The Artist’s Curse

Gustave Courbet: The Desperate Man

It seems to be an inevtiable fact of life that artists are dissatisfied with all the work that they produce. The problem though is that each individual artist is convinced that this dissatisfaction, so profoundly and sincerely felt by him or herself, can, on the part of others, only be self-regarding false modesty.

It seems perhaps believable that a towering romantic genius such as Michelangelo could be in fits of rage with his own inadequacy as one immortal masterpiece after another came forth from his brush or chisel, such men live in the clouds and are governed by different rules from us mere mortals, but what are we to make of a man like Sir John Millais, a man for whom the word “proficiency” could have been invented, reportedly literally crying with grief and rage at his own “failure”?

 

A Failure

Looking at his work, (despite my ironic caption above) I find it hard to take it seriously and yet this show of emotion was  not meant for public consumption and I think we must in the end take it at face value.  My favourite artist Burne-Jones talked of walking round feeling like a worthless imposter because he had achieved so little and his friend Rossetti refused to exhibit at the newly opened Grosvenor Gallery “because of that lifelong feeling of disatisfaction which I have experienced from the disparity of aim and attainment.”

 

 

A Worthless Imposter

Now, I regard these men as great painters and am by no means alone in that opinion, so what are we to make of such statements and how does all this relate to me and my work? Well not surprisngly I often feel my own painting is not of the required standard and in that regard (at least)  I am in the same company as Michelangelo, Millais, Burne-Jones and all the rest. The difference is of course, that they were wrong and I am right. We are told of the “artists’ curse” all artists are unhappy with what they do because they can’t see it objectively but what if you can see it objectively, or think you can, and still aren’t happy with it?

A few days ago I finished this still life pictured below left. I had done a little colour study for it and was quite excited by it. It seemed to work, there was a unity and breadth about it I found pleasing, objectively. This feeling more or less sustained itself through the painting of the actual picture. I finished the work and thought it was pretty good, maybe not as good as the picture in my head before I started which was of course the Platonic ideal of a still life painting, but still, pretty decent. Then 24 hours after finishing it and with the first flush of a successfully completed endeavour begining to fade I happened to see this painting (below right) by an artist I wasn’t aware of, Naomi Marino, and a big cold bucket of reality was thrown over my slightly swelling head. This was clearly and objectively a better painting than mine and not just a bit better but a whole league better. I came down to earth with a thump.

Yellow Rose and Lemons
Still Life by Naomi Marino

I seem to have two choices in front of me, do I say oh, its just the “artist’s curse”, I can’t judge my work properly and I have all these historical antecedents proving that this is a near universal problem so no need to worry, or less palatably do I say no, I can judge between one picture and another and mine is clearly the inferior? This is what I have done, and am doing. I don’t hate my picture now, I think its quite good and I reserve the possibility that it may be better than I think ( a bit), but I am convinced (and I dont think I can be persauded out of this view) that Ms. Marino’s picture is superior. The question then becomes, why is it? and what can I learn to make my pictures better. That seems to be the more useful approach, the most constructive and the most Darwinian, in the sense that the dissastisfaction gene is a useful gene to have and more likely to be passed on than the self satisfaction gene. I know that analogy doesn’t stretch too far but perhaps those artists who don’t experience dissastisfaction are the branch lines of evolution which become extinct and leave no fossil record.

Hate yourself or perish! Its a tough old world out there, good luck everyone!