Part III - Do I have to stick my tongue to a flagpole, people!

a little cork love from olive

Now, it is quite clear to me, through the liberal use of my Magic 8 Ball and a reader's comment (thank you Janell) that we are still not feeling it.

(and it is a proven fact that if one person says something, ten other people are thinking it, so I will trudge on here, plus I like to think ten people are reading this)

This word artist feels like something someone over there is doing - maybe someone with an art degree

(although I know many women with art degrees and some who teach art and call themselves teachers or art teachers, but still choke a little bit on the word artist)

maybe someone with a canvas and some oil paints

(although I know women who paint everyday and because they don't sell what they paint they choke a little bit - or a lot - on the word)

maybe someone with talent.

Gulp, yup, I think it's the "t" word that gets us.

(that little voice that says who do you think you are and not a sweet "who do you think you are?" like we are stumbling around with amnesia and a kindly little old lady asks us our name and hands us a cookie, but more like "who do you think you are?" as if the salesgirl at Bloomingdale's, maybe the one with the super elastic looking eyelashes - I just want to grab them and stretch them out and see where they end up - and the bottle of cologne perched in her hand mid-spiff - has spied us removing our coat with the saggy lining - wth has happened to my coat lining?? - and trying on that $800 leather jacket)

It's the talent thing.

Not, that we see ourselves as talentless, of course, we are damn good at what we do, we are makers after all - we are all in agreement on that one.

We make scarves and necklaces. We make e-books and soap. We make conversations and cookies. We make a business (maybe, maybe not). We make a life with our makings (always). Yes, we are makers.

In what way is a maker not an artist? Name one.

(I double dog dare you on this one)

I think we are I have been a little chicken to use this word. I think it is this little chicken part of me that keeps me from getting accepted into certain shows and certain categories within certain shows. I have been practicing though. I say, "I am an artist" and feel where the tension (block) is in my body and work on releasing that.

(a great release exercise, works for me with pain, too - based on accupressure points and psychology is the tapping solution - very easy to do, google it if you are interested, Cheryl Richardson has a video on youtube - I wouldn't do it in line at the post office, but it is strangely effective)

I say it in the grocery store.

"Paper or plastic?"
"I am an artist."

I say it in the restaurant.

"Lemon in your tea?"
"I am an artist."

I say it to hubs every night.

"Anything good happen today?
"I am an artist."

It's starting to work (I am an artist).

Anyhoo, if this is a conversation that interests you, Seth Godin has an excellent new book, The Icharus Deception, how high will you fly, that may get you thinking about "why we have decided we are not artists and whether it is worth considering why we made this decision and what it might take to unmake it."

No answers from Olive on this one, just more questions - I am feeling the need to relate the word artist to anyone living an authentic life and touching other people with their authenticity - someone focused on the journey and not the finish line - someone like us.

(I am an artist)

Happy Valentine's Day XO

art is the making that has something to say

OK, let's think about this.

Craftsperson, maker, artisan - these are all within our comfort zone, so what is it about the word artist that makes our palms itch.

(and yes, I realize I am using the word "we" while having no idea how you, dear reader, feel about this, but I have a suspicion you might feel like I do .. plus I shook my magic 8 ball and it read "it is certain", so I feel compelled to continue)

I have a brother who can draw anything --->

(he also teaches music and can play anything, which makes him totally talented and yes, a wee bit annoying, dammit)

He was born like this - we have no idea how and if it wasn't for his addiction to Pixar movies and blue cheese we might think the hospital made one of those switched at birth mistakes that Lifetime movies and million dollar lawsuits are made of.

When you have an artist in the family - everyone else, kind of just by default, becomes 'not an artist'. It goes without saying that when someone can draw anything and someone else is gluing feathers to a plastic sandwich bag and calling it a pocketbook (yes, this is the part where I come in) it's probably not going to be called art.

But when we define art as "the making that has something to say, something that connects", things shift (yes, maybe even for a plastic bag decorated with feathers).  

The things, which do not even have to be things and often aren't, created with heart and soul and originality and boldness; the things birthed from our desire to express, our desire to be vulnerable and connect - are art. And if artists are people who make art, then who are we again?

If we explore artist archetypes and their shadows : genius (madness), success (starving artist),
talent (ecentricity) we can see that this new paradigm we are living in requires some archetypal tweaks.

"art is not a gene or a specific talent. art is an attitude, culturally driven and available to anyone who chooses to adopt it. art isn't something sold in a gallery or performed on a stage. art is the unique work of a human being, work that touches another. most painters, it turns out, aren't artists at all - they are safety-seeking copycats." - seth godin

Working without a net? We're an artist. Working from our heart? We're an artist. Creating something that touches others (and that something can be a conversation)? We're an artist. Art is real and art is vulnerable and personal and committed. And the people doing real things (the actual things don't matter) and allowing themselves to be vulnerable and committed are artists. So who are we again?

And if we are still thinking - all well and good but, I'm still not comfortable with this word, this word just isn't me - maybe it would be worth taking some time to figure out how we have arrived at this decision, maybe it is worth looking at what we are really afraid of.

part III what am I really afraid of

if you knew what you were doing you wouldn't be an artist

eeebee print

A friend of mine was recently interviewed by a jewelry making magazine and one of the questions she was asked referred to her as an artist.

This word artist made her uncomfortable and she changed it to craftsperson.

I have done stuff like this myself.

(I love the word craftsperson, too, and grew into that one with calluses and hand tools and time - I earned that one, but artist ... )

The word artist always resonates inside me as ARTIST!!! Capital letters and exclamation points and expectations

and the probability that if I dared to claim this word for myself it was only a matter of time before someone would come along and yank open the curtain and there I would be on a step stool and my tippy toes all wobbly and sweaty and stammering about how I really was an artist .... really.

This is some scary shit.

"art is difficult, risky and frightening -

it's also the only option if we choose to care."

-seth godin

The first time I visited a museum I was in the 4th grade. I was uber excited for this class trip and wore a green plaid vinyl raincoat with a green corduroy collar and carried a Josie and the Pussycats lunchbox.

(that unbeknownst - is that a word, I think so, I just love those 11 letters-to me housed a cheese on white bread sandwich, although I had begged my mother for anything except a cheese on white bread sandwich and she had assured me that it was most decidedly not a cheese on white bread sandwich)

I wandered past the African art and the Asian art and the art of Ancient Egypt and the paintings and sculptures of the European masters.

The paintings were hanging behind ropes and men with uniforms and stern faces stood watch. They were beautiful and amazing and flawless and they were untouchable.

After lunch we clamored into another wing. The boys were laughing and pushing and pointing and pronouncing this stuff was definitely "not art - we could make this stuff", they laughed.

I was mesmerized - this stuff I could understand, this stuff I could touch, was art? I asked the teacher, "what do you call this art?" and he said, "this is called modern art - this is art that has something to say".

Modern art - art that had something to say - I liked the sound of that and I definitely wasn't laughing.

If modern art was something that everybody could make then maybe even a little girl with a crooked hair cut and a Josie and the Pussycats lunchbox with a cheese on white bread sandwich still lying uneaten inside could make it, too.

Part II - what are we saying?