Metro drawings, 3/3/2011
Standing in a big room full of Picassos, the first thought that presents itself is "absolute genius," quickly followed by two others, which immediately start fighting for supremacy: "How did he possibly get all this work done?" and "I am such a slouch!"
At MOMA, we saw a modest exhibit - not a big blockbuster, by any means - titled Picasso Guitars, 1912-1914. The room was filled with drawings, collages, and a few paintings and sculptures, from a breakthrough period of experimentation that spanned a mere two years. (Of course, Picasso was also doing work on other subjects at the same time.) We noted that, on one wall, a series of five or six collages represented a period of only two days, and traced a clear path toward realizing the goal that was expressed in the final work of the series. "That's the thing," said one of my companions. "He ws after something, and just kept working until he found it -- and even then kept moving on." And then he continued: "Doesn't It makes you want to go home and explore some of your own ideas with a lot greater focus?"
Absolutely. For me, there's nothing like being in a huge cultural mecca like New York to inspire and stimulate my own creativity. I was thrilled to share some celebratory moments with my friend Teju whose debut novel, Open City, is meeting with such critical acclaim; I was inspired by Picasso and a wonderful show of photography by women; happy to have deep and mutually-supportive conversations with literary, artistic, and musical friends, new and old; and breathed a great sigh of pleasure and relief at finding myself in The Strand, a huge, multi-floor English-language bookstore, filled with attentively browsing readers of literature, poetry, and art books.
On the drive home, my head was buzzing with ideas. Only after being here a few days, facing the blank screen and a studio full of art materials, did I come back to my own reality of having to make a living, do volunteer jobs I've promised, and take care of a house and a marriage - not to mention numerous other relationships and commitments, such as this blog! But the feeling has persisted that it's a good time to re-establish some priorities and focus, and so I've made time each day for my writing projects and for thinking hard about what's next. I'm going to continue to reflect on these questions in a deep way during Lent, which starts on Wednesday.
The time in New York has also made me think, "what is this elusive thing we call 'success?'" Actually, I wish we could throw the word out of our vocabularies, because "success" always seems to imply comparison to something or someone else, and as a result, we find ourselves pursuing goals that can never be reached. Our culture, with its cult of celebrity and wealth, reinforces our own insecurities, (and marketing, of course, uses that fact about human nature to make us feel inadequate and manipulate our behavior.) Many people who feel the stirrings of desire for self-expression are defeated before they even begin; others become dejected and discouraged at the rejections and disappointments which invariably accompany "going public" with the fragile flames of creativity that burn within nearly all of us.
There's no question that the artists whose work hangs in major museums were talented, but -- as Picasso's example shows us -- talent means nothing if we aren't willing to go into the studio every day and do the work. Success in the eyes of the world is quixotic, only given to a few, and often going away very quickly, so we need to be motivated by other things, such as the sheer joy of creating; the desire for self-expression and self-discovery; the challenge to grow and learn; the desire to create a body of work that says something about the arc of a human life; striving to do the very best work of which we are capable, and seeing each work as a stepping-stone to the next; realizing that doing creative work over a long time can be a path to wisdom.
For my own part, looking back over fifty-some years of practice in the visual arts, writing, and music, it's clear that my refusal to choose one of those areas and focus exclusively on it has limited my "success" as a pure artist, writer, or musician. On the other hand, my life has been immeasurably enriched by my stubborn insistence on working in all those areas, sometimes dropping one for a while, but basically continuing to pick up all three threads and bring them along. There was a time when I couldn't see how these threads added up to anything by a cloth full of holes; now I can see the wholeness - or even the holiness - these threads represent, because the decision to do this was truer to me than, for instance, dropping music from my life entirely. It's a path that has taken a different kind of intention and discipline than the five-hours-of-piano-each-day kind, and has at times involved plenty of confusion, self-recrimination, and doubt, as well as a great deal of happiness and satisfaction.
But that's my life. Each of us is different, and what will make each of our lives "a success" is something that we have to discover inside ourselves, not by having the world affirm us. Even the most acclaimed novelist or pianist still has to face the blank page or the next concert hall. So this isn't easy work, and it goes on for a whole lifetime, but I think it's a big part of why we're here. Art, defined in the broadest possible way, exists to help us discover ourselves, and gives us, every day, the opportunity for a new beginning.
So, so inspiring, Beth! I love the concept of re-prioritizing, and this is a fantastic reminder about creating success through working on what is significant. It's interesting how this was only a 2 year period in his life, full of experimentation and in-betweenness. It shows a patience with process that I admire.
Posted by: Hannah Stephenson | March 06, 2011 at 08:33 PM
Thank you so much for this Beth. Very inspiring.
Posted by: Uma Gowrishankar | March 07, 2011 at 12:05 AM
Oh you are SO right Beth!
I am especially in agreement about the sources of 'inspiration' which is a theme that runs through my life like a bright thread woven in a tapestry - expose yourself to new experiences, see new images, listen to new voices, surround yourself with art, literature, music and science. That is the way to exercise the brain and to open up the channels of creativity. That is the way to evolve and grow.
Posted by: Julie | March 07, 2011 at 03:39 AM
PS. I thought about you on Saturday...
Sitting in a pub that was a former chapel amongst a group of strangers all present for the same purpose (sword dancing), there were so many 'unique faces', so many unusual people, I thought "I wonder how Beth would sketch that person?" and that led me to seeing them from a different perspective and longing to grab a pen and paper. And I am no artist believe me!
See how we all influence each other!
Posted by: Julie | March 07, 2011 at 03:43 AM
What amazing sketches. Both these people look like they could come from another age as easily as this one.
And what wise and honest and lovely reflections. I think it must be very painful and frustrating sometimes to be as multitalented as you are - as you say, there will always, necessarily, be a potential unfulfilled, one choice cutting off another, or no choice made meaning no path explored as fully as it might be.
And, well, creative talent does seem to wreak havoc in lives, doesn't it? as well as bringing enormous fulfilment to the creator and enrichment to others. Just as love wreaks havoc, and beauty...
Thank you for sharing this so wonderfully well, and for not giving up on the whole wonderful mess of it all.
Posted by: Jean | March 07, 2011 at 05:05 AM
One of the keys to Picasso's success was that he ruthlessly used women.
Posted by: Hattie | March 07, 2011 at 03:18 PM
Yes, yes and yes.
This is very timely. Thank you, Beth.
Posted by: Parmanu | March 07, 2011 at 04:17 PM
Uma, thank you for writing. I'm glad if it gave you something worthwhile - I've struggled with these issues for a long time!
Hi Julie -- and thanks for your comments, I know you think this way too!! But I'm especially happy to hear that you thought of me and of sketching in that pub, that's wonderful. Next time, grab a napkin and a pen and make some lines...who cares what the result is, so much of the time it's just the fact that we respond - n'est-ce pas?
Thanks, Jean, yes it is a wonderful mess! And has been quite painful and confusing at times, but I seem to be less caught in that as I get older...
Hattie - Of course that's true about Picasso. In the original essay I had a line or two about that but took them out, perhaps I should have left them in. What I wanted to focus on here was his work habit and obsessive determination, day after day. Living with him --as it is with a lot of driven, arrogant, manipulative artists -- was hell for the women. He's probably not the best example because of the very dark side of his creativity, but it was what I had at hand...Thanks for the comment, it's an important one --
Parmanu - thank you.
Posted by: Beth | March 07, 2011 at 04:49 PM
Wonderful and inspiring post, Beth, with so much that is true for me too! I think as artists we sometimes have to give something up in order to have enough time for it, or else we make compromises. With a husband, a family, looking after parents some years, I had to give up piano and do less art but I was determined not to give it up entirely during the hardest years. I am not a 'success' in the sense of a Picasso (if only I'd had many wives, heh) but I'm content and happy with my life. Sometimes I scold myself for not being more ambitious and going after more exhibitions and sales and all that, but it's just not my thing, I guess. Now what to do with all the work I'm storing and still making, hmm? Anyway, as you know, your last paragraph rings so true for me too!
Posted by: Marja-Leena | March 07, 2011 at 10:23 PM
I'm with Hannah and Jean: inspiring and encouraging for others stuck within 'the whole wonderful mess of it all'. Thanks, Beth, for the clarity and passion of this.
Posted by: Dick | March 08, 2011 at 09:31 AM
Beth, I too identify very much with all of what you said. The thing about Picasso (and other artists with a similar one-track mind) is that he was obsessed with making art from the age of about 12 and never stopped being obsessed right up until his death. So, yes, he got a lot done and much of it was great work, but everything else in his life, relationships included, was subordinate to this obsession, whether he was poor or mega-wealthy. I don't think it's possible to manufacture such obsessiveness if one isn't born with it so while I too berate myself for my 'slouchiness' I know that I never took that obsessive road and it's very unlikely (okay, impossible) that I'll take it at this late date. But I do sort of envy it - that Picassoesque egocentric one-trackmindedness,even if it's hell for those who come too close!
Love your sketches, full of life and verve!
Posted by: Natalie | March 08, 2011 at 08:48 PM
Natalie, thanks for the comment...As for me, it's been a question of priorities, and kindness and love for those close to me have always come first. I'm sort of sorry I've lacked that kind of focus, but I think I've had a lot more genuine love in my life, and many fewer things to regret. Life has also been more fun, don't you think? The obsessiveness comes with some pretty high costs. Glad you like the sketches! I think they're getting easier and freer. How about some new ones from you?
Posted by: Beth | March 08, 2011 at 09:14 PM
As somebody who feels clear on the idea that we don't do anything to earn our gifts, I agree that success is wrongly defined by our world--so much is, really.
But I don't think that I do agree with the slant in many of the comments: that is, I don't think an obsessive artist has to hurt or destroy those around him. I think it is possible to be another way--or to learn to be another way over time, given right thinking.
In fact, I believe that a stance of humility before one's art--the tradition, the works of human hands now gone, the beauty of forms--ought to lead one in the direction of love.
Posted by: marly youmans | March 09, 2011 at 12:14 AM
Marly, thanks for that. Maybe we need to define what we mean here by "obsessiveness" -- and who better than you to talk about this issue, as a prolific author who is also a devoted mother and wife? What I meant by the word "obsessive" in terms of Picasso, and some other equally-driven creatives I've known, is a statement I heard one of them make once: "My wife and children are very nice, I'm glad I've had them, but my work has always come first." I knew that wife and children and knew how they had suffered from his neglect and lack of genuine interest in their lives; if he had been more honest he would have said "my wife and children have been useful." I don't mean to turn this into a feminist issue, but I wonder how many female artists or writers would say something like that? It's more likely that they would not have married and had children at all. And a lot of us --male and female -- have had to juggle other types of employment with our desire to create, as well as our families. It gets complicated.
Having said that, I agree so much with what you said about where "right thinking" and humility can lead us, and thank you for saying it here!
Posted by: Beth | March 09, 2011 at 03:35 PM
Well, certainly I would not have said it! Life comes first. One's spouse and children are part of the great stream of life; to reject them must be to diminish one's achievement as a human being because it means rejecting a major part of life. That man would have been a greater man and, I like to think, a greater artist if he had attempted to find a balance.
I've done a lot of writing with three children whizzing around me or playing on the floor nearby... I have to admit that I am obsessive, but I'm also lucky in one other odd way, very helpful to a woman. I am able to concentrate deeply, even in the presence of others (if they don't go wholly berserk!), and I can leave something I'm working on and go back to it and immerse myself quickly. This (or is that two things?) is helpful.
And then I have a husband who is a very fine cook! To be relieved of dinner is a grand thing for a writer. Making things takes a good deal of time, it seems.
Posted by: marly youmans | March 09, 2011 at 03:50 PM
Thanks, Marly -- and I think that your ability to concentrate is not only lucky, but rare. So many of us are always seeking solitude, quiet, that "room of one's own." It's a lot easier for me to draw when other people are around than it is for me to write. The sound of language - in the form of voices or even vocal music - divides my mind when it's also occupied with words and it's really really hard for me to block it out. Were you able to study in a noisy dorm? I bet you were one of those who could!
Posted by: Beth | March 09, 2011 at 04:12 PM
I agree with both Marly and you Beth, but I think that painters (or other visual artists) have a somewhat different problem to writers. The necessity for physical space, materials and at least some degree of privacy means that a visual artist is going to need more time/space away from family and/or other distractions than a writer. So for a female visual artist who is married and/or has young children it is extremely difficult to find that time/space, unless she's able to afford home help and/or has a partner who looks after that side of things. My first art teacher, at 16, advised me never to marry if I wanted to pursue painting.
I know that some very productive women visual artists have been able to manage both, but they are the exception. There's another factor too: the ego-driven 'obsessive' focus (I don't mean it in a negative sense) which says "my work comes first" is found much more often in the male rather than in the female and, in my opinion, that's not only because of cultural conditioning etc.
The article I edited for The Guardian in 2008 about women artists is about this subject. Some might like to look it up:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2008/jun/18/women.healthandwellbeing
Posted by: Natalie | March 09, 2011 at 04:35 PM
Very interesting discussion -- especially hearing how Marly manages it, which has always puzzled me.
I think of success very much the same way I think about any other calamity: as something to be avoided at all costs. I write, blog, etc. because they are pleasurable activities.
Posted by: Dave | March 09, 2011 at 11:45 PM
"What is Success?" I am not sure that I know what it is...but I know what it is not. Success is not status, material wealth, or accolades.
Maybe success is simply knowing who you are and being ok with that.
Posted by: Joyce Sanchez | March 11, 2011 at 06:50 PM
So many interesting and thought-provoking ideas here, both in post and comments. I just embarked on a comment which became so lengthy it was in danger of turning into an essay, so I've cut it out and will paste it somewhere to ruminate on further, which is probably an indication of how disorganised I am about my creative energies!
I do envy Marly her ability to focus and refocus quickly...
Posted by: Lucy | March 13, 2011 at 12:17 PM
People are so different with such varied talents and approaches to creative activity. I am certain that Picasso was endowed with phenomenal ability, and as Natalie says, was obsessed with the desire to paint and draw. I find as I age that I am more realistic about my own talents and work ethic. I am sure that with more effort, thought and application I could have done better. On the other hand, I see that my ability has definite limits. I could never have written as well as, just for example, E.B White, or even many of the people whose blogs I read. I could never have made etchings as good as, just for example, Jim Dine. I envy you, Beth, your ability to knock off a quick, evocative sketch. I admire the fact that you are proficient at music as well as writing and drawing. I am not as smart as my parents (but a lot smarter than my sister.) Some of my own children have more talent and are cleverer than I. I find I can live with this knowledge.
Note: I find it interesting that 2 of the blogs I read are friends with the author of Open City. I think this means that I should buy the book and read it.
Posted by: Anne Gibert | March 13, 2011 at 06:14 PM
Derry Watkins is one of those quintessential British plantswomen that are endlessly impressive - I'd love to channel her brain, let alone plunder her garden! At least it's possible to get on her mailing list for seed unlike any you've seen before. Watkins sells fresh collected seeds of herbaceous perennials, tender perennials, annuals, biennials, grasses, umbels and almost every sort of plant apart from trees and aquatics. Many are her own new introductions.
Posted by: Christian louboutin slingback | March 21, 2011 at 09:51 AM
Here via Lucy, who pointed me to your post after reading something over at my place (is a blog a place?).
Thankyou for this. Your inspirational words have wandered through my head all morning.
My 'drive' has slunk away right now and my 'focus' went out the door to join it! I am blaming the hot australian summer. As for 'success', that to me, is getting a work finished...
Posted by: herhimnbryn | March 21, 2011 at 06:27 PM
Beth, I can't possibly remember all the way back to a dorm!
Dave is funny on success! Run away! But I am surprised to find that I puzzled him...
Natalie's point: well, I do know women who chose not to marry because of writing or because of painting. I also have a painter friend whose husband was agreeable to the idea that they not have children. And I would say that he is a true helpmeet who gives his wife a lot of assistance when he is home plus leaves her alone a good deal because of his work. Mine certainly helps me by taking away cooking duties most evenings.
And that business of focus Lucy mentions: I don't know how that is. I didn't realize that it was something I had that was different for a long time.
You evoked a lot of interesting comments.
Posted by: marly youmans | March 30, 2011 at 08:55 PM