Sandy Carlson is a blogger friend that often visits my site. I have admired her work as well as her artistic abilities in writing, poetry, graffiti, photography, and making slides. You may visit her site here. She is not only a gifted individual but she also has a very gentle and kind spirit. I appreciate her very much and I wanted to post this essay she wrote. Well done, Sandy!
If you hear a voice within you say ‘you cannot paint,’ then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced. (Vincent Van Gogh)
Acceptance and rejection are two sides of a coin that must be invested and reinvested in the creative process. They are insights, holes in the walls that isolate us from the world around us and let in the light of understanding.
It can take time to assimilate both acceptance and rejection and avoid the pitfall of becoming complacent in response to the former and inactive in response to the latter. This can be difficult because artists are vulnerable at every turn in the creative process. They have expressed whatever is true and real in themselves in the truest, most real way possible, and they await a response. Will you stop and look? Give it a thought? Do you get it? Do you care?
On Sunday, I attended a forum on acceptance and rejection at Wisdom House. There, a panel of five artists–sculptor Joy Brown, poet Davyne Verstandig, visual artist and writer Florin Firimita, actress Cady McClain, and music director Tim Stella discussed the place of acceptance and rejection in their lives. Two reflections struck a chord with me.
One came from Florin Firimita. He talked about an experience about 18 years ago, shortly after he had emigrated from Romania to the US via Italy. He had been sitting for five hours with a gallery owner who had seen his work. At the end of the conversation, the gallery owner told him he wouldn’t show Firimita’s work–flowers and landscapes–because it was, he said, wall paper. He told the young artist he didn’t believe his body of work reflected who he was. Firimita spent a year thinking about what this provocative statement could mean. Ultimately, he discovered the gallery owner was right, and he changed his direction as an artist. His florals and landscapes gave way to psychological landscapes that explore the universal themes of identity, love, death, loss, reality, dreams and memories.
The other came from sculptor Joy Brown. She talked about her time in Japan as an apprentice sculptor. She had thrown countless sake cups, but not a one pleased her teacher. So off they went to the dump. The student had more to offer, and the teacher was not willing to settle before she realized it for herself. Accepting that meant accepting a broader horizon full of possibilities. She discovered later, though, that the man who had managed the dump had rescued her little cups from the rubbish and displayed them around his hut. They pleased him; he found them beautiful. These cups were works of art for him though they were merely a step in a broader creative process for Brown.
I’ve known acceptance and rejection. They feel the same to me. I prefer that moment when I am creating and nobody is around and the voice inside says “yes.” I don’t always here it, and it doesn’t last long; it doesn’t have to. The “yes” is the air in the cushion that protects me from the pain of rejection and even the painful challenge of acceptance. The “yes” tells me what I have done is true and good right now. And it asks, “Will you come with me, please?”
