The Man Under the Light Post

There is an anecdote about a man, down on his hands and knees under a light post.  A policeman comes along and asks, "What are you looking for?"
"My car keys," the man replies.
The policeman helps the man search for several minutes to no avail.  Finally he asks the man, "Are you sure you lost them here?"
"Oh no," the man replies.  "I lost them over there," he says, pointing to a far, dark corner of the parking lot.
"Then why are you looking over here?" the policeman asks.
"Because this is where the light is," the man replies.

And it is so true.  We spend a lot of time looking for answers in the light because it is easier to look there; less frightening.  But so often, new and innovative solutions cannot be found in the light.  To find them, we must go into the dark, so to speak.  Venture out where there is no map, no course guide, no light to help us find the way.  And that is exactly what making art is all about.  It is about facing the blank canvas.  It is about venturing out in the dark, with no rules or maps laid in front of you.  And so, when something important materializes on that blank canvas, the artist is sometimes considered extraordinary.  But art is not made by extraordinary people.  To paraphrase Bayles and Orland, extraordinary people wouldn't need to make art.  Art is made by ordinary people. 

Those of us who make art know that often when the last brushstroke is done, or the last word written, we look back and wonder "wow, how did that happen?" as if we had nothing to do with it....as if art is somehow swirling around in the ether waiting for someone to bravely walk into the dark and offer themselves as an agent of expressing it.  But, of course, "it" chooses us because we first chose to pick up the brush, to put the pen to paper, to try the notes on the piano.  "It" chooses us because we choose to walk into the dark and be lost for awhile and trust that something new and worthwhile will find us.


 

Art-ovation

About ten years ago, I was very fortunate to be able to take a hiatus from working and make art on a full-time basis.  For four and a half wonderful years, I had a commercial studio, I painted and I taught lessons.  During that time, a wonderful friend of mine used to periodically call me and ask if I was ready to "stop basket weaving and get a real job".  I always took it as the good natured ribbing it was intended to be, but in fact, eventually took his advice.  And for eight years after that, I kept my art and my career in business separate.  In fact, it is sort of a given thing that art making and business don't mix.  Artists have a reputation for being notoriously bad at business and businesses have no time for something as frivolous as art.  There are a few exceptions, of course.  Thomas Kinkade, who turned his art into a super brand, although, many artists then expelled him from the ranks of fine art....doubt he cares, though, he's laughing all the way to the bank and spends his life making his art.  Sounds good to me.

And so recently, I became very curious why we think that way.  Even in education, there is uber-emphasis on math and science, to the sad exclusion of art, music and physical education.  Now people are starting to get it.  No wonder there is a childhood obesity epidemic. 

But here is a trivia question for you:  Who is considered probably the greatest innovator of all recorded history?  Even if Leonardo DaVinci isn't the first person you thought of, you almost certainly will agree he was a remarkable innovator.  DaVinci was a mathemetician, an architect, a scientist, an inventor.  But amazingly, he is also the artist who painted the two most famous paintings of all times: The Last Supper and the Mona Lisa.  DaVinci certainly had no preconceived notions that science, technology and art didn't mix.  So why do we?  In fact, maybe innovation is a product of art?  Or is it that art is a path to innovation?  Either way, I think now that the two belong together; that they are somehow inextricably bound and that we not only can combine business innovation with art, but that we should.