A common question always heard, “Where is art born?”
Depends on what you accept as art. In some circles art is nature at its best while others label the presentation of pictures on a canvas as the only true shape of art. I’ve met only one man named Art and he was anything but artful, but then again that’s an opinion from the outside—Art might have been extremely art filled…in his own way, shape and nearly out of place form.
Art is what you make out of life. Art can be the bump on a log your parents accused you of being. Art is anger, a dream, escape and expression set free from that inner place some call a soul, corner of the world, voice in the head and heart or just you being you without having to offer an ounce of judgment.
I’m often accused of being creative or talented.
That’s an incredibly quick way to get on my bad side. I am not a label. Labels do one thing…they invite people to steal your art—to walk into your circle and take so that they may benefit. Quick! Raise your arms and protect the face…you’re about to be hit by words that say, “I would’ve done this or hey if you do it this way…this will happen.”
Suddenly your art now has a parent and it becomes your new job to adopt them…and all you ever wanted to do was release or you’re going to explode. Study the way of comedian’s, truly listen to their tortured stories—the only reason why you laugh is because you can relate.
When you move people you give life to art.
Going to work everyday…your job pays you for your art. Even if you’re building burgers, the act of doing so is art. My father was a professional welder, what he could do with that eye blinding flash of light totally blew me away. He was willing to scald his eyes during a process of using his hands and imagination to better the life of someone who required steel.
Wait! Before I go on…I’m not being dark today! It is my goal to add light to a subject most know about but refuse to seek their own vision and I blame that on art teachers who push acrylic paints and watercolor pencils rather than tap into the very energy that makes a human trust their ability to create. Without support, it becomes natural to hide making beer lovers and abusers out of people who wanted to do nothing more than to get it out.
Social networking is a valuable tool on the steps of releasing what fills us up. Taylor Swift, Justin Bieber and the new lead vocalist of Boston put their art on the World Wide Web and the human race began to follow. Benjamin Franklyn was a word artist…social circles call him our nations first blogger. He wrote daily and didn’t require a newspaper, magazine or bookstore to get his art out.
If you spend time with Peter Max he has no problem telling you his art is crafted by the makers of the universe to which he studies like Galileo. Paul Stanley from KISS is currently enjoying an extremely successful path lit up by a desire to hold a brush; his works are selling for thousands. Ask him how it began and he’ll stop you midsentence if you blame it on the band. Music had nothing to do with it…Paul hit a major mountain during a nasty divorce and slamming paint onto a surface created an echo that allows a total unknown to step out from their personal worries and locate peace.
To be alive means your only job is to be an artist. Create to create. Build to build. Master nothing because being great at only one thing stalls personal growth. To stop gives birth to silence not art.
Johnny Resnick from the Goo Goo Dolls once said to me, “Artist block is when you look at everything you’re doing and you think it sucks. The moment you let it go and stop being harsh on the maker is when art begins to happen again.”
Why do so many ignore their ability to be unique? Artist robbery. Ideas are stolen everyday. Coworkers, family members, the neighbor…we live in the most productive part of the world because our elders cleared the way for art to be lifted. If you’ve got something others want it becomes their mission to beg, borrow and steal your craft so their path can be lit up like Vegas.
And yet I constantly end most of my writing with these words: Steal my art.
All that is materialistic won’t make it into the final box you spend a lifetime searching for. The experiences you carry become the art which have the strength to last longer than a gut full of gas—let it explode and teach a willing listener how to reach up, out and through the mountains we see but can never figure out how to move them.
It doesn’t require talent to be creative and creativity is nothing more than air moving through you. By admitting that I am neither talented nor creative convinces the inner places we run to come this direction. Through my eyes, fingers, voice and nose filled with snot there is sight and sound and it’s within its presentation art is born.
Highway makers are artists. Skyscraper designers, chefs in a rich person restaurant to fry cooks at Willie’s Eatery are artists. My mother trying to bait a fishing hook…would’ve loved to have filmed that…somewhere on this trail such a display is going to be required in the days when life throws our dreams, ambitions and desires to the other side of the white picket fence.
If it seems I got dark today…look beyond the surface of Crayons and bubble plastic. Sometime this weekend you’re going to stop…you’ll embarrassing look around to see if anyone caught you in the act of being you. Taking a single step forward makes you an artist. You let it go and its now up to the wind to carry your presence to areas of the valley you’ll never visit but your art will grow.
Be you always. No matter how bad it hurts when people steal from you and deny they ever did it. Be you…there’s always new art to be born.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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