“It is good to love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is well done.”
Vincent van Gogh
I’ve been heading towards this realization for a long time, but it was only this weekend it struck me that I can and will consider myself an artist. I’ve been hesitant to call myself that my whole creative life. The reasons why are hard for me to articulate because as I roll them over on the page they just are so silly; so foolish. For a long time I felt that a person had to be seen as an artist by other people for it to count; or a person had to be so outside the box that the only way to describe them was artistic or insane or both. I’m claiming it. None of those reasons matter to me any more. This may be one of the last vestiges of insecurity surrounding how I’m seen in the world I needed to shake off so that I can live my life as true to self as possible.
I enjoy creating beautiful things and creating them for the sake of being beautiful. There is so much ugliness in the world. Why not make a beautiful thing simply because it’s beautiful? Except in my time at design school I was told art that lacked meaning other than beauty was not art. It offered no usefulness to the plight or the explanation of the human condition. I was always bothered by that. People like the things we call art not only because they make us think about hard questions or stir something deep within us, but often because we find it to be beautiful and we are satisfied with it to simply be beautiful. Sometimes people like a thing because we’ve been conditioned that we’re supposed to like it and rarely every question why we do. For me creating is a means for escape as much as it is a means for expression. I don’t always want to put emotion on the page but to create with emotion and love. I think that is enough for me and with that I take on the title of “Artist” proudly and happily.
Life is incredibly short and there is only so much control if any we have in it. If I must spend my days working in the drudgery of these beige cubicle laden hellscapes then I will defiantly create whatever art I am capable of. It’s just the thing for an artist to do.