The Impossibility of Art by David Johnson
How do I start? Where do you go? How can you describe something as monumentally difficult as art?
Art is fed by dreams and hope and idealism and driven in youth by the stubborn certainty of uncolored optimism. The artist is made from confidence, determination and intelligence. Obstacles are seen and ignored. The possibility for success is near nil. It’s a treacherous path chosen by dreamers and personalities made by hurt and alienation mostly. Surely those few who remain are on a mission.
For most artists the warnings are clear. Enter at your own risk. The potential for failure is great and the rewards are often slim. The world sees the towering figures of history—those brash, bold figures—like giant statues. Hardly real, these historic beacons of the past, the legendary artists in the museums, are great ones that are hardly human. More like heroes, their genius shines in an obvious glow that no one could possibly miss, lighting the dark past in their orb of brilliance. It’s a serious business this art making. Nowadays, anyone who bakes a cake is an artist. It looks so easy. In the news, we read of growing towers of money parked in the art of the chosen ones. Making art is alchemy of the highest order, and a difficult and arduous formula it is to follow. The exact recipe for this magic is deeply mysterious and impossible to decipher. Lifetimes are spent perfecting the conjuring of images in the hopes of capturing an essence so subtle, so tricky that only the artist, that gifted individual, could bring it forth.