I was up on a ladder using this new kind of suction cup thing to unscrew a light bulb. I finally noticed I’d disconnected the bulb part from the socket. I phoned my fix-it friend and he advised me to use needle nose plyers. They worked. And I thought to myself, “How many dumb artists does it take to unscrew a light bulb?”
But then, I remembered that the path to joy is to re-frame that bad stuff more positively. So … second go: “How many amazingly talented artists does it take…..” I don’t know. Did that ring true? Talented? Amazing?
When I was a child, all I wanted to draw was a horse. I wanted the horse to be perfect. I wanted AMAZING. “Dad, how’s this look?” Always it needed correction. (I thought to myself, I’m not so talented). He’d sketch these rectangular and triangular shapes to show me how the torso related to the shoulders to the hips, etc.
And so I began to notice, when I saw horses depicted in art or as motifs in furnishings how well they were done. I became the critic. The one judging amazing and talented. Oh yeah. It would drive me nuts to see how terrible so many attempts were.
Now, years and years later, I could care less. Well, maybe a little. What happened to amazing and talented?
As the pope doesn’t say: “Fuck it!” Who cares how exactly a horse looks? Where is such a perfect beast? What was I after?
Back to that blessed light bulb. Shall we try to reframe that question one last time? Okay:
So how many artists who … don’t-give-a-damn does it take… ?
But we all know, artists do give a damn. It’s just knowing what to give that damn about. Right?