May 6, 2001

The Tiger’s Eye
art commentary by T. Stone

and when we speak we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid.
so it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive.

From A Litany for Survival by Audre Lorde

Almost everyday I am confronted by people who call themselves ‘artists’. Naturally, this irritates the artist in me. In all of my years, I have known very few people whom I would consider to be true artists. Certainly there are many craftspeople I know. There are also those vast legions who manufacture products at home and sell them as ‘art’. You’re not an artist just because you make something by hand. But, as you know, being an ‘artist’ is sexier than being a manufacturer.

My concern here is the big question…what is an artist? And I’m not especially interested in the ‘academics’ of it…nothing bores me more than talking about art as if I were teaching a class. Consider the Taoist precept that ‘those who talk don’t know and those who know don’t talk’. I absolutely agree with that even as I prattle on.

First of all, I define the difference between ‘craft’ and ‘art’ as this: To be a craftsperson you accept the limits of your medium…you work with the medium and gain your strength by that acceptance. In ‘art’ you don’t accept anything in particular. Your interest is not so much in understanding limitations as it is in redefining understanding…stretching the boundaries. An artist should reach beyond the safe and comfortable. To guard against ever-creeping mediocrity, art should be not only seductive but also fundamentally subversive.

Let’s be honest. Humans tend to be deluded…it’s the only way we can face the finite. The world is always spinning and nothing stays the same, so we do whatever it is we can do to pretend it all makes sense. We create a god, religion, believe in a ‘hereafter’. We ‘own’ things because it gives us ‘place’ in the chaos. We look for permanence in a universe that is expanding at three thousand miles per second. In short…we maintain something we call ‘sanity’ by creating something we call ‘order’. There may be a natural order, but it is so scattered that, practically speaking, it is disorderly. There is an energy sparking off this rushing planet that ‘feeds’ us. But chaos is the condition that reminds us of our impermanence. Art, to me, should suggest this delicate dialectical condition. It should underscore our desperation and desire and find ‘comfort’ there. Admittedly, embracing the uncertainty with our brittle egos is always a dicey proposition.

A person who is an artist is committed to bridging the mundane with the mystery without concern for a definite answer. On what fine line do we balance when we creatively reflect our experience and knowledge while realizing our knowledge is not ultimately valid?

It is not so much the product as it is the creating that makes art and the artist. It is much like walking. What defines ‘walking’? Is it the one leg forward or is it the one leg back or, really, is it that blur of space in between the two? Art is a process of expressing this temporary in stasis form.

Now, if that is true, then any thoughtful person will reasonably ask, "What good is art?" Indeed, what good is it if only defined as a product that I (as an artist) can sell to you? Doesn’t that negate the rare delicacy of it? Certainly. Most ‘art’ to me has value only as a point of reference and momentary inspiration. If I don’t use the inspiration, then art is just another sterile consumer product. Art should serve as a reminder that we must avail ourselves to the void and find our transitory ‘answers’ there.

Thus the subversive nature of art. Our concept of reality needs to be subverted….we need to be tricked into opening up our minds. And, because hallucinogens are difficult to procure, art must suffice.

It’s all a passing carnival, my friend, without the comfort of control or complete understanding. We can take it or ignore it or throw a stone on its surface and watch the ripples. We can take a moment to study the blue light reflected in our lover’s eyes as the deepening shadows of night swallow us; we can make up a song for that passing moment. We can be stunned by the hopeless enormity of it all and do nothing, or we can work to fall lightly through the stars. The art is in the fall.

Return to Home Page