It All Belongs To Me

A number of years ago, I was watching an interview with Ruth Simmons, current President of Brown University in Providence, on "60 Minutes."   Ed Bradley was asking her about her childhood as daughter of a sharecropper in Texas, and then asked about her field of study at Harvard.  "17th Century French Literature," she replied.  "How does the daughter of a sharecropper in the rural, segregated South even know that there is such a thing as 17th Century French Literature?!?"   "Because, Ed," she said smiling sweetly, "it all belongs to me!"

It all belongs to me.

Because I'm interested in it, passionate about it, love it -- it belongs to me.  Even if there is no external reason for it -- nothing in my family history, nothing in what I was taught in school, nothing in my class, race, upbringing -- it still belongs to me.

Why do I have a specific love of Brazilian Music?  I've never been to Brazil.  Growing up I didn't know any Brazilians (not many to know in suburban Boston).  Why am I so passionate about Classical Music and French cooking?  Why am I making a career as a portrait artist?  My parents weren't particularly interested in any of it -- so why?  I grew up in a working class family 20 miles south of Boston.  My dad was a machinist and my mom was a homemaker.  My dad liked music so I was exposed to a bit of classical music as a child.  There were no artists in my family, in fact I would often look at my family (cousins, aunts, uncles etc.) and think, "There is no one I can point to and say, 'I'm like them.'"

So here I am, a working portrait artist, a great lover of all kinds of music, a sometime choral singer, a "foodie," a junky for culture, an urban internationalist and Europhile.  Why?  Because it all belongs to me. 

Why We "Do do that voodoo!"

I think artists must be among the bravest people on earth.  No, for the most part we are not distinguishing ourselves on the battlefield or saving children from burning buildings or doing any of the other things that are conventionally called "brave."  Our's is a different form of bravery.  We aren't necessarily risking our lives but we are constantly putting ourselves, our hopes and our reputations on the line with no guarantee of success, remuneration, reward or even satisfaction.  We are brave because we have the audacity to go every day to our studios and face the blank canvas, the blank piece of paper, the unformed lump of clay and try to make art.  To make "something" out of "nothing."

Why do we do it?  Why do we put ourselves through the endless doubt, disappointments and despair? 

I think it's because we've been given a gift and we feel the responsibility of the gift.  There is a quote I love from Red Skelton -- "When you have a talent, that's God's gift to you; when you use that talent, that's your gift to God."  Whether you believe in God or not, it's a great statement to ponder.    We have a gift and we've been given that gift for a reason.  We must use it.  Even if we try and ignore it, it comes creeping back to say "Don't forget about me -- you can do something that no-one else can do -- so do it!"  There have been three times in my life that I have said (out loud) "I am no longer an artist, I will never be an artist, I must find something else to do!"  I got rid of all my art stuff and tried to have another life.  Each time, art creeped back into me.

It is a huge responsibility and a great burden but there are rewards.  When you get that little glimpse of the "divine,"  it reminds you why you "do do that voodoo," and  pulls you along through the disappointments, so you can keep going.   Remember when you are downhearted and disappointed that what you are doing is brave and audacious and important -- and "keep on doin' what you do!"