Dear Art Lover,

This is Part 5 of 5 in a series called “Opportunities”, the conclusion of the series.  You can read the previous parts and many more writings on the Newsletter Archive section of my website, here.  Onto…

Opportunities, Part 5 of 5:  Rub a Pug’s Ears

I wish there was a narrative where I’m doing all this “for the audience”, but in truth, I am doing this for me.  I know what it feels like to know you are made to do something, maybe born for it, or at least, it’s so consummately enjoyable that even on the worst days with it you know you’re going to try again tomorrow.  We are all drawn to certain activities, feelings, spiritual purposes, sensations, intuitions, the deepest parts of ourselves getting scratched in just the right spot, followed by a relief like none other.  Rub a pug’s smooshy ears - the expression on their face will approximate the feeling.  Those little felt ears are deigned to be rubbed - and the pug knows it, and will seek out that experience.  I spent a huge amount of time, decades, trying to push what I am made to do aside in favor of what I believed was expected of me, or what was required to satisfy external pressures.  Maybe you are reading this, thinking, what would I do, given the total freedom to do it?  Not having an answer seems more common these days than having one.  Searching one’s childhood can be a fruitful start.  Regardless, five years ago was a turning point, when I committed to beginning art-as-career extremely naively - believing in my vanity that all it would take would be for me to make art, as well as I could, a lot, and the world would take notice and the details would work themselves out later.  I believed that I was “good at art”, and in the spirit of meritocracy, being good would be enough to make it all work.

Given the chance to glimpse what the next five years would take (say I time traveled back to give younger me a picture of the next five years), I can’t honestly write that I would press on from there - I’m not that brave.  Some of the things I did were things I may only ever do once, because doing them twice, I don’t have it in me.  An ignorance of the challenges to come ended up being a strategic advantage, one that I now carry with me as I simply do the best I can in the moment, day in day out.

It appears to me, although I can never know for sure, that by following my art, letting that part of what I do lead, the people around me are brought into enriched experiences, as well.  If my passion were destructive, I would be remiss to follow it, but there seems to be consensus in humans that the production of artwork is largely a net positive effect.  One of the very few things we know for sure about our species from 40,000 years ago (we are virtually unchanged on an evolutionary scale from these ancestors) is that we painted.  I’m no anthropologist, but I suspect the equestrian cave paintings at Chauvet Cave weren’t made on commission, but were made for the sheer joy of depicting familiar subjects in two-dimensional representation.  I see in the 32,000 year-old cave paintings at Chauvet Cave the exact same spark of life I felt as a child, drawing sharks from memory, over and over.  I was lucky that my parents always encouraged me to draw, to make art, and that as I grew I never stopped drawing.  I owe them gratitude beyond measure.  The audience of my work owes their impressions more to my parents’ dedication to my art, to endless art classes and encouragement, than to my hand.  My skillset for art itself was largely given by the nurturing of my family and my extended artistic communities.

This next phase in my art career, taking the work from private practice into public sphere, is a job that is mostly on me, and the people with whom I am building relationships.  For once, I feel responsible for whatever happens next.  I can’t pretend to know what that will look like any more than I could understand my own reality five years ago, except that what seems impossible right now will probably already have happened by 2029, and not by accident - by endless practice.  This pattern is clear, and humorous.  I laugh thinking of the absurdity and circumstance of the last five years, knowing full well the five to come will offer overflowing baskets of challenge and fruit.

There have been insightful and powerful responses to these emails.  I am grateful for the conversation about art to be less one-sided than it has been, to have people reaching out for whatever reason, especially to ask questions.

Be In Touch,

David

—-

Thus concludes “Opportunities, Part 5 of 5:  Rub a Pug’s Ears”, the final part of the “Opportunities” Series.  You can read parts 1-4 and many more writings on the Newsletter Archives section of my website, here.

As ever, if you haven’t already, sign up for email newsletters on my website, forward this to someone you think would enjoy it, and encourage them to sign up as well.