Art and Fear

[The Shadow One]

It's Been Awhile . . .

. . . since I last posted a musing (or a rambling, as some of a my closer friends tell me) here at the forum. There are several reasons. I have a new job that takes a chunk of my time. I have another job that takes even more time. I have the occasional date night to further occupy my time – although to be honest, it's been cold winter so far, if you get my drift (shoot me for the pun). So that last excuse isn't as valid as it could be. Here's to hoping Santa brings a little something special for The Shadow One.

But there's another reason, a primary reason. Procrastination.

Entire universities of psychologists have written books heavy enough to serve as curling weights on the topic of Art and Fear. The two go together like peanut butter and jelly. Christmas and credit cards. Ashlee Simpson and embarrassment.

I have an imaginary thousand dollar bill [Give me break – did you expect a real one? Have you forgotten I work at a library? The only people paid less money in America that schoolteachers are librarians] for the first person who can tell me why we procrastinate in doing the things we love to do. Why? Even when we know that if we act, we will find joy. You'd think we vault out of bed in the morning with an eagerness to do them.

Everyone knows what I'm talking about because all of us have something we really love to do (other than have sex, play video games or watch tasteless movies). Only you know what it is. It is something that when you do it you feel closer to your God, Gods, Center of the Universe, Agnostic Alternative to Deity (otherwise known as a desperate hope that what lies beyond death is something named Picard and employed by the United Federation of Planets). You do it because it makes you happy to do it well. Sometimes you even amaze yourself and you do it really well and you experience true joy. Sometimes it's hard, as hard as giving birth (or as hard as we men always imagine giving birth is) and when it finally comes together its like pure energy glowing into the room around you.

It's what makes you happy. And when it's good and its flowing out of your fingertips like pure energy, it's better than sex. Most sex, anyway.

Yes, you know what I'm talking about. It's Morrison and his music or Michelangelo and his art. And it's not enough in this lifetime that you be just good at it. You want to be the best. Bigger than Morrison. Bigger than Michelangelo. Hell, if Michelangelo painted the Sistene Chapel, you want to be invited to paint a mural on the ceilings in Madonna's new house.

But this dream, this talent (if you will), has a dark side, a dark nagging vision. You see yourself at forty-five, maybe fifty. You're still writing crap for the website of some drug company in Indiana and coming home tired and depressed and thinking the only thing that'll make you happy is three hours uninterrupted with your Muse. Instead, you flop on the couch, open a bottle of something cold and alcoholic and wish you had a job that paid you enough to buy TIVO. And after a decade of trying you're still not the best. Hell, you're not even second string. Somewhere in your now dilapidated apartment is a monument to your life – dozens of whatever you created: songs, pictures, manuscripts. And they just lay there, collecting dust, each one a brick in the monument of your personal failure.

In the face of this vision, you become afraid. Despite the best and kindest encouragement, you ignore your muse. Instead, you build castles in the sky – and not just castles. Oh no, you build entire civilizations. And you find comfort here, for there is no failure in an imaginary world.

Of course, there's no real success, either.

I know there are some real artists that peruse this forum. One or two of them may actually read these words. When you do, consider this: have you ever been afraid to create? Afraid of failure? Afraid of success? Just afraid?

I suspect that I am not the only to experience this emotion. If you have and let it beat you, tell us about it – maybe we can learn from your experience. If you have and won, tell us what worked and we will certainly learn from it.

The Shadow One

[Snowhobbit]

Hm, I write a bit myself and often dream of being a successful writer/poet, however as I'm only 16 and have my whole life ahead of me I've never really feared not becoming successful, or rather, I've never taken my fear seriously.
I believe that whether you succeed or not is depending on your will to risk it all for a chance, or to do it as a hobby and thus never truly devote yourself to it. The first option is the way to success, the second is the way to the nightmare you describe.

[Sasaki Kojiro]

"Those who are unable to motivate themselves must be content with mediocrity, no matter how impressive their other talents."
--Andrew Carnegie

[Louis VI the Fat]

I'm familiar with both succes and failure in following one's muse.

My first love is to play the guitar. At which I stink. I've tried hard, oh so hard. But the only money I've made from it is from people paying me ------------------------(Thanks neighbours, keep them cheques coming...)

My second love is writing, for which I do get paid!

Any moral? If at first you don't succeed, try, try and try harder. Then give up. No point in being an fool about it.

[Lemur]

Have you ever been afraid to create? Afraid of failure? Afraid of success? Just afraid?

I suspect that I am not the only to experience this emotion. If you have and let it beat you, tell us about it – maybe we can learn from your experience.

Shadow, you know a bit about my background. I've had about as much success writing for money as one can have without getting famous. And sure, I know exactly what you're talking about. To be quite honest, I'm just coming out of a loooong drought where I didn't want to write much of anything. Fear? Procrastination? Sure. Also, the new baby thing didn't help with my productivity.

When it comes to writing, I'm burdened by a completely unrealistic level of perfectionism, which can be crippling. I want everything to be perfect. Immediately. Now! Or everyone will laugh at me and call me a no-talent and I'll never have any friends and my grave will have the single word "FAKE" engraved on the cheap faux-marble. Yeah, that's what will happen. And of course, as soon as I start writing, it can't be perfect. It will be imperfect for a while, and I can't handle that. So it's often better not to write, since actually doing anything will invite the imperfection that turns my bowels to water.

I know how messed up that is, but often I'm helpless to fight it. I have friends who can just type and type and not give a damn if what's coming out is any good. I envy the living hell out of them.

Writing in non-professional venues is a good way to break my slump. Nobody cares if my emails or forum posts are pro quality, so I'm able to temporarily shut off my screaming-William-Shatner-gnome of perfectionism for a while. I also find drinking and sleep deprivation put me in a place where I just don't give a damn anymore, which is useful.

But when it comes down to a long-term fix, I usually just have to wait it out. If I'm not writing, then I'm not writing, and there's not a whole heck of a lot I can do about it. The universe usually tells me when it's time.

Now, for instance, things are kicking back into gear. An old friend has been made editor at a national mag, and he wants me to write for him again. Money is a good motivator. Also, a filmmaker just stumbled across a two-year-old script of mine and wants to film it. That's a motivator. Also, I take these as signs that break time is over, and I need to get back to work.

With these signs I'd say it's likely that I'm coming out of my slump, but nothing is certain. The Fear is a strong beast, a dark beast, a thing that snuffles around the campfire while I curl up in a ball of raw terror, and it's hard to know when done is done.

If I had to sum up my personal version of The Fear, I'd say it's a fear that I'm not good, and that anything I do will reveal how very not good I've been all this time. Paralyzing stuff.

Sound familiar?

P.S.: Since things are getting going again, I expect that my posting will drop to a trickle in these forums. But I'd like to thank the political nutjobs of the backroom for giving me a safe place to write for a while. It really was helpful. Therapeutic, you might say.

[master of the puppets]

Oh the pleasure of the oblivios. When ignorance is bliss than i am burdaned with torture, and all chances of high school success or popularity is retarted beyond repair. i am young i have a long life ahead of me (i hope) but this begining, the start to the real world makes me dispise that world. in 7th grade i wrote a 170 page book long enough to be a movie script. i was honored, but now in this god forsaken time of rationality such arts or fantisies fall to the the wayside. i am 14 damit! i am already planning for college a life after that. my leggacy as an artist becons me, my talents as a writer calls to a future of denial, and (before i came here at least) my knoledge of the ancient empires of the world is extensive but will bring little joy...mabey im just cynical. heart turned to bitter ash by torment and betrayel my art biutiful and illustrios thrown to the wayside. Let me turn back the cock let me return to the simple days lift this burden from my sholders and let me be free...i am cynical

please comment...i need a hug

[master of the puppets]

sweet if you stumbled on to that fumbled mess of dribble somewhere is in the forum disragaurd it completely. that above is my work my writing...cool
see when im on a erole i CAN do mediocre work. veeeery depressing oh well still please comment

[Beirut]

Unlike Lemurmania. I am not burdened by a unreasonable quest for perfection, but lack the inhibition to let my imagination hit the page.

I have been writing for regional newspapers here in Quebec for eight years now, and though I have no problems expressing opinions that drive the readers insane, I do hesitate when writing short stories. I hesitate to let out what's inside. And that is fear. And that is death.

I will never be a book writer. I don't have it in me to write hundreds of pages. But I love writing short stories. From a thousand to ten thousdand words. That's my playground. If I could just absolve myself of the responsibility of my "social conscience" I would do much better.

Fear and art. They go together like bicycles and swim fins.

[frogbeastegg]

I have been writing on average 5 pages of fiction every day for most of this year, and I can honestly say it's been smooth, aside from one or two problems that are almost entirely related to the format, i.e. posting on two internet forums. That's partly why I started writing a book, so I could do exactly as I wanted to and get my vision working as I wished instead of breaking it to get it to work as a serial posted on the net in games forums. With fiction I'm as happy as a frog in a very picturesque pond.

Guides, oh now that is totally different. The first guide was fine; a simple little thing summing up a few points and generally expected to eventually disappear into the ether. People loved it; it hung around, got expanded and revised, then pinned, then expanded some more and generally became a success I never even expected. Now expectations feel quite high; people expect good things from a froggy guide. I'm an innate perfectionist, and while I can keep that under control and working in a good way with fiction with guides it gets bad. I have a horror, an absolute horror of giving bad, incorrect or not so good advice. It upsets the perfectionist in me, and at the same time stomps all over the point of the guides. I want to give good advice. I also want to include everything humanly possible, not missing even a tiny shred of information.

The more 'famous' I become the worse it all gets. I really don't enjoy guide writing much.

[The Shadow One]

Sasaki:

"Those who are unable to motivate themselves must be content with mediocrity, no matter how impressive their other talents."
--Andrew Carnegie

Well, you are correct. While I prefer my grandmother's old bit of wisdom: "The Lord hates a coward" the effect is the same.

However, even the greatest talents have had a problem "motivating themselves." After all, wasn't it General Turenne, the hero of the Thirty Years War [and who won a tremendous victory against superior forces] who, when praised for his courage, replied: "I may conduct myself like a brave man but all the time I am afraid. . . . [I] say to my body, "Tremble, old carcass -- but walk!"

The Shadow One

[The Shadow One]

When it comes to writing, I'm burdened by a completely unrealistic level of perfectionism, which can be crippling. I want everything to be perfect. Immediately. Now! Or everyone will laugh at me and call me a no-talent and I'll never have any friends and my grave will have the single word "FAKE" engraved on the cheap faux-marble. Yeah, that's what will happen. And of course, as soon as I start writing, it can't be perfect. It will be imperfect for a while, and I can't handle that. So it's often better not to write, since actually doing anything will invite the imperfection that turns my bowels to water.

* * *

If I had to sum up my personal version of The Fear, I'd say it's a fear that I'm not good, and that anything I do will reveal how very not good I've been all this time. Paralyzing stuff.

Sound familiar?

[/i]

Lemur:

And I was afraid no one would understand me.

The problem with having people tell you that you have talent is the corresponding consequence of having to live up to the talent. As you say, I know a couple of writer-types that run their stuff through the computer once, twice if their having a good day, and send it out.

I, unfortunately, dwell on my writing. I rewrite five, six, eleven times. People -- my friends, of course, tell me that I've written great and wonderful stuff. I've entered a couple of contests and lost both times. I submitted a half dozen stories and have a nice pile of rejection slips.

My fears are two fold: that I will fail or be like the woman whose shameless glib appears on the back of a famous writing magazine: "Yes, I tried writing for fifteen years but after just one year's subscription to The Writer's Toolkit, I have now networked and groveled my way to success! You, too, can be like me and experience the joys of self-humilitation!"

And if you pick up a copy of the magazine sometime and see such a quote on the back by The Shadow One, feel free to shoot me.

My second fear is that I will be successful. You know, like Harper Lee or J. D. Salinger. That I will end up like a character from a Faulkner novel, hiding in my apartment, only coming out to throw rocks at the neighborhood cats (or kids). That people I don't like will never let me alone and people I do like will find me just a little too odd.

That said, I appreciated your comments. My best wishes of success to you [and to your new family]. If you go, I'll miss you, but rest assured I and the Leprechauns and the Gnomes will all pray for you. I wouldn't count on much help from the Trolls -- they generally dislike everyone.

The Shadow One



In the end, we all turn to dust. Therefore, it pays to buy a Dustbuster.

[The Shadow One]

Unlike Lemurmania. I am not burdened by a unreasonable quest for perfection, but lack the inhibition to let my imagination hit the page.

* * *

I will never be a book writer. I don't have it in me to write hundreds of pages. But I love writing short stories. From a thousand to ten thousdand words. That's my playground. If I could just absolve myself of the responsibility of my "social conscience" I would do much better.

I actually don't have a problem letting my imagination "hit the page." Once it's been down there awhile, it starts to look like something that got ran over by redneck pickup while it was trying to cross the road.

I encourage you to send out your short stories. Yes, send them out. Join me in my misery. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

Seriously, when I was in law school, students used to say that professors graded tests by standing at the top of the stairs and threw the tests upward an outward. Whichever tests fell on the fourth step (or whatever) got an A. Sometimes I think editors work the same way.

Good luck.

The Shadow One

[The Shadow One]

I have been writing on average 5 pages of fiction every day for most of this year, and I can honestly say it's been smooth, aside from one or two problems that are almost entirely related to the format, i.e. posting on two internet forums. That's partly why I started writing a book, so I could do exactly as I wanted to and get my vision working as I wished instead of breaking it to get it to work as a serial posted on the net in games forums. With fiction I'm as happy as a frog in a very picturesque pond.

Lady Frog:

Well, you're a better man, eh, woman, eh, frog than I. Five pages a day. Even assuming you're just putting 300 words a page, that's 1500 words a day or 10500 words per week or 546000 words per year. Assuming the average novel is about 90,000 words long, that means you're writing about six novels a year.

And that's pretty impressive.

The Shadow One

[The Shadow One]

To All:

Thanks for taking the time to reply. I really do appreciate it. After all, sharing the misery makes me feel better.

I've been thinking as I was writing my replies that I write because it is truly all I've ever loved to do. I never dreamed of getting rich or being insanely famous (or famously insane). Not really, anyway. I write because I feel alive when I do it. I feel energy flowing through my fingers as they dance across the keyboard. I am in love with life.

And yet I dislike the feeling of failure. Failing at writing would be like a kick in the face. By your girlfriend. Who's leaving you. For your best friend. Who owes you eighty bucks.

I say this in jest but writing is, as a friend once told me, like a bad girlfriend (or boyfriend). When she's there, showering you with her love, life is grand and magnificent. When she gone and no amount of intellectual groveling will bring her back, you're drowning your sorrows in alcohol and looking for that handgun your father left you.

She toys with you, calling to you in middle of the night, making you flee the warm comfort of your bed only to be gone when you get to her house. She showers her favors on others, even the most un-talented others, like the worst kind of promiscuous slut and refuses to give you a taste. They bask in the glow of her love while you do things that will shame you until you die just to earn a glimpse of her smile.

And you can't get away from her. Her laughing, sneering face appears in every Robert Ludlum novel, every Jerry Bruckheimer production, every episode of Fear Factor. Jeez, you tell yourself, anyone can get her. Anyone but me.

Then, like the pathetic excuse for a human being that you are, you pour yourself another beer and wonder what's on televison tonight.

The Shadow One

[The Shadow One]

[QUOTE=Snowhobbit]Hm, I write a bit myself and often dream of being a successful writer/poet, however as I'm only 16 and have my whole life ahead of me


Not if you get hit by a bus.



The Shadow One

[Togakure]

Does success for you require that other humans recognize and appreciate your art? If so, why?

For me it does to a degree, but not nearly as much so as it does to the majority of "artists" I've encountered. To earn the attention and appreciation of qualified critics, yes. But to be famous in the eyes/ears of the masses, no. Many equate personal fame and fortune resulting from making and selling art as the definition of success. I do not. In my book, that has nothing to do with artistic success. If you spend a decade or more studying and refining your skill you should be able to tell if your art merits appreciation, whether it is actually appreciated or not.

That you can create fine art, that you have created it, is what's important. To cater to the appreciation of the masses in a quest for financial gain has little to do with art.

I am a composer, graphic artist, systems designer, writer et. al. I have won awards in small circles, but I am not famous. I am a successful artist, nevertheless. No one can take it away from me. Rejoice in the making, in the endeavor and resulting beauty. If you can accept this as being enough, then anything else that happens is a nice bonus.

[Beirut]

I think it's quite normal to seek approval for your work. Even an introvert wants an outside opinion from time to time and will be much happier if the opinion is a positive one.

I have become accustomed to having the readers tell me what I wrote was very good. Just as accustomed as hearing that I should be shot for being such an a-hole. I admit I like the positive feedback. As as well as the negative when I see that I have pissed off a degenerate. Even my sweetie, much more mature in her outlook on life than myself, seeks approval for her paintings. Also, the quiet, everybody-loves-him long haired hippie I work with shows all his art and basks in the glory of people saying "hey, that's really good". Three different outlooks on life, three different art styles, all seeking outside recognition.

I think the people who produce and seek approval for their art outweighs those who do not.

[Sjakihata]

I'm not an artist, but I've always viewed art as a way to express oneself, be it books, paintings, films or music. Not a way to gain fortune, riches or recognition.

[Lemur]

I've always viewed art as a way to express oneself ... [snip] Not a way to gain fortune, riches or recognition.

And there you get to the heart of the matter. If an artist expresses himself in the forest, does anyone hear? Or rather, is talking to yourself as satisfying as having a conversation? Is singing to yourself as fulfilling as holding a concert? Is dancing about architecture more fun that singing about physics?

The debate about whether art is communication or expression is an old one, and there's no reason to re-start it here. But I will point out one thing: The number of people who enjoy art as communication is much higher than the number who enjoy art as pure expression.

It's not that either way of looking at it is right. But one is a hell of a lot more popular than the other. And on a purely personal level, I'd rather dance about architecture.

[ah_dut]

well, me I write, compose and definantly don't draw...but I'm realistic and don't give a flit frankly if you like or dislike what I do. I have no fear of failure as I am not a perfectionist, I have no urge to write that extra page that little bit better, that cadence that much more relevant. I simply prefer an extra hour's sleep.

[The Shadow One]

Does success for you require that other humans recognize and appreciate your art? If so, why?

For me it does to a degree, but not nearly as much so as it does to the majority of "artists" I've encountered. To earn the attention and appreciation of qualified critics, yes. But to be famous in the eyes/ears of the masses, no. Many equate personal fame and fortune resulting from making and selling art as the definition of success. I do not. In my book, that has nothing to do with artistic success. If you spend a decade or more studying and refining your skill you should be able to tell if your art merits appreciation, whether it is actually appreciated or not.

Toga:

I have to agree with Beruit and others who point that it is normal and, at times, necessary to seek approval for your art. Otherwise, the artist's work is self-serving and his or her soul unsatisfied. Rare is the artist, who like Salinger, can hide in his house for five or six decades and create with no intention of sharing the same with public -- and at the same time get some degree of satisfaction.

Even you recognize this need when you say: "to earn the appreciation of qualified critics." Who are these critics and what makes them qualified? Are these the same critics that hated Nabokov's Lolita? That refused to recognize writers like Poe and Melville until after they were dead? [That seems to be the one common demoninator of critics -- if they like you when you're alive, kiss any enduring fame goodbye.] Are they the movie critics for the New York Times or just those for Rotten Tomatoes? What if (as often happens) they love your work but the rest of the world thinks you're out in the dark? Does this mean the rest of the world is simply too dense or lacking in artistic instinct to recognize your talent?

Before you answer that question, consider this: in the late nineteenth century, when a relatively unknown English author name Bram Stroker published a book called Dracula, critics ignored the book to rave about other authors. Neither the reputations or the work of these authors endured beyond the end of the century. But consider the durability and lasting quality of Stoker's book, which was considered trite by the critics at the time [although it is now eagerly taught in Universities across the United States by drooling English professors who love to emphasize the suggested sexuality].

Stoker is not the exception. Kipling wrote for children. Isaac Singer wrote for Jewish community newspapers. Faulkner admits to writing for money and to pay for his beloved Rowen Oaks. And Shakespear? Please, he was trying to make the rent on the Globe theater.

These artists shared one common quality: they recognized (or maybe they didn't and it was just pure talent on their part) that for their work to endure it had to appeal to the harshest critics of all -- time and the masses. Sure, the masses like skin flicks and All Star Wrestling. But what they return to watch again and again, what they sit in cubicles across corporate america and talk about, are movies that tell a story and add a dimension to their lives, an experience that wasn't their before.

All creativity is rooted in the sharing of an emotional experience. The emphasis is on sharing. Creating and keeping to yourself is the intellectual equivalent of pleasure gratified beneath the covers with a magazine and a flashlight.

The Shadow One



That's not my Playboy. It must belong to Leprechauns.

[Togakure]

Toga:

... Creating and keeping to yourself is the intellectual equivalent of pleasure gratified beneath the covers with a magazine and a flashlight.

The Shadow One



That's not my Playboy. It must belong to Leprechauns.

Your analogy to masturbation is crude, and used in this context, rude and not appreciated (by me anyway, as it was at my expense; I'm sure there are others here who will enjoy it). I offered you my opinion because you asked. Now, as I see how you react to those who offer an opinion with which you do not agree, I will refrain from doing so in the future. You are looking for sympathy, not an honest opinion. But I will comment on what you have said.

You misunderstand me. I am not saying that artists should keep their art to themselves. I'm saying that a True artist creates art, without being preoccupied with notions of success dependent upon their work being adored by others. Many artists were not recognized in their time by "critics" (or by the masses). This illustrates what I'm talking about. Their art was good, despite what the masses and critics of their time thought. My guess is, many of them did what they did without trying to adapt it to what the masses and critics wanted; to do so would have violated their sense of artistic integrity. Financial and popular success do not define artistic success. They made what they made, with their own inner standard as their guide.

When I say critics, I mean other educated and experienced practitioners of the artform which you practice, people whom you respect. I did NOT mean those that have been recognized by the industry (key word). Fans are good for judging the emotional impact of your art, but are not in a position to effectively judge your art from a technical standpoint. The path to financial and popular success means beckoning to your fans, but the path to artistic "success" is much more than that, imo.

"Does this mean the rest of the world is simply too dense or lacking in artistic instinct to recognize your talent?"

Well, " ... the rest of the world ... " is obviously an exaggeration you've used for effect (as is the term "your" in this context ...), but in a nutshell--YES; if everyone out there was able to recognize, understand, appreciate, and execute the subtle nuances of an artform, they would be actively exercising their creativity in the medium too. Yet, some get their feelings hurt when an artist--who has spent YEARS studying, practicing, and refining their talent, doesn't take them as seriously as they would like. Sorry, but I have little patience for people who behave like this. Petulant, ignorant wannabes, imo. Fortunately, most are not like this, and truly appreciate the talent and huge investment made True artists--and respect them for it.

This is such an ironic discussion for me, because we had one just like it in Senior Comp back in Uni. The majority of the class held a similar opinion that has been expressed here. I and two others disagreed. Interesting that we three were, hands down, the most accomplished and recognized performers. After the rather heated debate, the three of us stayed after class to talk with the professor. As we departed, he winked at us and said: "Just keep doing what you're doing. Hopefully the others will see eventually. But don't be surprised if any one of them makes more money at this than you do!" We all had a good laugh.

I guess the bottom line depends on how you define success as an artist. As so many have pointed out to me, I am my own worst critic (surely you can relate to this?), and I consider myself successful when I slave and slave over a composition until finally I listen to it (or in your medium, read it) and say to myself: "Aha! THAT'S what I was striving for!! Right on!!!"

[The Shadow One]

Your analogy to masturbation is crude, and used in this context, rude and not appreciated (by me anyway, as it was at my expense; I'm sure there are others here who will enjoy it). I offered you my opinion because you asked. Now, as I see how you react to those who offer an opinion with which you do not agree, I will refrain from doing so in the future. You are looking for sympathy, not an honest opinion. But I will comment on what you have said.

You misunderstand me.

Toga:

I apologize if my analogy offended you; it was not meant to offend or even to be at your expense. Nor was I trying to "score points" or make fun of you or your opinion. The analogy makes this simple point: that all who create (sex is inherently a creative process) have a more enjoyable experience if they share with others. Both parties can gain pleasure, and even joy, from the sharing. While pleasure can be had alone, it does not equal the pleasure of the common shared experience. Creating for yourself alone is an inherently selfish process.

That said, I respect your right to disagree with me and I am not seeking sympathy.

My note was posted in response to the following statement in your original note:

Does success for you require that other humans recognize and appreciate your art? If so, why?

The statement implies that you do not require such recognition and appreciation, except from qualified critics. I responded to that position. You have now clarified your position in this last note.

I agree that it takes some understanding of the art form to be able to appreciate the technical nuances - particularly in your chosen field of expression (which I understand to be music). I appreciate your distinction between those who understand the art form and those who merely label themselves "critics."

I also agree that an artist who truly loves his or her work will create regardless of whether or not they earn money or receive professional or public recognition. However, [my opinion now] to create without any recognion (particularly public recognition) is a lonely and, at times, painful process. To create without financial recognition, makes that process even more difficult.

Sure, to endure and persevere, to continue to create and develop talent for the sake of talent itself, without any public or private support, is a noble endeavor. However, throughout history, mountains of art have been created for purposes other than the pure love of talent or art (particularly in the United States where we do not have wealthy patrons to support us). The idea of working twenty years on the talent I love only to still have to work a day job because I cannot support myself with my talent [either because the public or critics failed to appreciate it] is not something to which I aspire.

To create purely for oneself or purely for the sake of art [e.g. Salinger] and not show it to the world [because of fear of failure or critical reprisal] is akin to trying to establish a loving relationship with another person without putting yourself on the line. After all, we all know what it's like to be rejected. And that was the point of my analogy.

Again, I apologize if it offended.

The Shadow One

[Togakure]

... However, [my opinion now] to create without any recognion (particularly public recognition) is a lonely and, at times, painful process. ...

Yes, it can be. But the loneliness and pain can be overcome, when we realize that what we do has tremendous value whether or not anyone else appreciates it. Just not the kind of value that many today recognize.

... to continue to create and develop talent for the sake of talent itself, without any public or private support, is a noble endeavor. ...

Indeed it is. In The Seven Samurai, Kyuzo is my favorite character, and a model of sorts for me. He was of the world and put his skill to use--he didn't hide up in a cave and practice until he died--but, he practiced his art for the sake of his art and did not kill for fame or fortune, as was illustrated in his reluctance to engage in the tragic duel and his participation in the quest, respectively.

... However, throughout history, mountains of art have been created for purposes other than the pure love of talent or art (particularly in the United States where we do not have wealthy patrons to support us). The idea of working twenty years on the talent I love only to still have to work a day job because I cannot support myself with my talent [either because the public or critics failed to appreciate it] is not something to which I aspire. ...

Of course. Just because the desire for fame or fortune motivates an artist doesn't invalid his/her art. But it does distinguish them from more "noble" artists (to coin your term). Again though, this does not seem important to many today.

As to the last, I think every artist would agree with you there. I spent five years sacrificing a "normal" life trying to make it on the road as a club musician, slaving for the big break that never came. The hard lesson learned for me was: for that kind of success, it doesn't matter what you do or how good you are; success of that nature depends upon others and a great deal of luck. It's a gamble. Perhaps that experience helped me to see that I was equating fame and fortune with success, and that, given my capabilities and works, I was quite successful already.

Art and fear indeed: we fear what we cannot control if it has power over us. The industry and masses exert control over artists who base their success on fame and fortune. Those that can create for the sake of creation without this need free themselves from fear. Some who do this successfully attain such heights of unfettered excellence that the industry and masses cannot ignore them, even though they don't "play the game." I think these are the most successful artists of all.

... To create purely for oneself or purely for the sake of art [e.g. Salinger] and not show it to the world [because of fear of failure or critical reprisal] is akin to trying to establish a loving relationship with another person without putting yourself on the line. After all, we all know what it's like to be rejected. And that was the point of my analogy. ...

This is an interesting point, as I am in my 40s and live alone most of the time, by choice (at least, that's what I tell myself; your comment has inspired contemplation). Maybe my personal circumstances cause me to be sensitive to statements such as the one you made. I think too, that I've spent too much time bantering uselessly in other areas of this forum, where the patrons are far less considerate as a rule than they are in here. Whatever the case, I now understand your intent; there is no need for an apology.

In matters such as these, it's best to follow your heart. One person's path may not be another's. But ultimately, for artists, they all lead to the same place--fulfillment. I wish you the best of luck on your journey.