Friday, November 21, 2014

I am an Artist.

What makes an artist? Fame? How much a painting sells for? What is the magic that allows for one to say with confidence and knowing, "I am an artist" I often ask myself this when in conversation and people ask the frequent "what do you do?" I always smile and half laugh thinking what a silly question this is. Yes, what do you do? It's so vague and non descriptive and so non allowing....somehow this question is wanted to be answered in terms of how much money is made, what material possessions have been collected or what status has been achieved. It's quite funny when I answer, I am a painter, or I am an artist, I can almost feel the rolling of eyes in the questioning person the smirk of, isn't everyone? I was watching a documentary about Vincent Van Gogh a few nights ago. I felt such compassion for this man. He was treated so poorly, laughed at, rejected, and thought to be simply crazy. Maybe all artists are a bit "crazy" or maybe we are the sensible ones...the ones that really feel the human experience thoroughly, squeezing every last drop of pain and suffering through our hearts and minds until we disintegrate into a type of nothingness. Some artists are never recognized or even respected in their lifetime. Often times they pass away and their identity disappears on this earth plane, only to be praised and worshipped in spirit. I wonder of some artists I know today....I wonder of myself.. We will be remembered? will it take death to wake up the world to our expressions? I certainly hope people are able to appreciate the art that is being freely given each day, the gifts that artists bestow on us; and not waiting until the person can no longer hear the appreciation, but here and now tell them how much their gift of expression means to you.

could it be-

the gnarly roots
of the shadows
we sit in
are- in truth,
perched on 
freely rolling hills
and spilling, radiant 

Painting and Poetry by Mary Sayard