Unwritten Articles

One major enjoyment of writing articles about being an artist, involves drawing upon my own experiences, remembering stories and incidents to support any topic. Everything relaxes; the writing becomes natural– like I’m having a conversation with someone or telling anecdotes. It’s usually the place where I feel most at ease, know the material best– simply because I’ve lived it. Even when liberties are taken with certain details (to protect privacy )– the gist, the impact of a memory is vivid enough to recall with pleasure. However, there are some articles I cannot write. Others possess the knowledge, credentials and authority to do so because they have the experience– and I don’t. This doesn’t mean though, that I lack interest in artists whose lives are divergent from mine. On the contrary, the amount of energy, coordination and negotiation I imagine they must need and use, inspires awe and not a little curiosity. Here then, are a few unwritten articles I am unqualified to write about due to inexperience. For example, I’ve never taught art (it’s on my bucket list) and don’t know what it is like to facilitate the creative process of a student or anyone else. What are the joys, frustrations, demands and rewards of teaching something you love? Is it terrifying? Do you sacrifice time that could have been spent on your own work or do you gain so much more instead that makes you a better artist not to mention human being? I didn’t need to teach in order to support myself because I landed a decent part-time library job at a local university. Is teaching vital towards artistic growth and development? Another issue concerns being an artist and a parent, particularly for women. Although I like children, the maternal urge was never strong enough to act upon. How do artists successfully manage to work and raise children? There was a time when women could not do both. Has that changed? Are there more women who are both mothers and artists? Is it easier now? Do artists in general, currently have more resources available, that will allow them to care for a family and pursue their craft without compromising one or the other? What if the artist is a single parent? How about the dynamics, tensions and benefits of couples who are both artists? Historically, most marriages or long-term relationships that come to mind where both partners practiced art, occurred mainly in the last century. Pollack and Krasner. Willem and Elaine de Kooning. Picasso and Dora Maar and Francoise Gilot. O’keeffe and Stieglitz. Mary and Christopher Pratt. Max Ernst first with Leonara Carrington and then Dorthea Tanning. Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. In nearly every case, the male artist was the predominant figure, already established by the time he met the woman. Or else his craft developed first while she attended to the family, financial concerns, and worked quietly on the side. In this modern world, is there enough room for two people who are romantically involved, to flourish together in the same creative discipline with mutual respect and support? Or does that goal require constant, heroic effort? For many of the couples mentioned, infidelity was a big problem. What happens when one partner succeeds more, or surpasses the other? How does an artist pair cope with issues of competition, ego, and the demons and insecurities of the other? Do artists have to like, or at least respect the art or potential of the person they want to date, marry, or be otherwise involved with? Although I count men and women among my artist friends, all my short and long-term relationships consisted of men in creative fields other than my own: writing, film-making, theatre etc. Some did attempt painting but more as a secondary, casual pursuit. I never had to contend with mixed, complicated feelings if they accomplished more than I, nor did I ever feel threatened or overshadowed by their efforts. The only awkward memory I can think of as a reverse situation, occurred when a boyfriend and I both started martial arts together, and I got my yellow belt (one level up from beginners) before he did. What is it like to co-habit with another artist? The zoning allocations alone, for enough studio space to accommodate two full tanks of creative energy and their subsequent need for expression– if this happens under one roof– boggles the mind. How do they resolve different process styles and needs? One requires greater privacy and silence while the other prefers stimulants, country music and causes tornados around their work. What happens when one partner takes up more space than the other? Do artist couples inevitably influence each other’s work? Is it important to maintain a separate artistic identity? This is all very personal territory for anyone to share with others, especially those who don’t have to deal with these challenges.