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I've been thinking lately about what constitutes being an artist and by association, what constitutes art itself. The definition of an artist is: 1. one skilled or versed in learned arts and 2. one who professes and practices an imaginative art (with the subsequent definition of art being: the conscious use of skill and creative imagination especially in the production of aesthetic objects). Okay, that covers quite a bit of ground there, so where does one draw the line? I know people who aren't particularly art snobs, yet consider quilting, weaving, and the textile arts in general to not be art at all, but merely crafts. If this were the case, then why would museums all over the world be clamoring to exhibit the stunningly beautiful quilts created through the years by the women of one of the poorest towns in the American South, Gee's Bend? And are popsicle sticks, glitter and an old shoe art outside of a Brownie Troop meeting? They are at the Institute of Contemporary Art. And what about the gallery exhibiting a rotting side of beef that hangs from a ceiling hook and relentlessly drips blood into an old metal pan on the floor beneath it? Is a slab of stinking meat art?
Is an artist only truly an artist if they have earned a degree in some area of the fine arts through an institution of higher learning? If that's the case, then Tramp Art can't be art at all, as not only did those artists who created it not have college degrees, but many of them couldn't even read or write. And does art only have merit or value when presented to us on a traditional support such as canvas, fine paper or board? What about art created on a piece torn from an old cardboard box, or a matchbook cover, or even a paper napkin? Is sculpture only sculpture when it's formed from marble, bronze or stone? What about papier mache, old wire coat hangers, or even chewed fat spat at a piece of plywood? Isn't that sculpture too?
I'm of the belief that an artist is an artist when they can't not create something, because it is that need to create that keeps them alive, that is second only to the need to breathe. If they aren't creating something, then they are thinking of what they will next create and how they will create it. You are an artist because you are born one. An artist is not made at a school. Being an artist comes from your heart, your head, your hands, your soul. And it matters not one whit if not one other person likes your work. It doesn't even matter if anyone else ever even sees your work. Most people agree that art is a very subjective thing, so why isn't this also granted to the artists who make the work?
The other day I filled out an online dating questionnaire to see who's my dead soulmate. As I answered all the questions as seriously as I was able, and naturally was expecting someone who at least dabbled in the arts, who I ended up with surprised me. I'm not sure if I should consider the results quirky and cool, or if I should be very concerned for my own mental well-being. My three potential mystery dates? Edgar Allen Poe, Vincent Van Gogh, and the enigmatic Leonardo Da Vinci. Now, don't get me wrong, I consider these all to be great men in the arts and sciences, and would love to have had the chance to meet any of them in their lifetimes, but let's be honest here if I may. All three of them were loonies, plain and simple.
Bachelor #1: an alcoholic, bi-polar, clinically depressed writer consumed with death in general and who had an obsessively morbid fascination for his dead beloved
Bachelor #2: a poverty-stricken, unsuccessful (in his lifetime) artist with schizophrenia, psychosis and OCD
Bachelor #3: another bi-polar with narcissistic tendencies who had great difficulty finishing anything he started and who also was gay with a penchant for very young, effeminate teenage boys
I thought perhaps if I went back and re-answered the questionnaire again more carefully, I might fare better with my choices of potential sweethearts, but no such luck. There were the same three gentlemen awaiting my decision. Apparently I am who I am and this is my destiny, so how hard could this be? An outrageously arrogant gay pedophile isn't my thing (and I obviously would not be his, which wouldn't be any fun for either of us), nor is a psychotic self-mutilator (and since I like to talk so much, I need a man with both ears in working order), so I chose Bachelor #1.
Perhaps had I not been quite so honest in my answers, or at least left out the part about my liking the idea of seeing visions (that would be so cool), or dating a man who saw visions (still cool) I might have ended up with a more mundane choice of men, but isn't honesty supposed to be the best policy? And for a dead guy, our date rocked, so who can complain?
My father was an executive chef. For those of you who don't know what that means, it means he was not only the head chef at the various restaurants where he was employed, but he also did all the ordering from the butchers, the fishmongers, the vegetable dealers, dairy farmers, and so forth. It means he wrote the menus and set the prices of each dish. And while my father was a brilliant chef who was very well-known, highly respected and much-loved, he was also an amazing artist, though not in any of the traditional mediums. He was an artist with food. His dishes were not only delicious, but beautiful to behold, a play of both texture and color. A balance of all that is perfect. And although his devoted clients didn't know this, to those in the industry he was also known for his beautiful ice sculptures, sculptures for which he won many awards. In my dreams I am the proprietor of a small tearoom where I serve little pastries, cakes and pies. I think it would be a wonderful way to honor my father who I miss very much and who I admired- and admire still- with all my heart and soul. I try to carry on the culinary traditions he set within our family, and as I nurture with food I feel him here with me still. I can think of nothing more fulfilling than a sumptuous meal shared with those I love. Even those who join me at table in spirit only, you will always have a place set for you.
