When I was in library graduate school, I found myself frequently having separation anxiety from my studio practice of painting. I was at class two nights a week and doing homework the other weeknights while friends painted, went to openings and advanced careers, and otherwise built lives as artists. A friend with whom I worked is also an artist, and she said to me--"Just do it a little every day. Even five minutes and you are still an artist." Somewhere I read a Lee Krasner quote in a interview that she painted every day, "much more than Jackson" and it stuck it my head. My standards about being prolific are very high, so I aspired to do just that.
When I got to graduate school for painting in 2006, I pushed this further. I was in my tiny (first year) closet studio or capacious (second year) studios churning out work at a volume (and I believe, quality) that was unprecedented for me. With a full time job, this was an unsustainable rate. I was hardly home. Sleep? Ha! I was stronger than sleep. At that time, I actually lost a sense of work/life/art balance. The gains were enormous in my ouevre, but I was frazzled and exhausted at core.
There are many myths that say that this spent state is the way to live as an artist, and the only way to be "serious." I have a lot of thoughts on that now. I started dancing as a way to add "fun" to my life, and balance. Although, as I've improved I have become "serious" about dance in addition to painting (obviously?). Recently, a dance friend and I were talking about how we had no idea that this dance wold become such a force in our lives, such an immersive experience. I have been a multi-disciplined artist since childhood--dancing, singing, acting, painting & drawing. I listened then when my college directing professor sternly admonished the class: You have to take yourself very seriously to be a Renaissance artist.
These types of warnings come back as a form of fear: I'm not serious enough. I'm neglecting my studio. I'm not dancing enough. I don't practice my zils enough (well, I don't do that enough.) I need to advance my art career. I need to advance my dance career. I need to be painting now instead of fill-in-the-blank.
My dance teachers tell me about daily classes and nightly performance back in New York's Golden Age of Middle Eastern dance, the '80s and '90s. (For a great description of that, see my mentor, Amar's article). So, the development for dancers in my generation may be a bit slower, because we can't work full-time as emerging artists. Sometimes I despair over this situation and my own limitations: time, money to fully immerse myself in the dance. And my painting.
That's when I have to remember that things don't happen in a sudden rush. Like, one day, I'll be able to do fabulous continuous shimmies like Zenaide. I'll be free and musical with the cane like Amar and create inventive steps. I'll play zils like Layla, (well, hopefully. :)) And my visual art will continue to grow--whether or not I can afford the ratcheting studio rent, because it needs to. (By the way, I would LOVE to perform at my own opening, someday.)
June has been all about dance and academic writing. I was beginning to beat myself up about not being in the studio enough, forgetting the ebb and flow of life that I do not believe makes me less "serious," but more human, more true, and if I may say so, a Renaissance artist. Then yesterday, a cousin (not a blood relative cousin but the excellent friend of the family kind) remarked on my Facebook page: "I haven't looked at your artwork in awhile-it is beautiful, fresh, alluring and positively alive. Bravo. I love it. xoxo" That meant the world to me. Little by little, creations are built. While things are always in flux, art can be stable, keeping me afloat.
Oh, and in one fell swoop I changed my eating plan and major changes have indeed kicked in. Now, I will start Phase 2 this weekend and begin an incremental plan. Chocolate and red wine (in moderation) are allowed. They are in order. I will celebrate.
THIS. Seriously. So much THIS*.
ReplyDeleteI'm not an artist - rather, I've had artistic tendencies, and I love art, but until 5 or 6 years ago, I never found that thing that was meant to be mine. I always felt like I was the dumb poser trying to make art.
Now, I've converted to the church of fiber, and I make yarn, and I make stuff with that yarn, and I make stuff that you can make yarn from. And like you with dance, its become such a part of my life that I could have never guessed. I go to yarn camp. I make time in my day to make stuff from yarn, or to make yarn.
However, I increasingly despair that I'll ever find enough time in the day to make it a thing. Or that I'll find enough time in the day to do any one thing well.
Heck, between work (which I kind of semi-like, seeing as I work for myself), spinning, knitting, being a parent, being a married person, and trying to be healthy (running, yoga, cooking decent food) I despair that I'll ever get through my reading list, much less be awesome at something.
However, I love the idea of the Renaissance artist. I (personally) will probably never be as good as even the lowliest apprentice, but to maintain that sense of curiosity, and of exploration, in the process of learning (or doing) many things is so lovely.
*THIS = my internet version of "HELLS YES!"
Thanks so much for writing, as I know how hectic a young parent's life is!
ReplyDeleteYour response inspired me very much, so much that I can't say it all in a comment, but will redirect it in a blog post.
Second, I do not believe in hierarchies between arts and crafts/design. All creative endeavor is fuel. Fuel for life, for friendships, for thought, for happiness, for your personal growth.
If that makes me less "serious," so be it!