I had a conversation with a friend recently that rejuvenated an ongoing debate in my brain.
"Hey [friend], have you ever painted before?" I asked.
"Yeah, a couple of times. Why?" He replied.
"Lately I have been having the itch to paint I guess, and I bought a book to read about it in the meantime. I've always loved painting." I casually told him.
"I have a neighbor that is insane. Don't laugh, actually insane. He sells his paintings for a living, and he's doing it! He's a working artist--demands respect."
"Uh huh," I replied. "And what makes him insane?"
"He gave up everything for it, and I mean everything. Things that you and I consider essential, he just gave them up so that he could be a working artist. But he is doing it, making it, you know?" My friend gestured.
I have always wondered if famous artists all have to sacrifice [just about] everything in order to be able to spend enough time with their medium to start getting it, making a living and possibly entertaining celebrity status. How does someone become famous? Why? What are their sacrifices? Are we all doomed to mediocrity, we who deem spending time with family and completing other normal responsibilities an important part of our daily routine?
This leads me to other questions. Is fame important? Is it important to me? At what point am I "making it" as an artist? Is art important? Is my work important? What makes things important? These are for another time, however.
The conversation above with my friend irked me. He seemingly relished the idea of a working artist, but scoffed at the decisions this man made to get there. I don't blame him, I too feasted my imagination upon this sadistic artistic idillyc lifestyle. As a Christian I immediately think about work and it's importance in life. It's definitely necessary, but important? Solomon said that work is meaningless, a chasing after the wind. "What do people gain from all their labors at which they toil under the sun?"
I pitied the insane artist neighbor; not right away, as part of me wished I was making it as a working artist too. And part of me was proud of this man for making it, ra ra mister. But to throw all the things away which make life the most beautiful and are the most important, for the misguided hope of elevated public achievement is... foolish. And yet I find it romantic in a struggling way.
As I continued pondering this artist's life and choices, new questions began to form. What if you don't have to throw it all away? Instead, what if having these wonderful things in life, like a wife and children, enhanced my art and made it all the better? What if spending infinite more time learning my art doesn't actually make me better at it? What, then, makes my art better? By experience, we conclude that practice makes perfect. But this can't be the sum total, the IT. Our lives inform our work. Our experiences inform our work. Our surroundings, happenings, coincidences, etc. What if there was a fast track, but it wasn't obvious like sacrifice all and work until you make it or die? I surely hope there is a fast track, one that includes family, friends, necessary distractions.
If this poor artist has it right, give up everything for your art, then art be damned. I can only think of one thing worth that, and it's to establish and deepen a relationship with the world's savior, the messiah, Jesus the Christ. In Him is my worth, my character, my purpose. All other things in life are simply frosting.
