Surrealmuse Studios

Have you ever been to a local art show?

We’ve recently attended a show in which surrealmuse participated, which was very crowded and had an excellent turnout.

There were paintings, sculptures, and of course, all of the associated people and requisite art show paraphernalia that you would expect to see from the “artsy” crowd. There were street musicians playing outside, photographers snapping away, and reporters reporting. It was a fun and energetic atmosphere, with plenty of people roaming the gallery, sipping on coffee or wine, all talking excitedly about art.

The walls were absolutely covered from ceiling to floor with pieces in all mediums and style. Pastels, oil, digital photographs. Everything. Overall, a good opening night for a gallery.

While hovering near the line for the gallery’s only and one-person-capacity restroom, I overheard a conversation which struck me as rather odd. It was a man and a a woman, about the same age as my wife and I. They were debating the merits of various pieces with other people waiting for the restroom. The man, who was very tall, and dressed in head to toe in black, was talking loudly and empassionately. He reminded me for all the world of a beatnik or Allen Ginsburg wannabe. He suddenly raised his voice and made a sweeping gesture, as if to encompass all of the art on the walls and then said “Of course, you all realize that most of this is definitely not art.”

For some reason, this struck me as funny, and I fully expected for this to be a conversation stopper. Why would anyone say such a thing at a gathering of artists? I was surprised when the people he was speaking to emphatically nodded their heads and made ejaculations of agreement.

Personally, I have never really attended many art shows before marrying the lovely mrs. muse. I’ve been to a scant few before meeting her, and I feel that the experience of going to these shows has been, overall, good for me. But this struck me as such a strange thing to say, and stranger still that so many people seemingly agreed with him.

Now, don’t worry. I’m not going to go into a tirade about “what is art” and “what isn’t art.” There’s plenty of articles like this all over the web, with thousands of vehement comments and flaming attached to them. Personally, I don’t think this can be defined by anyone other than the person who created the piece. I thought on this a bit, a bit disgruntled over this man’s comment, (naturally, since my wife’s work was on exhibit,) and then I found myself asking, “What is my art?”

I’ve always been able to draw. Pencil and ink have always been tools that I found myself comfortable using. I have drawn portraits for friends, and even donated a few pieces to be auctioned off for charity. I am very good at making an image that is interesting to look at, but, for some reason, I don’t find myself drawing that often. I don’t feel compelled to do it other than the odd doodle here or there, and very rarely a full piece. For whatever reason, its just not my thing.

Also, I’ve been relatively good at the performing arts. I have been in countless high school plays, dramatic competitions, and was the nerdy Drama Club President at one point. I’ve even performed stand-up comedy to some moderate success. And although I was good at it, performing was, well, not my thing either.

Being around a bunch of artists, especially good artists, can be somewhat disheartening to a person such as myself. But when I set out to write this entry and plan for how I wanted to express myself regarding this beatnik’s sweeping statement, I realized that art need not be confined to something you can hang on a wall, or a piece of clay.

The key to discovering your art lies within understanding how drive and passion play a part in your everyday activities. For me, I am finding that my artwork is mostly edible. I am a culinary student currently, and I find that cooking, and the thought process of creating high cuisine, is an art form all to itself. Of course, the French have been saying this for years, and its nothing new. But, this is my thing. For me, there is a drive and passion to it. There is a meticulous attention to detail, a desire to create the most specular food that has ever been witnessed. Cooking high cuisine need not be snooty or pretentious, and yet can perfectly illustrate the passion of the person who made it.

Just as some of those paintings were on the more simplistic or cliche side, it is simply not enough to decide what is and isn’t art based upon whether or not something is in vogue. Art can be only defined by the creator of the piece, whether it be a perfectly composed salad or a pastel drawing.

Art cannot be defined in the terms of the end product. Sure, the overall composition of a piece may or may not be more or less pleasing to you, but the art is in the process, the drive, the passion, and the intensity with which the piece was created. It is a combination of all of your talents, and something that which you feel compelled to create, or a process that you feel moved to perform.

The reason that I feel this way is that I am in a house in which my wife is constantly in motion, moving from one place to another, kicking up pastel dust and creating pieces in a rather rapid fire fashion. For her, I am able to see the focus, the drive, the passion, and the sweat and tears she places into each and every one of her pieces. Every piece she creates has a deeper meaning and importance to her, be it excising a particular stressor or sheer expression of emotion. There are pieces that we can look back on, and have it remind us of a particular life event, because the image itself was created to deal with, or inspired by, an event that had happened in our life. When I watch her, unabashedly in awe of her creative ability, I can’t help but feel the energy and passion that seems to stream forth from her when she is working on a piece. The only feeling that I find similar in my own mind is when I am in a kitchen, wearing my chef whites, hat and apron, flames flying high and creating flavors and aromas in the air all around me. Cooking, for me, is an expression of emotion, of intensity, and mental clarity and focus. They are both very different pursuits, but both artforms, nonetheless.

So, if you ever find yourself questioning your ability as an artist, you first must ask yourself, “what is my art?” Where is your passion? And, whatever you do, don’t be discourage by those that might look at you and say “This isn’t art,” because no one can define your passions for you but yourself. Look to where you place your energy, where you spend your time, and what seems to drive you more than anything else. Whether it be a way of expressing yourself via a medium, or even a particular way of life, let your art be what it already is: an expression of your passion.