Why make anything?
notes on a creative practice and why the practice IS the gift and why YOU should make something
This is the first part of a series on the creative practice…
It’s been nearly told to death at this point, the story of how Vincent Van Gogh never sold a painting despite the otherworldly beauty of his works and despite his own brother being an art dealer. Over told as it is, I still find the story compelling, how this most beloved artist whose work is enshrined in museums and sells for unfathomable amounts of money couldn’t even give away his work in his own lifetime, even having his own art dealing brother as a benefactor. It’s all hilarious and tragic and beautiful but the story itself wound up turning Van Gogh into a sort of Patron Saint of Tortured Artists, which is a real shame. Believing the myth of the tortured artist or the idea that your creative work needs to be for a specfic audience are both terribly unhelpful ways of going about creating.
Here’s a quote from filmmaker and “art life enthusiast” David Lynch that gets at what I’ll be getting at.
“I don't think it was pain that made [Vincent Van Gogh] great - I think his painting brought him whatever happiness he had.”
“…his painting brought him whatever happiness he had.” I like David’s take on the matter, and I’d even bring what he said to a more general conclusion by suggesting that the creation of art is always a gift to the artist or that the creative practice is the gift for the artist.
Creating is work, and it’s often tedious, and at times downright difficult, but it’s still much more than that. I’ll be bold for just a moment. In my own rambling estimation, the creative practice is also: participating in the constant and mysterious gift of creation, a reason to magnify beauty, having the means to work out the seemingly inexpressible, break apart the immovable, and make known the ineffable. This same creative practice is something for everybody, not just the tortured soul, or fine arts major, or local poet/songwriter.
Being an artist (or musician, or writer, or poet, or sculptor, or dancer, or quilter) is not something to bet your life on or sell your soul for. In other words, I don’t think it’s anything to be “successful” at any farther than simply doing the creating. Obviously, social media, the confluence of art and commerce, and culture at large would disagree, but I have to believe that the purpose of creating is much simpler and more innocent than that. I don’t want to get it backwards. I don’t want to forget that creating is a gift.
Children, as innocent as any of us come, are some the best creators we have, and I believe that wholeheartedly. (God bless ‘em. They’re not creating for a digital platform, or for views, or likes, or an attention economy.) The technical skill may not be developed but the uninhibited and egoless expression is unparalleled. A child creates in a way that suggests they were simply made to create. We create because it’s a part of us and a part of how we live and understand and feel and participate.
I could look at Helen Frankenthaler paintings all day. I’ve been reduced to tears looking at digitized versions of Frankenthaler canvases on a computer screen. I feel similar wonder, awe, and emotion looking at my own son’s paintings. Either way, I’m looking at life moving and creation creating in equally unique ways. The gift of the artist (the creating) becomes the gift of whoever is fortunate enough to receive the art, whether it’s made by a three-year-old or a winner of the National Medal of Arts.
So, after evoking Van Gogh, Lynch, Frankenthaler, and one of my own children, maybe what I’m saying is just go and make something. It’s for you to do, and it’s your own gift to recieve, and maybe it’ll become someone elses gift to recieve.
Here’s a question or two or three for you to wrap things up. You can comment your answers below and I know there a few of you who actually read this every week so don’t be shy.
What are you working on?
What would you like to be working on but haven’t started? (No work is too big or small.)
What does your creative practice look like? (I actually really want to know.)
For me, I’m working on these once a week substack posts, demoing new songs at home (slowly, laboriously), tepidly stepping into more visual art ideas, and playing guitar and songwriting basically all the time (I can’t get away from this one).
Hey, Josh here. Thanks for reading this. If you enjoy this page, feel free to subscribe with your email, or share it with a friend. I’ll be here every week so don’t be shy and feel free to say hi.