“Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy.”
— Anne Frank
I realized, recently, that I have a lot to say. Oftentimes, I’m able to tell the world with my paintings, but sometimes I really do need words and I’ve never been good at keeping a diary. Then I remembered, I have a blog! What a perfect place to put my musings on art, life or whatever and hopefully start a conversation. Something to look back on later, a way for others to get a peek into my mind/process or maybe even help some other young artist who feels alone.
So here goes.
Let me start with a story. A few years ago, I was studying art and architecture in northern Italy. We were staying at this hotel in the middle of nowhere right outside Verona, so there was no exploring after the day’s studying was done. Luckily we made friends with the employees at the hotel and when a few of them finished their shift, a bunch of us sat around on the front steps of the hotel, drinking wine and talking. I was talking with some guy about what we saw in our futures. He wanted to go into finance and move to London. I told him, “I want to be an artist.” He narrowed his eyes at me and said, “No. You are too happy to be an artist.”
This is something I get from time to time. Apparently, as an artist, I am supposed to be shut-up in my studio, with black curtains blocking the sunlight, painting with a mixture of acrylics and tears. This misconception really doesn’t help artists or viewers of art. I’ve known artists who have ended perfectly good and healthy relationships because they felt ‘too happy’ and looking at only sad, depressing, or melancholy artwork doesn’t make me want to hop on over to the art museum.
Being happy and being an artist are not mutually exclusive identities. In fact, my happiness inspires my art and drives it. In other words, painting makes me happy. My art is a celebration of life and the things that bring me joy and wonder. Yes, there are times when I’m feeling down and sometimes that shows in my work too, but to think that the only valid emotion an artist can feel is sadness really minimizes the breadth of expressible human emotion. Don’t you think?
As my Italian, conversation partner found out, I will not be put into that tiny box of misconceptions. “Okay, then I will be ‘the happy artist,'” I told him. After all, there already was a Van Gogh, and Picasso already had his blue period. It wouldn’t be genuine for me to go that route anyway. Out of the myriad of emotions I can choose to feel today, I choose HAPPY.