The Artist's Greatest Ally.
It's Been In Front Of Us This Whole Time
The happiest moments of my life often veil themselves like the lightest, so ephemeral in their nature that they slip away into the realm of memory without much effort. So light they appear to me in fact, that without conscious attention to the present moment, it’s almost as if they escape my notice completely.
It’s much like the smoke-like, easy-to-miss choice we make when walking in the rain. As we dodge glassy puddles under cloud-bursting spit there comes a transitory crossroad we arrive at in our mind.
One road validates our supreme discomfort, submission to the dreaded— I don’t want to get wet— causes hunched shoulders and a wincing facial expression. The other road confirms a looser, freer mindset, one which says, I’ll embrace getting wet, and which allows us to notice the beauty that exists beyond our inner discomfort.
You stand there and pay close attention to the private corner of a public forest as if every crook conceals hidden pearls. You halt in torrential downpours so as to gather the wealth which assembles itself in front of you during a time when most people shy away to cosier confines and sheltered enclosures. You lay down on the soil and level your eyes to a pond to watch mini-demolitions explode on its surface, an observer to a hidden feast where maddened droplet-dancers jump up and down to the sound of invisible drums. You look to a lover during a particularly heavy outburst and watch as their hair blows in the wind, single strands slicing your view of familiar, lovable eyes. You may notice, much later, when your lover is asleep, cosy and warm under heavy blankets, eyelashes, long-black-sharp-hairs entangled over one another, like barbed wire from up close, whetted guards to private beauty.
All this beauty revealed by surrender to what is, allows us to actually look up and see the world for what it provides. Oscar Wilde says that “no great artist ever sees things as they really are. If they did, they would cease to be an artist.” Perhaps this is true, not only of artists but of every human soul who constructs their point of view from their lived experience. What Wilde suggests, is that the most valuable thing an artist possesses is their point of view, their way of seeing the world, their way of showing up, in it.
We fail to notice the world, and therefore, to construct our point of view of it without stillness. Stillness is the ultimate teacher to the aspiring artist serious about pursuing transcendent expression, and it begins with observation. To be a proficient artist means mastering the art of observation, which goes beyond the visual, and pertains to the amalgamation of all senses, perceptions, surfaces and subjectiveness. The most challenging form of observation is observation of the self.
French philosopher Blaise Pascal says, “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” Indiscriminate from power, fame, wealth or resources, sitting still with oneself alone remains one of the most challenging acts a person can undertake. It’s free, it’s simple, yet it’s not easy. Doing so means access to the ever-valuable sensation of clarity.
To become one with the air around you and disconnect from the ego, urges and desires is a return to the fountains of youth, a relaxing exhale, like a raindrop returning to the ocean. So why is it so difficult to maintain, and how can we ensure a practice which encourages us to return to the ashram of our inner kingdom?
To some extent, it means renouncing the custom of ‘the culture,’ anything we’ve ever heard about what it means to be an artist, ignoring, forgetting, the boundaries of the definition of our practice, even this article itself. The ‘Art Life’ is surrounded by great romanticism, a cultural infatuation with the idea of being an artist. From an inauthentic place, this is an extension of hyper-obsession with the self. We like the idea that people would and should care about how we see the world. Yet at a large scale, beyond our family and friends, this is only true if there is merit in the expression which packages our point of view. This requires mastery of craft and a point of view.
Oftentimes, the cultural infatuation with the idea of being an artist encourages dillydallying; a justification for ‘side-quests’ like taking drugs, travelling aimlessly and wandering generally, cloaks itself like productive experiences to the aspiring artist. Wasted time becomes an easy scapegoat for inactivity; aimlessness is a slippery slope. Drugs are no preamble to a unique point of view, observation is. Infatuation with being an artist distracts us from actually practising making art.
By delving into the world of stillness, discipline is required. Mike Tyson says that ‘discipline is doing what you hate to do, but do it like you love it.’ In other words, we must practice our craft, even when we do not want to, with the same veracity as someone overcome by a passionate urge. If you only sit down to search for moments of stillness during fleeting bouts of inner inspiration, how can you ever expect to attract all that you are capable of? A disciplined practice means carving out time in your day to experience stillness, observe the world as it lies in front of you, and translate this into creative expression. This can be hard, yet with little effort, it reveals itself to you.
“The moment one gives close attention to any thing, even a blade of grass it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself.”
— Henry Miller.
To be an artist means to show up for your art. Every. Single. Day.
This doesn’t mean one must wring out every drop of energy every moment, yet a practice must be put in place which allows us to remain familiar with stillness. Some of my most productive days of art practice have been spent in stillness, soaking up the summer sun, sea water dripping off my skin, a book nearby, listening to the lullaby of sandy steps and falling waves on a lazy beach. Not a single bit of ‘real work’ got done on days like such, yet new and old ideas bubbled up in my subconscious like a slow cooker in a kitchen.
Developing a daily practice means remaining in constant intimacy with your creative voice. Sometimes this requires space to soak in the world, and other times it requires attention to the work itself. Each and every time, the answer is found in stillness.
Don’t have enough ideas? Turn to stillness. Aren’t inspired enough? Turn to stillness. Can’t get a single brushstroke onto the canvas without hearing the inner critic clear its throat for another belligerent lecture? Turn, to stillness.
Stillness is free, no paid subscription required. Yet every great piece of art has been born from its expansive surface. So I say, breathe in the elusive, explore the ephemeral, and look at the world through all your senses as if it is the most special place in the universe. Perhaps only then, it will reveal itself to you as everything that it is, and everything that it can be.
Thank you for reading Bluezone.
Bluezone — { Philosophical Musings On Artistic Pursuit }
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A truly necessary reflection. Thank you for this, it is a useful reminder for everyone caught up in modern over-stimulation.
Agreed on so many of the fine points you make.