry and a publication of her journals, I got one of those “You may also like” messages from Amazon suggesting it. It gives a fascinating insight into Plath's prolific creativity and by all accounts she was an extraordinarily gifted young artist, seriously devoted to the visual arts from a very early age, moving “between art-making and writing constantly, integrating their elements with ease and pleasure.”
Reading through the excerpts of her diaries it’s hard not to feel envious of her absolute conviction of her own talents as both an artist and a writer. She seems never to have been in any doubt of her success either as one or the other. They say one should have the courage of ones convictions (whoever They are) but I am often lacking in both when it comes to my art. I have just put the finishing touches to a new painting. It’s a bit of a breakaway from my usual style and format and a few days ago I was feeling relatively pleased with it and looking forward to hanging it in my new gallery. Then yesterday the doubt crept in and I began to add in elements of previous paintings as a sort of safety net, lacking the courage to do something different and take a risk. By the end of play today I’m trying to decide whether or not it is a great painting or a “crock of shite” as one of my daughter’s student friends from up North used to say. (Always made me laugh – I love people who speak their mind.) Such is the measure of my conviction, and I would do well to remind myself when I step into the studio of what Rothko & Gottlieb said in 1943 in a joint statement:
“To us art is an adventure into an unknown world, which can be explored only by those willing to take risks.”
This belief has served me well previously. When embarking on my final MA project my tutors were not convinced that I could bring together painting and poetry, reminding me I was a painter, not a writer and asking me what I wanted to be assessed on. Our theory modules had been centred around the very idea of crossing artistic borders, so I was slightly confused at their reluctance to encourage me in embracing this concept. I came home from my presentation totally deflated, sick to the stomach with disappointment, and went to sleep worrying about what the hell I was going to produce. The next morning brought a new determination to plough on with my idea and to fly in the face of their advice. In the end, the external assessor told me it was a remarkable achievement and my exhibition was received well by its audience. But there was no critical feedback at all from the college (which I could never quite believe) so to this day I have no idea what my tutors thought of my work or how they felt it could be improved upon or developed. I got my Masters with Merit and almost all of the series I produced has been sold, but to this day, because I did not get the approval of the academics, there is a seed of doubt about its value, and I continue to question my abilities, always feeling slightly uncomfortable when people credit me with talent or having a gift. Indeed, I am acquainted with artists whose work I can objectively observe as not being superior in any way to mine, yet whose conviction in their ability and the value of their work leaves me breathless with envy. They are doing well and I am convinced that part of their success is that belief in themselves and their art. It generates an excitement in their audience which makes them want to have a share in it.
Do I then need to cultivate some of Plath’s certitude, and adopt Lewis Hyde’s philosophy that “a work of art is a gift, not a commodity”? He believes that as an artist works, intuition or inspiration comes as a gift: an idea pops into his head, a colour falls into place on the canvas, and that this gift is then passed on in the outer life of the creation, to the work after it has left its maker’s hands. In his book, "The Gift – How the creative spirit transforms the world", he contends “That art that matters to us – which moves the heart, or revives the soul, or delights the senses, or offers courage for living, however we choose to describe the experience – that work is received by us as a gift is received. Even if we have paid a fee at the door of the museum or concert hall, when we are touched by a work of art something comes to us which has nothing to do with the price.”
Maybe Plath was aware of this too. In one of her Journals, she questions how much of her brain is wilfully her own? How much is not a rubber stamp of what she has read, and heard and lived. Did she see these experiences as a gift which through her own practice and creativity evolved into a new entity that she could pass on as a gift to others?
As I vacillate about the value of my own creativity, I am reminded of that other great writer Goethe who said, "Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it." And so, as I sign off, I am taking a deep breath and stepping boldly up to my next canvas, trusting that Goethe is right.
And it is with boldness and conviction that I shall hang yesterday’s finished painting.
Reading through the excerpts of her diaries it’s hard not to feel envious of her absolute conviction of her own talents as both an artist and a writer. She seems never to have been in any doubt of her success either as one or the other. They say one should have the courage of ones convictions (whoever They are) but I am often lacking in both when it comes to my art. I have just put the finishing touches to a new painting. It’s a bit of a breakaway from my usual style and format and a few days ago I was feeling relatively pleased with it and looking forward to hanging it in my new gallery. Then yesterday the doubt crept in and I began to add in elements of previous paintings as a sort of safety net, lacking the courage to do something different and take a risk. By the end of play today I’m trying to decide whether or not it is a great painting or a “crock of shite” as one of my daughter’s student friends from up North used to say. (Always made me laugh – I love people who speak their mind.) Such is the measure of my conviction, and I would do well to remind myself when I step into the studio of what Rothko & Gottlieb said in 1943 in a joint statement:
“To us art is an adventure into an unknown world, which can be explored only by those willing to take risks.”
This belief has served me well previously. When embarking on my final MA project my tutors were not convinced that I could bring together painting and poetry, reminding me I was a painter, not a writer and asking me what I wanted to be assessed on. Our theory modules had been centred around the very idea of crossing artistic borders, so I was slightly confused at their reluctance to encourage me in embracing this concept. I came home from my presentation totally deflated, sick to the stomach with disappointment, and went to sleep worrying about what the hell I was going to produce. The next morning brought a new determination to plough on with my idea and to fly in the face of their advice. In the end, the external assessor told me it was a remarkable achievement and my exhibition was received well by its audience. But there was no critical feedback at all from the college (which I could never quite believe) so to this day I have no idea what my tutors thought of my work or how they felt it could be improved upon or developed. I got my Masters with Merit and almost all of the series I produced has been sold, but to this day, because I did not get the approval of the academics, there is a seed of doubt about its value, and I continue to question my abilities, always feeling slightly uncomfortable when people credit me with talent or having a gift. Indeed, I am acquainted with artists whose work I can objectively observe as not being superior in any way to mine, yet whose conviction in their ability and the value of their work leaves me breathless with envy. They are doing well and I am convinced that part of their success is that belief in themselves and their art. It generates an excitement in their audience which makes them want to have a share in it.
Do I then need to cultivate some of Plath’s certitude, and adopt Lewis Hyde’s philosophy that “a work of art is a gift, not a commodity”? He believes that as an artist works, intuition or inspiration comes as a gift: an idea pops into his head, a colour falls into place on the canvas, and that this gift is then passed on in the outer life of the creation, to the work after it has left its maker’s hands. In his book, "The Gift – How the creative spirit transforms the world", he contends “That art that matters to us – which moves the heart, or revives the soul, or delights the senses, or offers courage for living, however we choose to describe the experience – that work is received by us as a gift is received. Even if we have paid a fee at the door of the museum or concert hall, when we are touched by a work of art something comes to us which has nothing to do with the price.”
Maybe Plath was aware of this too. In one of her Journals, she questions how much of her brain is wilfully her own? How much is not a rubber stamp of what she has read, and heard and lived. Did she see these experiences as a gift which through her own practice and creativity evolved into a new entity that she could pass on as a gift to others?
As I vacillate about the value of my own creativity, I am reminded of that other great writer Goethe who said, "Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it." And so, as I sign off, I am taking a deep breath and stepping boldly up to my next canvas, trusting that Goethe is right.
And it is with boldness and conviction that I shall hang yesterday’s finished painting.
posted by Rosy James at
18:25
1 Comments:
Why on earth do you need aclaim or comment from the "Academics" as you put it? Surely, no-one is an expert on art, the very nature of the medium makes it impossible. Their opinion, and that's all it is, is no more valid than Mrs Miggins from the pie shop, or mine. You will never, ever please everyone, some will feel you have no talent, some will think you a genius, neither of them, in their eyes are wrong, it's opinion. You do what you do because you can do it and no-one else does it like you. Be confident in your originality, in your expression. It is your expression and anyone, be they "Academic" or someone else with an opinion can see your passion. You have a gift Mrs. J. Don't fight it.
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