On Being Grateful
Art Philosophy
Those who have ever attended an event of mine have probably heard me speak on the importance of art, its inherent purpose, and my belief in its ability to enact tangible change. I tend to make a point of this since I often find myself talking to other artists who express to me how difficult it is for them to create in a world that can feel like it’s falling apart. They tell me they feel as though they should be out there fighting the good fight, not parading around the stage in makeup and costume, tying themselves into knots for no greater reason than to untie them in front of an audience. But, I think we forget what good art is capable of.
What does good art do? To me, good art provides us with a kind of satiation. In the same way food quells our hunger and gives us energy, good art quells our anxiety and excites our passions. It is a satiation of the soul, giving us the hope to go on, and, if we’re lucky, it may even suggest to us ways we can concentrate our energies. Good art is inspirational, and without it the world would be an inert and unimaginative place.
I say this is what “good” art does, because “bad” art accomplishes exactly the opposite. Bad art bogs us down; it makes us anxious, fearful, and full of doubt. Bad art makes us wish we had simply stayed in bed.
“Escapist” art lies somewhere in the middle. It is a half-form of satiation: it quells the anxiety, but does not excite passion. It pacifies, but does not call to action. Doom scrolling isn’t joyful, it tends to feel like nothing at all.
What does this have to do with being grateful? “I’m so grateful to have been given this opportunity…” is a phrase I see a lot these days—often in the captions of posts announcing one’s casting in a show, or acceptance into some program of some kind—and I think this phrasing betrays a doubt poisonous to the landscape of art. What need is there to be grateful when one is serving a purpose? This would be like a carpenter who, having been commissioned to build, say, a table, jumps for joy, and assures his buyer that he won’t let him down—it’s strange, and more than a bit revealing about how the carpenter sees himself. In a world with very little space and very many who are willing, I would rather he feel as though the opportunity is earned, not given. If you can build a table, then build it, and its goodness will be inherent.
But, you say, can we not be grateful for an opportunity and believe in our usefulness? Maybe, but why give the powers that be the satisfaction? Theaters, colleges, casting and talent agencies—institutions are not run by the greatest talents with their eyes trained toward transcendence, quite the opposite in fact. Increasingly, the prerequisite for a position of power is one’s willingness to give up oneself for the cause, and, of course, money. It is good to remember that we are the commodity, and they are the ones deficient. Artists barter their souls, and all they can offer in return is financial comforts; yet we supplicate ourselves at their feet and honor their benevolence?
But, you say, how can we know the art we create is “good,” since so many artists have expressed their inability to discern their own greatness before breaking out? This, I think, is a misconception—or a misconstruing of a very real phenomenon. I find that great artists rarely doubt themselves; they more often doubt whether anyone else has the capability to understand or see their virtues. This is the great difficulty with being ahead of one’s time, which is to say that one is bringing in new and exciting ideas, rather than repeating what is already an echo. Your favorite artists believed in their ability, I assure you. Your favorite author didn’t curse every word he wrote, if he did he would never have finished the book. If you fear your work is worthless, then scrap it and start over. Our instincts tend to be right, and, if they aren’t, then we have no business being artists. I would go so far as to say it is the job of the artist to know what is good or not—that is what we call taste; whether the world “gets it” or not is for the birds.
Creators of “good” art have no reason to be grateful for an opportunity, and should find solace in knowing their work is inherently of use. Art is not a luxury, and, if it is, it is only so to those with nothing to offer.