What we give life to

I am not often in the position to have a guest, but I was graced by one not long ago.  In talking about children and art, his message was “With art you can create something that expresses what you intend, but kids have a life of their own, and will do what they want; despite what we might want them to do.”

I thought it interesting that he volunteered this, as I have been forming a different opinion of art:  Art is like a child: it exists entirely outside of it’s creator.  It is subject to the perceptions of everyone who views it.  It might gain a different character with time.  If someone with a very different frame of reference beholds it it they may perceive it in a way wholly unintended by it’s creator.  The only difference I see between children and art is that art has no influence over it’s own direction, and perhaps no sense of it’s path at all.

Though I still have no idea what Art is, I recognize now that anyone can create art.  I didn’t realize this until well down the trail; I thought one had to be trained, practiced, perhaps talented.  As I became a bit braver, I recall myself creating art without realizing it: that thing I made for a utilitarian purpose had some care and some love in it that was all mine, some influence gathered from who-knows-where, and uniqueness in it’s design and origin.

Forks straight from a factory are all perfect; they are all shiny, a nice thin handle, tines which are all uniform, and each one just like the last.  With that I have realized that perfect has no place when describing art.  I might forge a leaf and be fully aware of “flaws” but another may look at that leaf in it’s entirety and see only beauty, inspiration, or a chunk of metal poorly mimicking a form which took nature eons to create; they may see all or none of this, or more.  Others may put it on a pedestal, melt it down for scrap, burn it in effigy, burn it in in hatred, use it as currency, steal it and claim it as their own, use it as a symbol to represent something, ad-infinitum.  Our art may well outlive us and our own little story which inspired it’s creation, and like a huge stone head unearthed from another age, the deeply learned my make their livelihood trying to piece together the intent of the creator. As soon as we put brush to paper, chisel to wood, draft those plans; we give life to something outside of the self.