They say that art is the defining characteristic of being human. I’d like to say that love is a defining characteristic of being human, but that would be wrong, since it’s obvious that animals love as well. Ever seen a mother with her young? It doesn’t matter what species they are, that bond is obvious. Unless they’re hamsters and they’re scared. But that’s a different story. Not a good story.
I would say love is a defining characteristic of being alive. It’s got something to do with whatever makes the world turn, the sun burn bright, and the stars connect to us so ineffably. But I'm not talking about love, I'm talking about art.
Art is something special. Something human. At least I think so. And great art begins with seeing. See what I'm saying? Seeing is believing. See here. (sorry, I can't help myself.) It's fundamental, like reading is fundamental to being a writer. But seeing can be the biggest challenge an artist undertakes. One of the greatest achievements an artist can aspire to is, in my opinion, the ability to see. Sounds deep, huh? Well maybe it is, but if you're irreverant like me, you might ask:
“What about a blind person? Can a blind person see? Can a blind person be an artist, too, Mr. thinking artist guy?”
Of course I say, you contentious rabblerouser, but you don’t need eyes to see beauty any more than you need ears to hear music. Really? Wow. Case in point: Beethoven. Stone deaf, writing some of the most inspired music of all time. Don't tell me that guy didn't hear music, he just heard it from within instead of from out.
Seeing is where the artist taps in to who they truly are, and what their place in the world is. Seeing is a unique way of seeing the world. Seeing is the intangible attribute of a great artist. It can be destroyed by convention, by imposed ideas, by insecurity, in short, by a loss of connection to one's sense of self. It flurishes with openness, acceptance and encouragement. Once it's attained, it can make one stubborn, individualistic, full of ideas, and turning out great artwork.
I was once on a hike in a local park with a friend. I remember it well: I was taking in the beauty of trees, of leaves, of the smell of nature, the running streams. Very beautiful stuff. But then we came to a parking lot. It was old, big and abandoned. There was a factory on the far side of it. My first reaction: I wanted to go back into the forest. But then my friend, in his punk-rock attitude, sat down in the middle of this old parking lot. I played along. I sat down with him and looked around. It was boring. It was hard. It was flat. It was an afront to the beauty of nature. He was really enjoying it. I mean this guy was weird. Anyone who knows him thinks he’s weird. But I also knew that he was a really gifted artist. I respected this guy. He didn’t say a thing. It was some kind of reverential moment, and it was real. There were no drugs involved. Okay, I’m lying, there were drugs involved. We were in art school, long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away. Get over it. My friend was asking in his silence: “we’ve been checking out nature for hours, and it was beautiful, but do you see what I’m seeing, here, now?”
I started looking around. I shut my brain off. As best I could, anyway. Okay, I admit, part of my brain is always shut off. Don’t bug me. But I was in the moment. (There's your pop-philosphy catch-phrase for the day). It was cool. I noticed the aged, cracked cement, the infinite variations of grey and black with the vibrant contrast of bright yellow lines. The earth beneath heaved the stiff concrete surface in areas, and sunk others. Through the cracks plants defiantly grew and nature was slowly, inevitably taking it back. Then there was the solitude of it… It was truly beautiful. And I'm a bona fide tree-hugger, so that's saying something. I’ll never forget that moment; that empty parking lot.
The point is that sometimes great art begins by looking around you with a different attitude. Maybe you could see it like a child: open to the idea that life is beautiful because you don’t know any better. Or like some wise old sage: you know so much about life and all it's trouble that you just choose to see the beauty anyway.
There’s a real peace to that. It doesn’t matter if you’re a child, a sage, blind, on drugs, an animal, or a scared mother hamster. Well, okay, maybe that’s stretching it. But art really is something special, isn’t it?
