To be a proper artist, that is, to be one that is completely devoted to his craft, he must attain and retain his utmost sensitivities. Unfortunately, in a society rooted in competition and obsessed with both security and success, this makes for a difficult challenge. To be sensitive today is to imply weakness of body, mind and character. Our intensely commercial society, which continually advocates the building of strength, position and power, heavily endorses the often ruthless idea of being meaner and tougher than everyone else. It seems to say that this is the way — and the only way — to find security, respectability and happiness. This is hardly debatable anywhere worldwide. We generally fear being vulnerable for the vulnerable are seen as prey. In fact, we have divided society into a place of winners and losers. We call this concept meritocracy, which implies that only the strongly conscientious and intelligent succeed, and if you don’t succeed, you must therefore be lazy, stupid or undeserving. And hence, to be sensitive or vulnerable means being justifiably exposed to attack, ridicule and being cast side or ostracized.
And it is no longer just the world of corporate business or politics that displays such a mindset. This has been extended into the world of the arts; it is no longer uncommon for people in positions of authority to bully or belittle artists below them in public standing rather than to support and help those needing of experienced advice. But aside from being unnecessarily cruel or unethical, this kind of non-inclusive mindset actually empties the work place of genunie discovery and creativity. It is not surprising that in larger and more competitive environments, there’s less and less risk-taking and originality. Contrary to common economic parlance, fear does not invite innovation. It might introduce novelty through convoluted efforts and clever marketing schemes but generally nothing new is ever created. Fear destroys the sensitive creative gift which can only take form in stability and security. The artist has to draw from deeply within and this requires precisely the ability to be sensitive in order to make good on his work. Genuinity and true authenticity can only make its way out when it’s welcoming to do so. In fact, it takes much courage even when the coast is clear. Just as it takes much greater strength to be kind and empathetic than it is to be cynical and critical, it actually takes as much courage or more to be vulnerable and risk failure or ridicule. Many people think that art is a merely superfluous “selfish” activity without realizing that the exact opposite is true; to make art is a forward moving act of humanity that sacrifices all the convenience, approval and security every human being needs to survive both physically and psychologically. To be a fulltime artist, especially one that is doing the truly uncommon, is a courageous and committed act of generosity for society.
Furthermore, art is about relationships; the visual language of the craft is only understood and used effectively when we see the relationships between things. Shapes, lines, colors, movements etcetera matter on their own as much as they do each other and it’s their relative placement, size and frequency that create form, rhythm, balance, and texture for compositions to be actually interesting. The artist who only sees things in isolation can not produce anything of appeal or impact. In environments where fear dominates, artists tend to think and see in isolation because he’s entirely obsessed with end results, namely security and approval. He loses both insight and practice of the process. This is both obvious and obviously destructive.
Therefore, the artist shouldn’t fight or will his way through this work but instead look and listen to it. He must empty his mind of his preconceived notions of success or perfection. He can’t be overly concerned with his own insecure ego-self nor think of making work that is to conform to someone else’s ideas.
Remember, the true artist is never hoping to gain materially in his work; he is hoping to discover and learn about himself and that can only happen when the artist enquires with his eyes and ears set to their highest, most acute levels of sensitivity. It is only with such intense attention that he can possibly make out what it is that is required of him. When I paint, for example, I often sit in front of my canvas — which is often as large as 10 feet in width — for a long time, asking it what it wants. It’s a submission to higher forces. I do not order it around. No will is involved. And there is no struggle, because that actually gets in the way, for that, too, is noise. I simply look and listen. I believe that is where the real hard work is.
If you’re an animator, much of the hard work is in the preparation. All the play, exploration, looking, and searching is the springboard for discovery. Then the process repeats itself again during actual animation. One can not just proceed mindlessly because some work has been done. The work — the art — is alive and always changing. Each new line, shape, movement, alters the entire piece. Change one thing and the entire composition and feeling is altered. This much the artist must understand and be constantly aware of. Now, if we are wasting our energy worrying about ours or other people’s preconcieved ideas of success or outcome how can we possibly do our work well? One must keep his mind clear, free and sensitive. It may sound strange, but we must first be open to receive in order for us to give.