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Dream. Pursue. Endure.
Amy Wendland, professor of Art & Design, ponders how to be an artist.
By Amy Wendland, professor of Art & Design
“But you can’t be an artist!” my father said. “I know you won some ribbons at the high school art fair, but it’s genetically impossible that you have any talent,” he continued with his inexorable logic. He was right: I come from a family of scientists, journalists, and doctors, not a painter or sculptor in the lot. Nonetheless, here I am, a lifelong artist and professor of Art & Design at Fort Lewis College. And I still don’t think I have any talent. I have something better: desire, curiosity, and persistence.
Vanitas - Thistle in Fancy Dress is a graphite work produced by Wendland in 2010. The vanitas (Latin for "vanity") genre challenges viewers to focus on eternal concerns rather than ephemeral pleasures. "There's a certain elegance in the sway of the thistle's neck, the splay of her leaves that belies her status as a hated invasive weed," wrote Wendland.
These are the very qualities I seek to encourage in my students, whether they intend to become artists or not.
Desire
There’s a lot of mystery around art. Does genius touch only the chosen few? Why are some artists successful while others languish in obscurity? This zero-sum-game approach to art implies that some artists “have it” and the rest of us “don’t.” In fact, I think the real gift is desire.
Desire is the uncomfortable lump of rock buried deep inside you, the uncut gem that needs to be faceted and polished until it shines. Desire gives you the audacity to begin, to create something despite feeling uncertain, inept, and scared. Desire urges you on through repeated setbacks and frustration, which ends up being its own gift. Frustration slows you down and makes you listen to the quiet but insistent voice of desire whispering your unique story, the story of your art.
Curiosity
Curiosity is a deceptively benign word meaning mild interest that leads to half-hearted inquiry. Curiosity is more like entering the labyrinth without a ball of thread marking your path, knowing full well that you might turn a corner and stumble upon a minotaur. Curiosity propels you forward. Curiosity makes artists lifelong students, unlearning old habits, questioning preconceptions, and exploring long-familiar disciplines in new ways.
"Curiosity makes artists lifelong students, unlearning old habits, questioning preconceptions, and exploring long-familiar disciplines in new ways. "
Curiosity leads to learning, and learning, most generously, leads to creativity. Nobel Prize-winning author Doris Lessing said, “[Learning is when] you suddenly understand something you’ve understood all your life, but in a new way.” This theory embodies the transformative power of art. Art can unmask the familiar, familiarize the unknown, mock hatred, inflame prejudice, expose inequity, vilify, or deify. Art is powerful. Curious, isn’t it?
Persistence
Now, that is all very romantic. But let’s get practical. How will you put food on the table if you sit around listening to the muse all the time?
Most artists I know started their careers working day jobs for health insurance and a thin layer of financial security. They listened to the muse while making the bed, emptying the dishwasher, and filling the car with gas. And they kept making art, even when they were tired and uninspired, and no one was interested in seeing what they were making.
"The successful artists I know have all succeeded simply because they didn’t quit."
Dismal as this sounds, only artists know the addictive and solitary pleasures of creative work–the breakthroughs, the heartbreaking but occasionally hilarious failures, and the satisfaction of small, well-crafted sentences or visual turns of phrase. The successful artists I know have all succeeded simply because they didn’t quit.
Eventually, my father consented, and off to art school I went. I was nervous, excited, filled with unfocused dreams, and scared I might fail. Just like the students I have the privilege of teaching every day. Reflecting on the conversation about science, art, and talent, I searched “attributes of a good scientist.” According to multiple lists, a good scientist is observant, open-minded, and a detail-oriented problem solver. A good scientist is defined as being curious, creative, and persistent. Sounds like a formula for a successful career in the arts.