Other Fish

Tomorrow I won't be posting on this weblog. Sorry, Bush, I have other fish to fry. I might well miss Sunday, too. If I do, then I'll hope to be back in touch on Monday.

I would like to tell you a little bit about the reason for my neglect, because it has to do with some broadly cultural issues that I know will interest you. Ellie and I have worked extensively over the years, in a number of different ways, with studio artists, and we are now offering the first in what we hope will be a series of day-long workshops called "Building a Practice." It is intended for those many, many artists who are serious about their studio work but have not, for one reason or another, managed to attract the conventional trappings of "success": for artists, that usually means gallery exhibitions, sales, inclusion in important collections and museum shows, reviews in the press, and so on. The truth of the matter is that these rewards are available in today's art world to only a privileged few, and that most artists will need to find alternative ways to find the fulfillment they are seeking in their lives and work, and to keep on track in their studio despite all art world discouragements.

It's frankly a very personal thing for me, Bush. I've never thought of myself as anything but a writer, and have achieved what many would regard as enviable success: I've published several books, some of which have been well reviewed in national newspapers. I've published literally scores of articles, art reviews, and book reviews in national and international magazines. And yet… and yet I still couldn't dream of making a living as a writer. I still feel sick to my stomach every time I go into a book shop and see the mountains of books being published every day; and when I check out the bestseller lists and see only the old, safe, familiar names, along with those of a few celebrities who get there only thanks to their celebrity. It's not about writing any more, Bush. It's not about quality of thought. It's all about the potential for commercial success. Well, nearly all.

Which is fine for business. That's how it should be. But not fine for the arts, or for the artist. To get to the top is part fluke, part luck, and sometimes part genuine talent and relevance to the issues (including the art issues) of the day. But for every one who scales the heights, there are twenty, thirty, fifty, who are no less gifted as artists--some, indeed, far more--who have to find that inner core of motivation and conviction in themselves to keep them going in the studio. Artists, in a word, very much like myself, even though in a different medium. It's a constant, daily battle, and a tough one. That's why I feel I have something to talk to them about, some common ground. That's what Ellie has been doing, these past ten years and more. Responding, coaching, encouraging, helping to keep fully motivated. We've had to develop some survival tools, and that's what our workshop is about.

I've often said that a part of the problem is the art schools. For fifty years and more, they have been churning out graduates with BFAs and MFAs, and with expectations to become "professional" artists. Trouble is, there's no such thing. Not the way I look at it. A "professional," in my lexicon, is someone who earns a living doing something--law, medicine, education… The artist as I see it--and I wrote an essay once on this very subject--is by nature and temperament an amateur. Bad word, these days, it seems. But I happen to love it. There was a time when amateur was the highest calling: it was something you did out of pure passion. There was a time when even the greatest scientists were amateurs. The great explorers and discoverers who opened up new horizons were not "professionals." They just did what they did because they were called to do it, it was in their hearts and their guts and their blood, despite sometimes grievous, sometimes even fatal consequences.

I like to think of "practice" as one answer that works. It’s not the only one, for sure, but it has worked for me--at least most of the time. I shifted the term over from the meditation practice that I started some ten years ago, and which has been a daily commitment for about eight of them. In part, it's a simple discipline--the discipline of just showing up each morning at the same time, with the intention of getting it done, no matter whether I feel like it or not. It's the quality of sheer persistence. It's also a good way to develop the ability to focus the attention and stay mindful, to be clear about what it is I'm doing. And a good way to be clear about what I want. These are all things I can practice on a daily basis, and which assure a kind of satisfaction in themselves every time I "put them into" practice. When I miss, I know that there's something missing in my life, something important, and something that contributes to my sense of well-being. To my happiness, if you will.

So this is what I'll be doing all day Saturday, Bush. Trying, as best I can, to pass some of this along, in the hope that it will be helpful to some other person like myself, caught up in the struggle to remain true to a particular vision of my life, in an age which often does not seem to welcome or respect it. You can see that by Sunday I might have earned a rest. Wish me luck, okay?