I agree with, and identify with, so much of what you write here about artists: those who feel the need to make the internal external, who seek and express those emotional and timeless truths, whose art seeks them out in ways we cannot resist, who would create their art whether it paid a cent or was ever read or acclaimed or stood the test of time or any other external reward, but do so only because they must and seems essential to who and what they are. And because doing so fulfills them, answers a need. Because the work of creating this is so interesting and challenging and inspiring and so gives so much pleasure. And we only want to be left alone so we can do this work, and whether it finds its place in the world or not is not our business and not the point, although the offering must be made, for it's not for us alone. It really doesn't belong to us at all.
Your passion is your superpower, Michael. Must say though that having met more than several artists - and knowing two enough to call friends - except for one (Abbie Hoffman) you would walk by them on the street and they were like everyone else. No pretense. They sought no overt attention. Writing (in one case) and being left alone to paint (in another) was enough for them.
I would add the distinction that art will stand the test of time. When I hold myself up to your definition I fit some of the criteria of an artist because I am searching for universal truths and I have tried to walk away many times and cannot. The calling to both writing and teaching runs deep. However, I am under no illusion that what I am creating in my work is art because the work alone will not stand the test of time. My work may have a legacy aspect by igniting a spark in others, so in an intangible way it may carry on but that's where it stops. While deeply meaningful to me, and hopefully a few others, I write with a means to an end.
There are others here on Substack, you being one, who write essays that stop us in our tracks. The work holds meaning in and of itself, it can stand alone in perpetuity. It IS the end. To me, this is art.
2) What you describe as literary Art seems too disconnected, for my tastes, to style. I'll go with the Nabokovian definition of getting a shiver up your spine when you read something that is truly Art. Style and substance are almost always inextricably linked for me.
3) I am a fan of Emma Cline, but The Girls was not for me. However, I thought, The Guest was a great book.
I wrote a post called "The Despicable Rich" about it this summer when it first came out.
I agree with, and identify with, so much of what you write here about artists: those who feel the need to make the internal external, who seek and express those emotional and timeless truths, whose art seeks them out in ways we cannot resist, who would create their art whether it paid a cent or was ever read or acclaimed or stood the test of time or any other external reward, but do so only because they must and seems essential to who and what they are. And because doing so fulfills them, answers a need. Because the work of creating this is so interesting and challenging and inspiring and so gives so much pleasure. And we only want to be left alone so we can do this work, and whether it finds its place in the world or not is not our business and not the point, although the offering must be made, for it's not for us alone. It really doesn't belong to us at all.
Your passion is your superpower, Michael. Must say though that having met more than several artists - and knowing two enough to call friends - except for one (Abbie Hoffman) you would walk by them on the street and they were like everyone else. No pretense. They sought no overt attention. Writing (in one case) and being left alone to paint (in another) was enough for them.
Thanks for this great article, Michael.
I would add the distinction that art will stand the test of time. When I hold myself up to your definition I fit some of the criteria of an artist because I am searching for universal truths and I have tried to walk away many times and cannot. The calling to both writing and teaching runs deep. However, I am under no illusion that what I am creating in my work is art because the work alone will not stand the test of time. My work may have a legacy aspect by igniting a spark in others, so in an intangible way it may carry on but that's where it stops. While deeply meaningful to me, and hopefully a few others, I write with a means to an end.
There are others here on Substack, you being one, who write essays that stop us in our tracks. The work holds meaning in and of itself, it can stand alone in perpetuity. It IS the end. To me, this is art.
A few comments:
1) Thought provoking post. Than you!
2) What you describe as literary Art seems too disconnected, for my tastes, to style. I'll go with the Nabokovian definition of getting a shiver up your spine when you read something that is truly Art. Style and substance are almost always inextricably linked for me.
3) I am a fan of Emma Cline, but The Girls was not for me. However, I thought, The Guest was a great book.
I wrote a post called "The Despicable Rich" about it this summer when it first came out.
https://robertsdavidn.substack.com/p/the-despicable-rich
robertsdavidn.substack.com/about