Creating art is an act of courage. Art says, "Here is my soul. Have a look." Simultaneously, one of the most freeing mindsets is that of an artist in a state of unfettered creation. Thought becomes action, intuition into invention, the ethereal made corporeal. It both satisfies the entreprenuer's instinct to work, to craft and sweat, and the philosopher's desire to think, ponder, and reflect.
Despite this, a relationship with art easily becomes burdensome. A sacrifice of time, practicality, even mental stability. Something that is therapeutic, even a way to transcend our daily worries, or indeed express esoteric ideas, can double as the very fodder for the sorts of thoughts which weigh us down. How is it possible that the Gates of Heaven also act as a picket fence in need of mending in our own backyard?
This is why art is a flexible word, something which can be invoked at the drop of a hat to describe everything from the most mundane, ritualistic actions to unbelievably masterful, talented expressions. Unlike many overused phrases, I don’t believe this is a poor word choice in either respect.
A sushi chef crafts a story of tradition into a meticulously prepared dish. Yet its very being blends into its surroundings, consumed in a moment. You could argue that it is prepared to be forgotten. This is art. An acrobat can practice for two decades to execute a complex display of physical prowess. This could be demonstrated in the sum of two minutes, yet it is a shattering declaration of pain and accomplishment. This is art. A therapist may become familiar with the precise inflection which allows their patient to feel safe in exploring painful memories aloud. This, too, is art
Is it a highbrow to stand firmly and say that art cannot be consigned to craft, brush, note, or the written word? I don’t believe so. “She’s an artist with a sword,” and, “I suppose you could say this is my art,” are phrases we aren’t surprised to hear when discussing the object of an individual’s passion. Indeed, it is not what they do rather how they do it which summons up this notion.
Can it be defined? This question can be answered by the parallel of art's limitless mediums. It can be defined, but unlike certain words in the English language, the number of definitions that will fit its purpose may be staggering.
This leads us to the artist. The creative. The individual. Why is it that some experiences with another person can leave us inspiration or tearful, much in the same way a profound piece of music might? We are so used to admiring the craft behind portraiture that we forget that the overall purpose of portraits is to capture its subject: the individual. Why? Because the individual as a concept is extraordinary in it of itself, and worthy of depiction. We’ve arrived at something of a mirror.
So much energy is spent in romanticising the mastery of a particular craft that we lose sight of something truly beautiful happening all the while. What happens behind the entire process of one’s creative career. Just as much as the artist was shaping their art, perfecting their style, honing in on their voice, all the while, the art was shaping them as individuals. Refining their senses, solidifying their philosophies, prodding at their personality.
This begs the previous question, the relationship between art and artist, craft and execution. Can art be defined?
It can, and I will offer one definition here. It's you.
