Great interview over at the Utne Reader with former chair of the NEA, Bill Ivey, on the place of amateur artists. I've heard this argument before, that the consumer structure of our society encourages people to be consumers rather than producers of or participants in art the way we participate in sports, and I think there's some validity to it. I know when I was trying out different forms of art—guitar, pencil sketching, ceramics—I always had a sense that I wasn't good enough, creative enough, talented enough to continue doing these things. I was never going to be a professional musician, a sketch artist, a ceramicist or potter, so it was a waste of my time and effort to pursue them. There was a chance I might actually be a writer, be good enough to be a professional writer of some kind, so it was okay to pursue that. But the other stuff I should just let go, no matter how much I enjoyed it.
I used to be good at drawing, especially people. I look at back at some of the pencil portraits I did in high school and think, damn, those are really good: the proportions are right, I've caught the likeness, the perspective is good, they even have some life and liveliness in them. No mean feat for an amateur. And I enjoyed doing it. I'm sorry now that I've given it up. It's very time-consuming though and I'll probably not go back to it any time soon. But now that I'm so out of practice, I've lost the notion that I'm even capable of drawing well, which is what happens when you let a skill get rusty. I'm pretty sure it's not true though, that all it would take is some practice to warm me up again.
Music, too. I don't have perfect pitch like my best friend Mel, who is an extremely talented musician, but I can definitely carry a tune and I have a very good ear for music. But I can't read music either. Any music I've learned—and I've learned a vaster amount than any iPod will ever hold, thanks very much—I've learned by ear, and that includes playing it on the penny whistle, flute, or guitar, all of which I've been known to mess around with. Inspired by listening to Crosby Stills & Nash, I got really good for a while at picking out odd harmonies, too.
I actually got interested in penny whistles on my first visit to Scotland, which, like Ireland, has a long tradition of informal music-making. People show up at the pub with their pipes, their fiddles, a guitar, a bodhran, a penny whistle and before you know it, you've got a band. I asked one guy why he chose penny whistle to play as an instrument. "Because it fits in your back pocket and you never know when you might run into somebody else who wants to play," he told me. The key word there, I think, is "play" not just as in play an instrument, or play with other musicians, but play with music, with art.
Recently, I had to get rid of my acoustic guitar because had the body had split after being hauled around for 20 years and the neck was warped, and boy do I miss it. Not that I was very good. But I really enjoyed jamming with my stereo the way I still enjoy singing with it. Someday when I get a few extra bucks, I want to invest in an inexpensive electric guitar and practice amp, just for the fun of it. For the time being, it's just me and my penny whistles.
Now and then good amateurs can make that leap to the professional realm, and that's when you realize there's not all that much difference between them. Rob, who's been singing and reading music in church choirs most of his life, as well as playing recorder sang for a time with a professional Early Music group in Ann Arbor, now disbanded, called Vox. They cut a couple of albums, one in Edinburgh and did some every beautiful pieces. Mel, who doesn't have a degree in music either, but who I'd put up against just about any professional in a heartbeat is probably technically considered an amateur because of that, a distinction that I think is completely artificial. Some of our most amazing musicians and artists don't have any formal training, just a hell of a lot of talent and instinct. Jazz and blues are and rock n' roll are filled with musicians like this.
I've done a lot of thinking about this subject because of my own lack of formal art training. It took me a long time to feel comfortable calling myself a poet, even though I do have that formal training. Calling myself a book artist is slowly starting to feel more comfortable now, the more I play in the genre. And why? Because I have a lot of ideas for books roiling around in my head, which is always a good sign. And without any regard, I plunged myself right into the field with Marcia when we did The Ruins. That's what amateurs do: plunge in without regard for credentials. I need a little more of that courage in my life. We all do. Plunge in, people. Don't let those professionals scare you off. Art belongs to everyone.
I'm gonna go make dinner now, and sing while I'm doing it.
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