“How To Be An Artist,” is the title of a popular poster by
the writer, SARK, Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy, which appeared in the 1990s and
is still popular. The poster is a list of suggestions and affirmations with
candy-coloured text beginning with the line, “stay loose,” and ending with the
line, “write love letters.” Similar to new age positive affirmation lists in
the Utne Reader, the positivity of the entire list can seem ridiculously utopian.
Sure, you can
“take moonbaths” or “learn to watch snails,” but SARK’s affirmations sound more
like therapy rather than anything of actual practical value that might help an
artist create good or great art. There’s nothing on her list about good ol’
boring practice, latent talent, or emulating artists for which you might have reverence.
It’s a sappy fun list and incredibly popular.
Yet it says a lot
about how we in the West put so much emphasis on the nostalgic above current
and past realities. Believing in magic, having transformative dreams, diving
in, being free, getting wet, hugging trees, and giggling with children are all
great activities for anyone let alone artists. And most everything on the list
is rather easy to do, except maybe “invite someone dangerous to tea,” or “plant
impossible gardens.”
SARK is implying
that we are all artists. It’s a very egalitarian concept and in some aspects
it’s not a bad idea that we all stretch ourselves a little to find our inner
creativity and our inner child. We could be better for it. “Anyone can cook,”
says Chef Gusteau from the animated film Ratatouille.
However, because
the list is unrealistic it completely ignores what made most artists of the
past truly great, and ignores what got a few of them killed and some put into
prison. Not that you have to be put in prison to be a great artist. In Canada,
we’re lucky that we can challenge the status quo without political retribution,
except maybe for the Conservative government cutting funding to the arts.
Artists today are
hunted down in many countries because they challenge authority. Ai Weiwei is
the most popular example today. He is an avant-garde Chinese artist who is
critical of the Chinese government’s abuse of human rights. Weiwei is no longer
in jail, but unable to leave his country due to trumped up charges. There are
political cartoonists in Chinese daily papers, but none dare challenge the Chinese
government. Rather, they attack the United States in very stereotypical fashion.
A series of
prints by Francisco Goya called the Disasters of War didn’t see the light of
day until 35 years after his death. His subject matter was regularly dark and
he was very critical of human “foibles and follies.” Theodore Gericault had
dead bodies in his studio, and body parts. The place stank of rotting flesh. He
needed this subject matter as reference material for one of the greatest
artworks ever produced, The Raft of the Medusa. The drive to produce this work
came from anger, the need to see justice enacted, and a belief that he could
change society for the better by revealing the ugly truth. His intent was to
make people angry. And he did.
The way to creating good and great art is
complex and imbedded within the times in which the art is created. The nostalgic
and childlike nature of SARK’s affirmations on how to be an artist says a lot
about our times, but actually works to annul what made art great in the past.
So maybe, if you want to be an artist producing good and great work, these cute
suggestions by SARK should be questioned. Try inverting each phrase in her
poster and see how this might create a different approach to creating art.
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