As a parting shot from the woodworking sector I’d like to share this (hopefully) humorous look at myself as an artist… or non-artist, you decide.
My wife and I were attending a “serious” art show in a ritzy section of St Louis when an older woman approached a young man who was decked out in woven leather sandals, lime green Capri style pants, a bright yellow shirt – too small and unbuttoned to the navel – and a pair of bright pink Ben Franklin style eye glasses. His hair style was pretty odd too. The woman beamed as she approached and gushed, “Oh! Are you an artist?”
The young man glared at her over his Ben Franklins, “No, Madam, “ he said with obvious disdain, “I am an ar-TEEST!” with a wave of his hand and toss of his ridiculous hair on the second syllable.
“Oh,” sighed the grandmotherly one, obviously disappointed. ”I was hoping you were someone with talent.”
I’ll never know if this sweet old lady was actually the queen of come-backs or if she simply misunderstood and got lucky, but it is this encounter that comes to mind every time I meet a creative person who thinks more of themselves than they ought.
Because I am a creative person myself, I tend to meet a lot of other artistic folks. Some call themselves artists, some prefer craftsman or artisan, some shy away from a label of any kind. Most are wonderful, kind people. A few are a little odd. One is, well, he’s just weird.
I recently found myself wondering what it is that makes one person an artist, and another something different. Is there some criteria by which all creative persons are judged to see if they’re worthy of the coveted label of “Artist”?
Walt Akers, fellow woodworker/writer (and self professed artist) states that there are six steps to becoming a successful artist.
1) Work in a studio
2) Look different
3) Smell different
4) Think different
5) Act different
6) Have an entourage
Briefly, Walt surmises that ”serious” artists look, smell, think and act differently from normal people because they have to. How can they possibly come up with their artwork if they are just like everyone else? Answer, they can’t – they’re nuts, they have to be in order to think up the bizarre looking things they produce.
I must concede that most artistic types are a little different from non-artistic people. They have more vision, imagination, an ability to conceive an image in their minds, and talents to replicate it in real life. And it does seem that the more acclaimed an artist is, the odder they behave. Although it is unclear whether they were always that odd and their art is the result, or if they became increasingly odd as their acclaim mounted, perhaps because they felt is was expected of a “Serious” artist.
I do take issue with point number 3. Virtually every artistic person I know bathes regularly. Some of us may be a bit ripe at the end of a long day, but it is dealt with promptly. We do not strut our odiferousness around in public as a badge of honor. I suppose in order to find artists that are so “serious” that they cultivate offensive odors to prove their artistic integrity you would have to go to New York or Paris.
What about a “studio”? It does seem that everyone who refers to themselves as an artist, not an artisan or craftsman, works in a studio. What IS a studio?
The dictionary defines it as a place where an artist works. Well, OK. If that artist is a painter or sculptor, it seems natural enough. But what of those who work in mediums that are normally associated with a trade. Wood for example. I’ve run across many artists who work in wood. A couple were sculptors but more were wood turners and even furniture makers who insisted that their workspace was a studio. As though the word ‘shop’ is just too vulgar for them.
What’s the difference between a woodworking shop and a woodworking studio? When I think of a studio, I envision some loft apartment in Greenwich Village with a whole wall devoted to windows allowing cascades of sunlight in to work by. But the “studios” I’ve seen were ordinary, basic buildings containing a table saw, band saw, turning lathe, router table and a rack of lumber. Just like mine. Perhaps it’s the amount of rent you must pay. If you pay more than you can afford you call it a studio and hope to become a famous artist, if not it’s a workshop. No, more likely it’s simply that those who want to be called an artist call their workspace a studio because of the association there – even if it really is just a workshop after all.
So if I work in a workshop, then I suppose I can’t be an artist, according to Walt. And that’s OK. I build custom hardwood furniture. I’ve never considered my work to be “art”, although there is an artistic element to it: symmetry, form, quality construction. My chairs don’t look like they would run away from you if you tried to sit on them. My tables are not twisted into nightmarish forms. It’s real furniture for real people. Several years ago my wife, Marie, coined the phrase “Functional Art” for use in our work. I think it fits nicely.
I do agree wholeheartedly that an entourage is absolutely required to be an artist. An entourage, simply put, is a following, a fan club, a group of devotees, people who are willing to throw their money at you in exchange for your work. I call them “customers”. Without these people, we are nothing. No matter how highly we might think of ourselves or our work, if no one else shares that opinion, we starve. An entourage is essential.
The area I live in is just busting with artistically talented people. A bunch of us got together a few years ago and opened a small gallery called Treasures Of Appalachia. So those of us who don’t work in a studio can at least say we have our work in a gallery. Some call themselves artists, and fully deserve the title. Some call themselves crafters but deserve to be known as artists. And there a couple who claim to be artists, but, well, they have no “studio”, so they can’t be real artists can they?
Regardless of what they may be called, they are talented people. It is said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I suppose art is the same. I came across a nice short explanation of this whole topic on the Internet:
“He who works with his hands is a laborer.
He who works with his hands and his head is a craftsman.
He who works with his hands, his head, and his heart is an artist.” ― Francis of Assisi
I rather like that. Although I would add one more line:
He who works with his hands, head, heart and a liberal dose of psychosis is an arteest.
