I like to think that I am an artist. Yet, I am not concerned with how pretty a piece turns out, or how much money I can make off selling it. What I care about is the emotions that I leave on the page. Recently, I have run into trouble with the amount of emotions I am revealing, or the amount of emotions behind my illustration. I am not having issues because I am struggling with how to visually execute my ideas and feelings, but because I have not yet figured out how to discuss my art with others without the viewer feeling uncomfortable. And this is a problem.
The problem is that artists feel obligated to make what is pretty. Pretty images put the viewers at ease. It allows the viewer to make a snap judgment, purely based on the visual stimulus. The viewer thinks, “Oh, those colors are nice. I like this,” or “This painting looks like my tree at home. I feel at peace.” Although pretty pictures help ease the viewer, they also force the viewer to completely miss the point of art. Art is about the process, the thoughts underlying the executions.
At a recent artist showcase in Seattle, I presented illustrations that carry a ridiculous amount of emotional baggage for me. Each illustration is representative of anxieties I feel, or the depression that creeps in when I feel out of control. All I wanted viewers to do was just stop, look, and feel. I like to think that each illustration I do is a different emotional experience.
Yet, I found that not many people were able to just stand and observe for a long period. I found myself watching couples look at the drawings, give a polite smile, and continue on their way. These couples and individuals, whom I like to refer to as “the skimmers” seemed unwilling and uninterested to really absorb and reflect on how a piece of art made them feel. They are the ones that only want to see fun and free watercolors. They limit themselves to whimsical drawings of kids laughing and smiling.
Image: www.facebook.com/vkongArt
Image: I am writing this article for those that stopped. For the people that took a pause, and really processed how a piece made them feel. I can see when a person registers the emotions hidden behind the paper and the ink. There is a “click” in the eyes, followed by sadness, or confusion. I like to watch as the brow furrows, the lips tense up. Like I said, these pieces are emotional experiences. And then, as the confusion, or intrigue, sets in, the viewer turns to me. The first question is always, “what is this one about”. And here is why artistic conversation is important.
I always run into the problem of figuring out how to approach this loaded question. There is so much in a piece of art for me that I am unsure of how to start. I can’t jump right into, “Oh this? This piece is about death.” Art demands a narrative. But when that narrative deals with death, depression, or topics that make others uncomfortable, it puts the artist in a position where he must decide how to approach the conversation.
It would be just as easy to say, “Oh this? This piece is about the circle of life, and how we’re all united.” I am not positing that a circle of life concept is less valid than others, but I am saying that discussing the circle of life puts a viewer much more at ease than a piece about death. I feel a conflict of interest; I must decide between making up a superficial explanation for the inspiration behind the piece, or being genuine and truthful about the real background of a piece.
Overall, however, I think I prefer the genuine answer. What is the point of showing my art to others if I cannot be honest and transparent about it? I am done with the uncomfortable silences when I reveal the thoughts and inspiration behind a piece to a viewer. This article is a call to action. Don't be a skimmer. Don't fall silent. Remember that art is about the emotions, the experience, and the thoughts. Be ready to feel.
