An artist friend of mine, who is very talented but who elects to remain an amateur, once said to me, "Art is Play." I've never forgotten that succinctly put phrase. At its core, I believe art IS play. As children, our first experiences with a blank sheet of paper and some crayons invites our imaginations to play, with color, or with drawing. Over time, we learn technique, and with this we continue our explorations. At some point many of us head down the path of imitating the masters for the purpose of empathizing with their accomplishments, and/or learning new techniques. Some will head down the path that allows their imaginations to continue bearing fruit with unlimited images that perhaps have never before been corralled and frozen onto a page or a canvas. Learned techniques can be applied in our play, just as play can reveal new technique. I personally believe that even an accomplished high society portrait painter benefits from revisiting that childhood moment when faced with the prospect of unlimited white pages and more colors in the box than your imagination had heretofore been aware; when someone in your life arranged for an unlimited supply of large sheets of white paper, an assortment of non-toxic paints, and no applicators other than your hands and fingers. Because of our culture, and its slant toward business and profit and youth, as opposed to, say, spiritual health, honor of our elders, and raising the least among us, it is easy for us to become distracted with the bending of our creations toward that which will make money. I believe that at some point, unique to each of us, this insidious mental framework begins to release the joy from our play like a pinhole in a balloon. If we are not vigilant, we become what are called 'meat cameras', or we devolve to rendering the imaginings of others to the exclusion of our own beautiful thoughts. Although our society obviously discounts the value of art by cutting the budget for art as a first item, or haughtily defines art as a 'luxury' item, we artists understand the nature of art. We understand how art elevates us out of the primordial soup and into higher realms; how one painting hanging in your home can cause you to smile every time you pass it. Art elevates, or can, and regardless of our society I suppose it is up to us to set an example for our otherwise distracted brethren, until they also realize that life does not have to be a drudgery, that life can be balanced with something as simple as a thick pad of white paper, all the colored pens around which an opposable thumb and fingers can wrap, and one's imagination. Play might be a great warm-up for artists who are happily locked into five year's worth of commissions. Joy is our natural state, it is also our goal because we have forgotten our natural state and who we really are; we are distracted by Madison Ave. and our culture, and our understanding needs improvement. Art as Play helps.

Robert,

I agree with the joy verses material reward being and creating finer art work, but a question lingers. The most beautiful, evolved, skilled, and creative works, were done on commissions. Leonardo, Michelangelo, Pollock, Rembrandt, etc...
Not sure how to make sense of the study.

Markus, I specified, and I believe Robert's intention is, that a balance is required, not a total dedication to play. I merely believe that we need to consistently drink from the fountain of play, not that we necessarily need to adopt it as a lifestyle. Your post is insightful, and I will merely add that historically, art and culture, from dramatic plays to sculpture to paintings, and all of the most wonderful of life's elevating activities, thrives typically only after a brutal conquering and establishing, by force, of order. The egregious merchant commerce that many artists abhor, the trade routes and the bartering that commences after order is militarily established, is the foundation upon which elevating art can begin and thrive. Our greatest works of art were created during times of obedience, during times of great divides between Haves and HavesNot, after times of great brutality, and loss, during which the value of a life dropped precipitously. Only when order is established does art seem to flourish. It appears that only when commissions are available from the Haves, can artists create our greatest works. Additionally, whenever the great antebellum mansions are pointed out to me, the great family fortunes are mentioned, the huge historical estates, I think of how easy it must have been to accrue on the backs of slaves. The pyramids are great works, but again on the backs of slaves, or the destitute of Egypt. There is always a duality in this world, and it is our job to be aware of this dichotomy. Many of our 'great works' are great because the victors have always written the histories that survive. Each succeeding culture has nothing more to go on than surviving histories, thus distilling the 'greatness' to that which has survived. The more history that accumulates, the less of the surviving 'greats' that survive due to simple manageability of information. There is an infinity of perspectives.

In Daniel Pink's book Drive, he goes to considerable trouble to explain why lawyers are such an unhappy bunch. He says their problem is that they don't have much autonomy--having to stick to the law, do their client's wishes, etc. Lots of other professions would qualify for this judgment. And yes, art, on a scale of ten, is up near nine on the autonomy scale. I guess that's why everyone wants to get into art these days.

It's a bit of all-or-nothing in your article - and I'm glad that some of my joy comes from simply squeezing paint onto the palette. I just love the stuff. And then the mixing. The applying of paint has varying degrees of emotional content. From wow to oh-no!! The joy of the "happy accident" and the joy of skillfully doing it well are great perks to the basic joy of squishing paint onto something. But it is an even greater joy of satisfying my curiosity that makes me want to do the work. I'm forever curious about how that paint is going to mix with this paint, how that will look on that background, etc. And I'm curious about how Nature works re: light on all the objects of the world. I enjoy studying it; analyzing it. Getting a good painting out of all that is just a nice ending. The joy of painting is in the doing. Even commissions (and maybe especially?) can have moments of joy contained in them. If you look at the Mona Lisa, for example, it is said that Leonardo didn't like painting backgrounds so his are dull and vague. And he used his skill to do clothing and furniture. But he had a good deal of joy in accomplishing that face, that smile, which has become the focal point. He didn't love her hair all that much. Her eyes are nice. Her skin tones are lustrous. But the smile is where he found his joy. And it is where we find ours, too. I wouldn't do a commission if I didn't think I'd find joy in there somewhere. It is why you get hired in the first place.

Commission work. Interesting dialogue. I have done only one "commissioned" piece. It was a barter trade and in the style and size that I was joyfully working. I felt no less pleasure in my creativity than with other pieces in the same series. So it was simply a continuation... Question then for one and all. Is it a true commission if it comes naturally from the artist under the artists total control at the request of a buyer to fill a specific site. Or conversly must the artist bend his vision even a small degree to the buyer. Perhaps when an artist has the luxury to pick an choose his commissions both parties win. I'm considering Richard Serra right now and his unique installations.

I was asked to do a commission for an elderly man who was terminally ill with cancer. The painting would be a portrait of him that he would leave to his family. A huge feeling of compassion made me think that I need to and have to do that commission. What greater cause for a portrait painter than fulfilling someone’s wish to leave a piece of themselves for posterity. My thoughts and wishes were with this man. But, in my heart I felt dread and helplessness in face of the horrible illness. I felt paralyzed at the very thought of having to work on the piece and I realized that I am unable to do this commission. So I referred the man to another artist. I still feel with half of my heart that it was my duty as a portrait painter to do that commission, but I know that it wouldn’t be fair to the task to do it with the horrifying feelings I had. Not being in control of my emotions just sucked the passion out of me.

Markus, I apologize. I realize now that you may have been more appropriately addressing your post to "Robert" Genn, and not myself. Sorry if I misunderstood. I was in a writing frenzy.

I've noticed that when I finish a painting that I really really like, I am so excited that I cannot even sleep very well. Otherwise, I'm continually thinking about what I am painting, enjoying it or being frustrated, but the excessive excitement is not there. Odd. But then, I'm a slow painter and less excitement is no doubt a good thing.

“In the studio or on the road, many artists find they're at their most creative when they're simply on the lookout for joy.”

You know, another way of implying the above quote, is “on the look out for adventure”: looking for the unknown, and discovering how to capture it! And because of the excitement of the adventure: to learn more and to capture that rare moment in time that you are witnessing, then yes, one is wrapped in joy!

Perfect description of my life and process!

Your always insightful postings has had an amazing correspondence to what was on my mind that day but never knew.

Last year, I did a 3’ x 3’ painting of some funky flowers and leaves on a very turquoise background. These colors were selected for my house (I didn’t care if they “went” with anyone else's living room) and this was the most fun I’ve ever had in creating a painting. It was just for me and I found myself painting several days into the wee hours – filled with that wondrous joy of creation! I’ve had several people come to my house and indicate that they really liked it and was it for sale? (Of course not!) Now, I find myself encountering “painter’s block” when it comes to what I’d paint if I were to paint something similar – to sell to them!

How interesting. I will only take a commission that I have had some prior investment in like my children's grandfather's brick farm house...it has my memories in it too. When I do some wearable art, the commissions I sought out were personal memorabilia to incorporate into vests, purses, dolls...then I was motivate to spend the time to give back to a friend...just shopping for stuff to create with has failed me time and time again, and I usually turn down commissions for it feels like "shopping for stuff" aimless, without personal investment.

Pat M. you've got it. That's it. It comes down to personal investment. You've given me an idea going forward and that is, if a commision is requested, to incorporate objects of meaning from the investor and integrate those objects into my personal style of making art. In a way, I'm fortunate in that my practice is subjective and that I have neither the desire or hand/eye coordination to do portrait work for example. One really must have the exceptional gift to fall in love with their subject for at least the length of the transaction and process.

Very interesting...something in me has known this all along. I only sketch, paint & carve things that "tickle my toes". I know if I do this because it's completely joyful to me, this will trickle out to the viewer and they to will became joyful by just looking at it.

In this world we can become bogged down by so much negative reality, we forget about just pure joy & the impact it has on us. I've watched many people stand in front of my paintings for the longest time, smiling, giggling, recognizing lives simple moments captured in a fun & unique way with happy colours.

That's my payment in full.

In addition to being an artist, I am a sailor and world traveler. My entire reason for being an artist is to find a way to share the joy, awe and ecstasy that I have experienced in nature.

When I am painting I am in a world of my own. Exploring lines, colors and presenting these aspects to their best advantage is the greatest challenge that I face. When my work is completed and I see how my efforts came true to form gives me great joy. That moment of accomplishing something to my own satisfaction is the greatest reward for me.

I have enjoyed your letters for a long time. They really cheer me up! I have been in a painting slump for about three years. Really wonder if I will every get out of it. My husband and I have health issues. But let me tell you, I do view that cup half full. We will be celebrating our 63 wedding anniversary May 25. I’m going to try very hard to do a small painting for him. Acrylics, are my favorite. Again, thanks for your wonderful letters.

It would seem that we do need to buck the imposed system, be the non conformist, be contrary to the accepted norm in order to quiet our crowded, noisy surroundings so that we can hear our own creative voice and respond to it.

At least that is what I find myself doing more often than not when I either feel that fevered pitch that it is time to work or finally can tuck away the little "fear demons" that are always lurking close by to carve out that chunk of creative time. I think that once one actually gets started, they have the potential to experience joy but only if they can give themselves, without profound expectation and/or over trumped up "hope", to the creative process.

We live in such a busy world - certainly for some - it is fraught with too many distractions, too many obligations, and too many technologies to keep in mind, in heart, the importance of quieting our surroundings and seeking a safe place to just be with our artistic selves. Sometimes we forget how simple and simultaneously complicated it can be to do that.

In my case, the "autonomy" that author Daniel Pink refers to in his book, was to make the time, give myself permission to leave the obligations for later in order to go to the model session. The "opportunity for mastery" was when I was there and decided to change my approach in order to take full advantage of the creative situation. And finally, the most important guiding force to me in this given situation, was to allow the "sense of purpose" to be in the moment as fully as possible, suspending judgment, expectation, and hope.

This is so true Robert. I have entered into a "Draw Everyday for 365 Days" thingy with a group of creatives. I am an editorial illustrator. These drawings I am doing in this "thingy" are simply for the joy of it. Fun, process, nothing is perfect or altered. It all comes from intuition. Everything is posted.

I can't tell you how joyful it all makes me. How freeing it is. The strange thing is there are quite a few individuals who want me to change the expression of a character, or place a prop in their hand, or consider different colours. I think they are more fearful of this "thingy" then I am. Saying no to the suggestions is also very freeing.

Thanks for the timely post Robert. You can see my editorial spot illustrations here if interested... todayicreate.blogspot.com

Jamie Lees

I have been making art with a good mix of agitation and joy for a while. It's possible some of the agitation comes from the discomfort with joy. How much joy can I safely experience? How much can I hold? Is it dangerous to be joyous? Will it be taken from me if I boldly create out of this blissful state? Will I be too vulnerable? Will people doubt art made of joy? I think thoughts like these have made the acceptance of joy a slowish journey. Not to mention we artists are expected to be cynics. I mean who could, with a clear conscience be happy in a world with so much suffering? This as a premise has made it challenging to be brave enough to hold the joy and let the paintbrush run with it with abandon. But alas, joy seems to have a stronger hand than I and so it is beginning to win. To top it off it is demanding, it pushes me forward steadily. There is always a higher bar to hurl myself over to find the next horizon of creative expression waiting to be articulated. Perhaps that is where the tension lies, it's not completely gone even when joy reigns. So if you are a believer in the angst of the artist in order to create, then fear not. Joy will allow for a certain amount of it, it just won't snuff out your flame in the process as it gives a gentle breeze to keep you wavering, along with ample heat and light.

I'm a Contrarian! In possession of a very strong sense of purpose as far back as I can remember - maybe as far back as age 2, when first challenged by the common beliefs of my parents began asking 'why' . And in doing so, I accepted the responsibility of relating. Soon after I began the journey of looking everywhere for confirmation that it wasn't just Me who felt this joy of knowing.

"Contrarian Critters" is about my motive for making art the way I do. When the inevitable question arises, "Do you sell your work", my first reaction is to cringe. While making money from one's art is certainly a wonderful way to make money; the freedom to think and work unencumbered by that motive alone is a gift. I am of the ilk that supports my art by working other jobs just to keep my creative freedom... and I have to say, I think I am addicted to that freedom.

Nine years ago I left a career in law, at what appeared (from the outside) to be the zenith of my practice. I left to pursue a more self-concordant way of earning a living. My goal was to earn a living through creativity. Since, I have tangoed with the following issue:
I love to oil paint-I truly love creating in oils, mostly faces. I don't even think I consciously choose to do faces, it is what has emerged over time as a constant.
I earn a decent living, however, through designing jewelry, marketed in an even more creative manner. I have never fully understood, but nonetheless knew, that to retain this true love of painting- the almost spiritual aspect to the process of painting, it has been important to me to not earn my living by it. This blog shed so much light on my wondering why this is, and will support the flow of my dance with my paints!
Thank you for your wonderfully creative and inspirational writings!

This letter digs deep and I appreciate it very much. I haven’t been to the studio much since my last show in November, and I feel a slight nausea at the door. When I am in the office (unable to get to the studio), ideas start coming although not with the usual passion. When I get home I either can’t make myself go downstairs, or I go for couple hours, do some half-hearted work and run away. I have been there before – usually in winter or after a show. Your thoughts about intrinsic awards makes me want to go to the studio (but I am reading them in the office so I can’t go now). I will let you know what happens tonight. If you can cure my post-show / winter studio nausea, I owe you a fee.

The quest to regain joy in my paintings, after a life's works' stream in the surreal realm has run dry and no longer revs my motor, has pushed me into abstract impressions of nature.

My friend teaches acrylic painting. She is full of joy when she teaches. She is so positive, encouraging and fun I don't want to take lessons from anyone else. My joy is giving a painting to someone who is thrilled to receive it. My friend encouraged me to sell photos of my paintings on cards. I have done that at a local Craft Fair. That is exciting for me. I am fortunate to be retired so that I can do this. really enjoy reading all the letters, comments and seeing various art that is shown. I was a real stress bucket most of my life. I am trying to be positive by saying to myself each day: "Go forward, HAVE FUN." Thank you.