By Admin
Monday, August 11, 2008
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“About four or five years ago something came over me and I just had to paint all the time.”
As tempting as it may be to interject with a quick and spirited “that’s what she said”, followed by an I-just-can’t-help-myself, shit-eating grin, I’ll restrain myself.
Reluctantly.
I am quoting one of the artists who managed to finagle his artwork into the St. Augustine First Friday Art Walk. Though, finagle is probably not the right word for it. Apparently it’s really not all that difficult to get your work displayed. As I see it, all you need is some paint, a basic understanding of the color wheel, and an ego the size of a Don Johnson’s growing gut. Presumably most of the artists I’ve seen on these walks must possess such sizable egos for how could they otherwise manage to dig up all that shockingly foolish audacity.
Ok I exaggerated. You actually don’t need to have a basic sense of the color wheel. Indeed no sense at all.
So, my dear wannabe artist, Mom knows what’s best for you and was always your biggest fan when it comes to your art, but lest we forget, Mom also has selective blindness when it comes to her spawn. For instance, wasn’t she the one trying to convince everyone how adorable you were as an infant when indeed your looks had, at best, a resemblance suspiciously like that of a hairless troll?
PHASES OF THE OPEN MIND
Through decades of observation and direct participation my mind has reached phase IV of the letting in and pushing out of all things art related. If you are an aspiring artist between the ages of 25ish to 35ish you should be right there with me. This phase allows for a certain amount of justified subjective criticism towards the works of all those self-proclaimed artists out there so as to better able our impressionable minds to reject all that unfiltered nonsense.
PHASE I: Doo Doo Run Run Run, Doo Doo Run Run
Infant To Juvenile
Don’t you wish we could all go back to the days when we thought everything to be so wondrous and beautiful that even the very caca doodoo in our pants brought a sparkle to our infantile eye?
Well I don’t.
Though in many ways it’d be nice to see all things in a new light with the eyes of an infant, there are certain things that should never be received with such open arms – like certain works of art that in many ways could use the same descriptive words as those you would use to describe caca doodoo
When you’re that young, the limitations of personal bias is usually not an issue, however the limitations of your naivety certainly far out way subjectivity.
PHASE II: Know Jack, Know Crap. No Jack, No Crap.
Adolescence
“Mommy, that Jackson Pollock painting is so stupid! I could do way better.”
Ah kids. Ya gotta love em. They always know how to keep it real. And let’s face it Jack, the little brat’s got a point. It is at this age that we are becoming more selective about personal taste and conscientious of art and the making of it. Our minds begin to close off quite a bit.
Don’t panic. A closing up of the mind after several years of being open wider than Ben Affleck’s schedule is a good thing. We can finally begin to defend ourselves from all that shallow, kitsch, artsy fartsy crap. This phase prepares us for a careful and thoroughly discerning re-opening of the mind.
Which brings us to..
PHASE III: Dude, Where’s My Opinion?
College Kid
You don’t need a college degree in art and design to understand art, buuuuut it helps get you out of phase II and through phase III a hell of a lot faster. All those class critiques, cramming for exams, writing of papers, you eat drink and crap art every single day for roughly four years. You are again as wide open as Amy Winehouse’s track marks, but, like Amy’s nasty little habit, only on and off.
But mostly on.
Your once closed mind is now scolded and shunned, dare you speak even one disparaging word against any artist, great or not, let alone against good ol’ Jackson.
And don’t get me started on Andy.
PHASE IV: Andy You’re a Star…In Some People’s Eyes
Out in the Real World
I hate to say this but this isn’t by any means the final phase. Nowhere near, really. In fact, phase IV is going to be significantly different for everyone. We are now discovering the critical balance of the letting in and pushing out. To know when to open up to something smart and to know when to shield the shit.
It’s a good feeling to be in phase IV. Despite how pompous it may sound to someone still in phase III, I love that I can look at a wannabe work of art and say out loud, free of guilt and the repression that is the popular kid vote, that it sucks. That it’s an already been done and shouldn’t have been done in the first place, please get a job as an accountant as there is where your talent is more likely to reside, god-awful piece of crap.
And oh, hey Andy, listen, your work sucks and all but you’ll be happy to know that I’ve at least come to acknowledge the sheer brilliance of the message behind it and the vital impression you’ve left upon me as well as upon this world.
Where I’m at in phase IV - contemplating the theory that anything could be art.
Confused?
Yeah, so am I.
CONCLUSION: Run, Don’t Walk
Wannabe artists can best be described as a bunch of rampant monkeys flinging their feces at any and every innocent and unsuspecting passerby.
Don’t let this happen to you.
Good luck to you, dear reader, on your journey through your own city’s Art Walk. If it’s anything like St. Augustine… God help you.