Work of Art: The Next Great Artist

This afternoon, I watched the episode of "Work of Art: The Next Great Artist" (Bravo) that I had DVR'd last night. I have a love/hate relationship with that show, but I just can't NOT watch it. I feel a real tie to the people on the show. I don't think that any one of them is exactly a GREAT artist, but ALL of them are trying to find their way. As artists, we have a need to create. Sometimes I think there are really two distinct kinds of artists, though: those who create because they must, for themselves...and those who must create, much like a performer must, for recognition and affirmation. There are all kinds of artists in this show. And I have my favorites, though some of them have been eliminated at this point. Only 6 of the 12 remain.

Today's show made me really sad. The challenge was to create something that showed how your childhood led to or influenced how or why you had become an artist. The materials they could use were restricted to those in the New York Children's Museum for Art. The artist took different ideas from this. Some actually tried to recreate childlike art, hoping to dredge up childhood feelings, I believe. Most were pretty confused about what to do, I think. As usual, Myles became a child himself, as he retreats into himself when he is anxious, which is most of the time. His creation turned out to be a large black and white panel made with black duct tape, which I can best describe as a blank crossword puzzle. He "enhanced" that by rolling piles of red, blue, and yellow rubber bands into balls and setting them in front of his panel. Ryan explored his childhood by drawing with his left hand, which produced very childlike art. The impression he left with me, though, was the feelings about his mother that were coming to the surface. Apparently, philosophical differences (ie., religion) had come between them, though he gave his mother all the credit for inspiring his artistic path. Mark chose to make a book, which was not a surprise. He seems to be very graphic minded and is most at home with Photoshop. Jacquelyn seemed really lost and spoke most poignantly about being alone and isolated during her childhood. Peregrine created a really WEIRD piece, reflecting her upbringing among a less than innocent San Francisco atmosphere. Nichole created a mobile-like hanging -- almost looked to me like TV dinners, since they were made of rectangular foam plates with items on each, covered by something that looked like waxed paper. I guess the one thing that really goads me about this show, really magnified in my mind in this episode. First, Simone, who seems to be the liaison, as it were, between the judges and the artists. He lets them know when time limits are approaching or gone. He also comes into the studio when the process is partway done and critiques the artists. Today that really bothered me, because a couple of the artists tossed what they had been doing and started over because of what he said to them. Both had disastrous pieces in the end. The judges are sometimes very haughty in my opinion, though, today they seemed very fair.

I guess what really hit me was how our childhoods and the people who are important to us during that phase are so instrumental or derogatory in what we do as adults. For some reason, when I was a kid, people told me I should be an artist. That's when my grandfather wasn't telling me I should be a nurse. I always liked making things. I loved scissors, particularly. And I remember loving to make little scenes with animals and trees, etc. with just paper, crayons, scissors and glue or tape. I remember getting an oil painting set when I was 11 or 12, and not knowing really what to do with it. I remember taking an art class at the community center and having the teacher finish it (pastels) and sign my name on it. My mother still has that piece. She always liked it, though I knew I didn't really do it. I remember having my high school art teacher take my clay pot and smash it on the table in front of me into a pile of mush. I also remember getting a red ribbon for a tissue collage I made and displayed at the county art and science fair. I resisted having an art major in college, because I had absolutely no self esteem and no direction in my life, only other people's expectations. (My dad enrolled me in the math program at Radford -- BAD idea!)

Now, here I am, 59 years old. I still don't know who I am as an artist. I keep grasping at things, but not quite getting into anything for long. Sometimes I just want to chuck it all, but I have this strong pull to create that I just cannot ignore. When I think about it, everything I do seems to be for recognition from others. Maybe it has something to do with being a first child. It also has to do with how I get mad at Bill when he acknowledges very little about what I do creatively. He is also a first child, craving affirmation. He gets some of that as a result of his work though.

So, what am I to conclude from this rant? I am lost as an artist, though I long to find a focus. I am clueless about what to do, though I long to master something. I admire people who create art and, at the same time, feel sorry for them because it opens them for such criticism. I have sought safety in crafts (scrapbooking, cross-stitching, jewelry making), partly because it seemed less selfish, partly because it gave me companionship of others with the same interest. But seeking safety in crafts makes me feel like I am still a child, coloring in the lines, when what I really long to do is break out.

A couple of years ago, I took some art classes, hoping I could find myself. Though I enjoyed aspects of the classes, especially the drawing class, I gave up for some reason and retreated back to crafts (scrapbooking and jewelry making). I am still in the Scrap Artz group (mixed media art), though I have always felt out of place there. I stay with it, simply because I do not have any other people with whom I can share the creative spark.

So, what now? This "Work of Art" program inspires me. The only way I'm going to find a focus is by going deep into myself and by doing the work, success or failure that it may be. I'm great at talking about stuff. Not so good at the follow-up. I have a "studio." I need to be in there more and less in front of the TV. I keep thinking to myself: "You've got all that stuff. You could make a hundred things just out what you have!" The Nike commercial says it best: "Just DO it!" And then I say to myself, "Self, what are you afraid of?"