I have been reflecting on my own life, and close friends that are artists or at the very least, highly creative. It seems to me that there is an underlying solitary nature that is integral, and part of the heart of an artist. There is a separateness, perhaps that of observation, but also the ability to appreciate and almost become part of your surroundings, whether that be a location, in a natural surrounding, or even amongst people on a busy street. It is a respect that you are different than they are, you are each something unique, yet there is a sameness that ties you together in relationship that you cannot break.
I think the sensitivity of artists forces them to separate and to reflect. The barrage of information perhaps overwhelming when you naturally like to observe, dissect, analyze, understand what you see. I think if I did not pull back, I would not be able to cope because there is just too much information.
However, there is also an appreciation that accepts things the way they are an sees beauty in all things. That beauty may be a sense or feeling, or it might be a certain line or the way light reflects, or it could be the story that you see in the eyes of the one you are keenly observing. Appreciating the life that has been led, appreciating what has brought them to that place.
Like a changing garden, seasons and years bring growth, hibernation, pruning, blossoming, division, new growth, mutation, possibility, harshness, death, overwork, over pruning, overgrowth, weeds, unprotected tender shoots never reaching potential, old things needing to be cut down, disease, pestilence, water, dehydration…a constantly changing barrage of days that bring both good and bad, growth and death. Still, that garden continues to live in most instances, but I guess even then it has been with the help of a caring gardener helping it along.
The job of the artist in every situation is the recording of those things, both inward and out that are observed, reflected on, expressed, not forgotten, not hidden, but in a vulnerable place, often bared for the world to see, somewhat like a mirror, reflecting back little pieces of each of us so that we too reflect, pause, appreciate, remember…feel.
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