Finding the Artist Within

Every artist struggles within himself to find his voice. Be they a writer, a painter, or a filmmaker; their voices lie deep within them -- a fossil hidden within rock. And as the archeologist must break away earth to find the beauty within, so must the artist. This is never easy, always painstaking, and many times never accomplished with success. The problem is different for each artist. We are all unique, and must determine by ourselves the best approach for success over our internal conflict. The problems are many: do I obey the rules or break them? which one's do I break? should I imitate those who inspire me? do I have an original bone in my body? is this worth doing?

Is it worth doing? That's the stumbling block for most artists who seem to have forgotten why they loved their art to begin with. Perhaps, after trying to make ends meat with their talents, they became burnt out, ashamed of how they commercialized their skills. Or perhaps some lost their passion after a random set of external circumstances. The truth is, if you don't find your purpose in something, your voice will never be heard, because there's nothing worth listening to. I struggled with all of the above questions at some point. I was a draftsman, dabbled in painting, looked for an occupation in graphic design, and eventually realized I wanted to be a filmmaker. This epiphany occurred to me at the same time I realized why I needed to be a filmmaker. Not everyone gets to have that, and I won't be sharing mine with you here. I mentioned it only to say that having a purpose is only part of the solution

Passion, too, is important, but will only get you so far by itself. Passion without purpose is fruitless and bound to crumble. I believe all artists are born with a  passion for their art, why else would we spend hours on end staring at paper, forming illusions with graphite? It starts with a crayon or finger paint, and something within us bursts. It was always there, but we connect to it suddenly, without realizing what's happening. Of course the feeling is cemented the moment our mother's eyes grow wide with excitement as she exclaims, "Oh, how beautiful! Did you do that?!" Inevitably this is followed with, "What is it?" but we never seem to understand where such a question would come from, and it doesn't matter. We're infatuated with what we've done. We have entertained, possibly even captivated.

What are we to do when others start to comment on our growing talent? We're helpless to such compliments, addicted to them even. It's why we do what we do, in the beginning at least. For some of us, when we leave the comfortable surroundings of high school, we realize we are not the only artists walking around, nor are we the best. In fact, there are thousands better, with talents far exceeding ours. A sobering moment of question. Should you continue? Here is where purpose comes into play. It keeps us on the road despite the weathered path, with its cold and thankless breath. I have often found that it is myself who creates the feelings of artist's depression. Those are the moments you think you're a worthless craftsman who has waisted so much time outside of his craft. You hate yourself for watching sitcoms you can't remember the story to, instead of painting, or writing, or in my case filming. But my purpose keeps me from taking that factory job, where I know I'll be sucked up into oblivion.

Passion is why we do what we do, purpose keeps us doing it. Still, these are not enough. Still we struggle to find our uniqueness, the voice that will set us apart. For me, it has been the act of learning about arts I would not normally enjoy that has progressed the uniqueness of my own voice. Studying foreign literature and women's literature, the methods of criticism, and documentary films have had the most profound influence on me. I believe, early on, my scope of such things was too small to fully appreciate what I had the potential to say, and be. On the cusp of earning my degree in literature, I can say for certain that my education has played a vital role in becoming a well rounded visionary. Heap on top of this my experiences, something that can never be learned.

I encourage all artists to first seek experiences. No, I'm not talking about the time you spend at the drawing table. I'm talking about getting out of your hometown and experiencing life from another perspective. Life in California is nothing like life in Ohio. Neither is life on a ship, or in the desert, or in the jungle sleeping beneath the stars and eating python, in any way, the same as life in Ohio. And certainly nothing is as life sobering as hearing, for the first time, your friend has died in a roadside explosion. If anything has had an impact on my continual journey forward into filmmaking, it has been the obsession with my own mortality. Being in a constant state of reminder that my life is fragile, capable of being extinguished any moment, has led to a fervent desire for me to leave my mark on the world. It is possible I will never succeed, but I have learned to look through the possible what-ifs, and to the why-nots. I encourage the artists out there to do the same. Find your purpose, find your voice, and keep seeking experiences. We're only here for a short time.

Subjects in the above photographs are: Akira Kurosawa, Ernest Hemingway, and Jackson Pollock