Generous people sometimes call me an artist
but I have always rejected that descriptor. I think of myself as an
entrepreneur (who chose to work in the arts).
I believe I am an entrepreneur because I
love problem solving and detest routine. But without a doubt, being my own boss
was my primary motivation. I had jobs with bosses in my twenties but for most
of my life the commerce of my adult life was built around the exploitation of
my skill with (technical) writing that could be done at home.
An entrepreneur makes far more money than
an artist. And thank God for that because I had bills to pay and never enjoyed
parental financial largess; nor did I have a partner.
But I am a creative person: Besides
writing, I’ve designed public spaces, a game, costumes and sets. I am very
comfortable calling myself a creative person but, as I say, I have never liked
nor used the term artist to describe myself.
Young artists create to earn respect, fame
and/or money. I never did that. To be truthful, I came to the arts because I
was a closeted homosexual in 1970 when I graduated from college. I’d made a
mistake becoming a high-school drama teacher so I fled to join an emerging
theatre company. I didn’t want to be an artist; I just wanted to make my living
being part of a “safe” accepting community.
Artists are driven by curiosity. They experiment
and the best of them advance our appreciation and understanding of their technique,
subject or scale. As a consequence of their work, they inherit their reputation
and, optionally, financial return. A great
artist is what all artists want to be.
Great artists are obsessive; their work
holds primacy in their life. If we call great artists “A” artists, the rest of
us are B artists. For every A artist there are hundreds of thousands of
competent, talented, hard-working, professionally oriented B artists. For B
artists, love, money (me), fame and/or comfort are primal.
Healthy B artists understand and accept
their status. I am in that camp; as I have said, I thought of myself as an entrepreneur
whilst working. My pride as a B-level artist lay in the integrity with which I
conducted myself and did my work.
There’s another reason I don’t call myself
an artist: The word has no meaning. A lot of people wan to be artists but I
reserve use of the term only for professionals because I believe in standards.
Artists earn their title from objective
sources: critics, producers, publishers, unions, juries, etcetera; you cannot
designate yourself an artist. Allowing anyone to self-title themselves as
artists demeans the title when it is applied to hard-working career-oriented
professionals and I won’t have that. I idolize artistry and reserve the right
to the title for the deserving.
If you call yourself a doctor and you do
not have an M.D. or PhD, what are you if not a liar? It’s a crime to practice
medicine without certification. Or engineering, or dentistry, or teaching in
accredited schools. Every profession has standards. So should artistry.
I respect all artists, good and bad, A and
B. They am truly passionate about “my people” no matter where I find them —
from auditoria to galleries, gardens and kitchens. I admire everyone who lives
creatively. But I also recognize that in every field of human activity there
are varying degrees of capacity.
