Who Is An Artist?
Who decides? What do they need to consider?
When my son was in kindergarten, art was his favourite subject. Really, he’d been interested in it before then, but often his artwork had been heavily assisted by either me or his pre-school teachers because it was usually going to end up being a gift for a grandparent.
Then when he started attending the “big” school, I’d pull out sheets and sheets of crumpled artwork from his tiny backpack each day. While there were more drawings and paintings making their way home, he’d also made a pinch pot and a few other abstract items out of clay. There were numerous sculptures made out of cardboard and plastic containers destined for our recycling bins. And he continually created wild paraphernalia out of his increasing supply of Lego.
I was embarrassed at the time, but now I say a silent “aww” to myself when I think back to the scribbled-on piece of paper and orange crayon that my little four-year-old slipped into my dad’s birthday present one year. When my dad lifted it up and asked “what’s this?” I quickly frowned and said, “I think it’s garbage that [my son] must have snuck into the package”. And that’s when my kid very quietly, but adamantly declared that it wasn’t garbage, rather his present to Pappy (pronounced paw-pee).
Since my kid was really enjoying art, I wanted to encourage him in a way that has been modelled to me by other parents in our neighbourhood. That meant he needed to be in some sort of extracurricular art class ASAP. I was a new-ish mom, trying not to be the odd-mom out and I was feeling pressured to have him in after-school activities. Simply because most parents I knew at the time had their kids in at least two classes per week after school when I just took mine to the park every day.
But now that it was clear he had an actual interest in something, this was my chance!
So I say to him “Hey, how about we find some art classes for you to take so you can learn how to be an artist?”
I was feeling pretty proud that I’d finally figured out what he could do and like I’d finally be awarded the imaginary “best mom ever” badge that I so desperately craved.
But when I looked into his little confused face, my stomach dropped.
He didn’t respond. And in that awkward space, I asked “what’s wrong?”
Still looking confused he said, “But I’m already an artist.” And he went back to drawing.
He’s almost ten years old now and there have been many times that he’s left me speechless.
And this was clearly one of those times.
I didn’t know what to say.
Millions of thoughts were running through my head. At first, I wanted to clarify what I meant, because he obviously didn’t understand.
Then I wanted to agree with him but explain that an art teacher could help him be a better artist.
I even found myself thinking the ridiculous thought that I should have just signed him up and forced him to go to an art class.
But then I remember my own childhood love of art and what came from it. I was forced to draw a lot of birthday cards I didn’t want to. Create drawings from the ideas the adults in my life told me they wanted and make several revisions because I wasn’t doing it right. And I had many art teachers who only liked my work if they thought it was pretty.
I ended up rejecting my acceptance into an arts high school that I had worked hard to get into and would only study art history (which was mainly about white men) in university because I didn’t believe that I was talented or creative enough to make art anymore.
Thankfully, I came to my senses and looked him right in the eyes and said:
“You’re right, you already are an artist.”
He was making art. Therefore he’s an artist. And based on my own experience, I know that there are plenty of people out in the world that may tell him otherwise.
I’m not going to be one of those people.
Dear reader, if you’re ever having doubts about whether or not you’re an artist. Let me remind you that you already are.
You may also find this list by Jerry Salz on how to be an artist helpful too. Lessons 21, 29, 31 and 32 are my favourites.