The Artist and the Flamingo
This was a story that was told to me when I was a student. I was struggling at the time, and feeling discouraged. My grades were acceptable, but I knew my work was far from being anything of real substance. I knew what great work was. I could feel the power of it, and nothing I had ever done had remotely approached that.
Going to a museum or gallery was always a bitter sweet experience for me. I would stand in front of some of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. The emotional force of the experience was like being physically lifted off your feet and slammed against the wall. It could be quite compelling.
But every time I walked away, I would be washed with a wave of depression. Seeing those great works would leave me acutely aware of my own limitations as an Artist. I knew that it was not enough just to feel something. There was nothing really unique or special about that. Standard human condition took care of it for me. And it was not enough to know something, My training in photography provided for all of that.
The real force of my depression stemmed from the same question every Artist must ask himself, and that is simply; what if everything I am doing is a lie? What if somehow I'm faking it? What if my dreams are nothing more than delusions? And worse, What if I am using this deception in an attempt to fool others into believing me, when there is nothing of substance to believe.
I mentioned this to a young professor at school, and he told me the story of The Artist and the Flamingo. At first glance, it may seem to be just a lesson on mastering technique, but it is much more than that.
Technique is just technique. It is a matter of learning a set of rules and continually practicing them. If you want to know technique, that's all you have to do. If you want to master it, you must give more. Mastering, in a way removes the effort of the medium. Mastering transcends the Artist's tools. And that, is not an easy thing to do. For an Artist to succeed in that, he must be willing to go in and be torn to pieces. Over and over again. Art demands courage. That was the force that grabbed me when I saw the works of the Masters. I recognized how brave they had to be to do what they did.
At the end of this story the patron comments that the drawing is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. What he saw was not just a drawing of a Flamingo, but a picture of the Artist in the Flamingo. There is a difference between knowing something and understanding it.
It was a worthy story for a young Artist to hear.
There was a man who loved Flamingos and really wanted to have a picture of one. So he started asking around town to find out if there was anyone who knew where he might get one. Eventually he learned that there was an artist on the outskirts who might be able to help him. One day he took the train out to the artist's studio to ask him if he could draw him a picture of a Flamingo.
When he arrived at the studio, he found the Artist totally absorbed in his work. There were several paintings on the walls that impressed the man very much, and he was hopeful that the Artist would be able to make a picture for him. Very lightly, carefully, the man knocked on the open door to get the Artist's attention. When the artist looked up, the Man said, “Excuse me, I have been informed that you are a very fine artist. By the looks of the work hanging on your walls, I would say that the information is correct.” The artist looked at the man and said, “Thank you for the compliment.” He gazed at the work around the room and said, “How can I help you?” The man said, “Well, I was wondering if you could draw a picture of a Flamingo for me. I love Flamingos, and I would like to have a very fine picture of one for my home.” The artist thought for a minute and then said, “Yes, I think I will be able to help you. Come back in three weeks and I will have it ready.” The man was thrilled. He thanked the artist and promised to return in three weeks. The two agreed on a time, and then the man left.
Three weeks pass and the man returns. He finds things the same as they were the last time he visited. The artist was intently working on a drawing, there were paintings and drawings around the studio. They were very beautiful, but nowhere was there a picture of a Flamingo. The man carefully knocked as he had done before. The artist looked up and welcomed the man in. “Come in,” he said. “You have come for the Flamingo?”, He asked. "Yes," said the man. “Is it ready? I don't see it anywhere among the other drawings.”
The artist removed the drawing he was working on, and placed a clean sheet of drawing paper on his easel. He began to draw with sure sweeping strokes, and within minutes a beautiful Flamingo emerged. The man had never seen such a drawing. Its sense of elegance, was magnificent, its presence, absolute.
When the artist was finished, the two just stood for awhile and looked at the Flamingo. Finally, the man said, “Its more beautiful than I could have imagined. You are indeed a fine artist. I thank you for this wonderful drawing, but I must ask you why did you make me wait so long when it is clear that you have the power to make such things instantly?”
The artist smiled and motioned the man to come with him. The man followed him into an adjacent room. In the room there was a large closet. The artist walked over to the closet and opened the double doors. Inside there were hundreds of imperfect Flamingo drawings. “You see my friend,” he said. “If I am indeed a fine artist it is only because I have had the greater opportunity to understand my own failures.”
Going to a museum or gallery was always a bitter sweet experience for me. I would stand in front of some of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. The emotional force of the experience was like being physically lifted off your feet and slammed against the wall. It could be quite compelling.
But every time I walked away, I would be washed with a wave of depression. Seeing those great works would leave me acutely aware of my own limitations as an Artist. I knew that it was not enough just to feel something. There was nothing really unique or special about that. Standard human condition took care of it for me. And it was not enough to know something, My training in photography provided for all of that.
The real force of my depression stemmed from the same question every Artist must ask himself, and that is simply; what if everything I am doing is a lie? What if somehow I'm faking it? What if my dreams are nothing more than delusions? And worse, What if I am using this deception in an attempt to fool others into believing me, when there is nothing of substance to believe.
I mentioned this to a young professor at school, and he told me the story of The Artist and the Flamingo. At first glance, it may seem to be just a lesson on mastering technique, but it is much more than that.
Technique is just technique. It is a matter of learning a set of rules and continually practicing them. If you want to know technique, that's all you have to do. If you want to master it, you must give more. Mastering, in a way removes the effort of the medium. Mastering transcends the Artist's tools. And that, is not an easy thing to do. For an Artist to succeed in that, he must be willing to go in and be torn to pieces. Over and over again. Art demands courage. That was the force that grabbed me when I saw the works of the Masters. I recognized how brave they had to be to do what they did.
At the end of this story the patron comments that the drawing is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. What he saw was not just a drawing of a Flamingo, but a picture of the Artist in the Flamingo. There is a difference between knowing something and understanding it.
It was a worthy story for a young Artist to hear.
There was a man who loved Flamingos and really wanted to have a picture of one. So he started asking around town to find out if there was anyone who knew where he might get one. Eventually he learned that there was an artist on the outskirts who might be able to help him. One day he took the train out to the artist's studio to ask him if he could draw him a picture of a Flamingo.
When he arrived at the studio, he found the Artist totally absorbed in his work. There were several paintings on the walls that impressed the man very much, and he was hopeful that the Artist would be able to make a picture for him. Very lightly, carefully, the man knocked on the open door to get the Artist's attention. When the artist looked up, the Man said, “Excuse me, I have been informed that you are a very fine artist. By the looks of the work hanging on your walls, I would say that the information is correct.” The artist looked at the man and said, “Thank you for the compliment.” He gazed at the work around the room and said, “How can I help you?” The man said, “Well, I was wondering if you could draw a picture of a Flamingo for me. I love Flamingos, and I would like to have a very fine picture of one for my home.” The artist thought for a minute and then said, “Yes, I think I will be able to help you. Come back in three weeks and I will have it ready.” The man was thrilled. He thanked the artist and promised to return in three weeks. The two agreed on a time, and then the man left.
Three weeks pass and the man returns. He finds things the same as they were the last time he visited. The artist was intently working on a drawing, there were paintings and drawings around the studio. They were very beautiful, but nowhere was there a picture of a Flamingo. The man carefully knocked as he had done before. The artist looked up and welcomed the man in. “Come in,” he said. “You have come for the Flamingo?”, He asked. "Yes," said the man. “Is it ready? I don't see it anywhere among the other drawings.”
The artist removed the drawing he was working on, and placed a clean sheet of drawing paper on his easel. He began to draw with sure sweeping strokes, and within minutes a beautiful Flamingo emerged. The man had never seen such a drawing. Its sense of elegance, was magnificent, its presence, absolute.
When the artist was finished, the two just stood for awhile and looked at the Flamingo. Finally, the man said, “Its more beautiful than I could have imagined. You are indeed a fine artist. I thank you for this wonderful drawing, but I must ask you why did you make me wait so long when it is clear that you have the power to make such things instantly?”
The artist smiled and motioned the man to come with him. The man followed him into an adjacent room. In the room there was a large closet. The artist walked over to the closet and opened the double doors. Inside there were hundreds of imperfect Flamingo drawings. “You see my friend,” he said. “If I am indeed a fine artist it is only because I have had the greater opportunity to understand my own failures.”
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