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vcmwThis weekend I had two tries at saying a thing and managed both badly, so I thought, well, third time's the charm and I will try again in text and see if it works better than speech.
I was talking about art, and about what makes art successful in the commercial, rather than the artistic sense (though I'm not sure they're entirely separable, for reasons that probably will come clear as I ramble). And one of the things I said is that it made me mad when people who weren't playing the game got angry because they didn't win. That if you didn't try to figure out what the right things were, if you didn't study and imitate what the people who were successful did, then if your art wasn't successful in a broad commercial sense, that wasn't an unexpected outcome. So that was the first way I said it badly. And that if the things they were trying to do weren't the things that won the game, weren't even plays in the game, if they were playing one sport and being angry they hadn't won another, that was also unreasonable. And that was the second way I said it badly.
The thing is, I think, that I fell into the trap of saying something that is commonly used to refer to one thing when I was trying to use it to refer to something else entirely. I have the vague sense that when most people talk about "studying what other people do that is successful" they're referring to marketing and content: do you blog about your work on the right platform, or talk about it to the right people at the right parties, or do you have the right kind of sparkly alien werewolves or tragic 19 year old antiheroes in your story or whatever.
For me, the thing that other people do that makes their art successful, as far as I can tell, is about feelings. And I think it's a miserable uncomfortable thought to have as an artist, maybe, even if it's a value-neutral or even positive feeling to have as a critic. Writers talk about being naked on the page, or bleeding into the work, or things like that, and that sounds wrong-but-adjacent to me. Or they talk about knowing their audience, or writing for an audience, and that also sounds wrong-but-adjacent to me.
The things I notice in a lot of artists who are successful - the ones who are making art that seems to fulfill them personally and as art, and who are also commercially successful by some relative measure - are the same things I notice in a lot of relationships that are successful. They are giving something honestly of themselves, and they are constructing art that is a gift, that offers something out of goodwill and affection for at least some slice of their audience. And then, and I think this is the frustrating part because it's just like the end of every awkward advice column about dating or whatever: somehow, through a whole host of unfair and uncontrollable factors, other people found the art this artist was creating and loved the art back.
As far as I can tell, what I think of as art working happens when the artist makes art out of a place of love, and the audience accepts that art and loves the art back. Which is why I'm not sure that particular flavor of success can be completely separated between the artistic and the commercial.
And the reason I get so upset and angry at artists who rage that their art is not successful is that I hear them basically hating themselves, their art, or their audience. (Or the random vagaries of fate, which I think is actually legitimate. But even if it starts there, it tends to circle back to hating at least one of those other three things: self, art, or audience.) And I don't think any of the things that I personally understand as success can grow in those conditions.
Anyway, when I hear an artist talking about the vast majority of readers or audience members for art as being tasteless, or ignorant, or stupid, or needing to be educated to like the right things: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you feel that way. That sounds incredibly painful. I don't personally think successful art can be created while feeling that way. If what you want is to be successful, I think the play here is to come to some sort of positive relationship with your perception of audience.
When I hear people talking about their own art as if it was poisonous, or morally wrong, or hitting them when all our backs are turned, or driving them to drink. I'm so sorry. That sounds incredibly painful. Even if you can create beautiful and amazing art sometimes under those circumstances, that doesn't sound like a healthy relationship. I don't think you can create a sustainable career engaging constantly with something you hate or something that harms you. I really hope you find ways to come to a positive relationship, at least sometimes, with your own art.
When I hear people talking about themselves as just not worthwhile. As not lovable. I think that can manifest itself in hiding all the most personal and vulnerable parts of yourself even when you create art. And I think that distance can mute or distort the art you create. It's not that art needs to be transparent or autobiographical, it's that it's physically and psychically hard to move in one direction, while also hurling yourself away in the opposite direction. It's really hard to create something when you're trying not to be yourself while you do it.
I guess I want to clarify here because all of this definitely betrays the... I dunno, the moral and spiritual context in which I was raised to think about art. You can create really dark art for an audience who likes dark terrifying things, and you can do it out of a place of loving and honoring yourself, having a good relationship with the art, and appreciating your audience. You can write happy for now porn, or violent thrillers, or paint pictures full of strange tortured creatures tearing down the sky. It doesn't need to be dolphins and rainbows and happy trees on waterfalls. (There is nothing wrong with it being dolphins and happy trees. Or a mix: dolphins and angry trees, maybe?)
As far as I can tell, the game of successful art is a lot like any other relationship game. The three plays are about relationship with self, relationship with art, and relationship with audience. The win state is a successful, sustainable connection among the three. I mean, there are no guarantees. Even though as human beings we need and deserve love we don't necessarily get it no matter how hard we try, right? And that can be enraging and terrifying and painful.
It's.. just... it's super hard to build a good relationship with someone you hate, or fear, or resent. Y'know? So if what you want as an artist is a good relationship, but you want to also hold on to hating yourself, your art, or your audience, these seem like fundamentally inconsistent desires to me.
That's what I was trying to say. That's what I mean when I say it frustrates me when people are angry that they're losing but they aren't playing the game that has a winning option. Please love yourselves. Please love your art. Please love your audience, however you need to define that audience to make that work. Here's my third shot at saying it. I don't know if it's better than the other two. If not, some time I'll try again.
I was talking about art, and about what makes art successful in the commercial, rather than the artistic sense (though I'm not sure they're entirely separable, for reasons that probably will come clear as I ramble). And one of the things I said is that it made me mad when people who weren't playing the game got angry because they didn't win. That if you didn't try to figure out what the right things were, if you didn't study and imitate what the people who were successful did, then if your art wasn't successful in a broad commercial sense, that wasn't an unexpected outcome. So that was the first way I said it badly. And that if the things they were trying to do weren't the things that won the game, weren't even plays in the game, if they were playing one sport and being angry they hadn't won another, that was also unreasonable. And that was the second way I said it badly.
The thing is, I think, that I fell into the trap of saying something that is commonly used to refer to one thing when I was trying to use it to refer to something else entirely. I have the vague sense that when most people talk about "studying what other people do that is successful" they're referring to marketing and content: do you blog about your work on the right platform, or talk about it to the right people at the right parties, or do you have the right kind of sparkly alien werewolves or tragic 19 year old antiheroes in your story or whatever.
For me, the thing that other people do that makes their art successful, as far as I can tell, is about feelings. And I think it's a miserable uncomfortable thought to have as an artist, maybe, even if it's a value-neutral or even positive feeling to have as a critic. Writers talk about being naked on the page, or bleeding into the work, or things like that, and that sounds wrong-but-adjacent to me. Or they talk about knowing their audience, or writing for an audience, and that also sounds wrong-but-adjacent to me.
The things I notice in a lot of artists who are successful - the ones who are making art that seems to fulfill them personally and as art, and who are also commercially successful by some relative measure - are the same things I notice in a lot of relationships that are successful. They are giving something honestly of themselves, and they are constructing art that is a gift, that offers something out of goodwill and affection for at least some slice of their audience. And then, and I think this is the frustrating part because it's just like the end of every awkward advice column about dating or whatever: somehow, through a whole host of unfair and uncontrollable factors, other people found the art this artist was creating and loved the art back.
As far as I can tell, what I think of as art working happens when the artist makes art out of a place of love, and the audience accepts that art and loves the art back. Which is why I'm not sure that particular flavor of success can be completely separated between the artistic and the commercial.
And the reason I get so upset and angry at artists who rage that their art is not successful is that I hear them basically hating themselves, their art, or their audience. (Or the random vagaries of fate, which I think is actually legitimate. But even if it starts there, it tends to circle back to hating at least one of those other three things: self, art, or audience.) And I don't think any of the things that I personally understand as success can grow in those conditions.
Anyway, when I hear an artist talking about the vast majority of readers or audience members for art as being tasteless, or ignorant, or stupid, or needing to be educated to like the right things: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you feel that way. That sounds incredibly painful. I don't personally think successful art can be created while feeling that way. If what you want is to be successful, I think the play here is to come to some sort of positive relationship with your perception of audience.
When I hear people talking about their own art as if it was poisonous, or morally wrong, or hitting them when all our backs are turned, or driving them to drink. I'm so sorry. That sounds incredibly painful. Even if you can create beautiful and amazing art sometimes under those circumstances, that doesn't sound like a healthy relationship. I don't think you can create a sustainable career engaging constantly with something you hate or something that harms you. I really hope you find ways to come to a positive relationship, at least sometimes, with your own art.
When I hear people talking about themselves as just not worthwhile. As not lovable. I think that can manifest itself in hiding all the most personal and vulnerable parts of yourself even when you create art. And I think that distance can mute or distort the art you create. It's not that art needs to be transparent or autobiographical, it's that it's physically and psychically hard to move in one direction, while also hurling yourself away in the opposite direction. It's really hard to create something when you're trying not to be yourself while you do it.
I guess I want to clarify here because all of this definitely betrays the... I dunno, the moral and spiritual context in which I was raised to think about art. You can create really dark art for an audience who likes dark terrifying things, and you can do it out of a place of loving and honoring yourself, having a good relationship with the art, and appreciating your audience. You can write happy for now porn, or violent thrillers, or paint pictures full of strange tortured creatures tearing down the sky. It doesn't need to be dolphins and rainbows and happy trees on waterfalls. (There is nothing wrong with it being dolphins and happy trees. Or a mix: dolphins and angry trees, maybe?)
As far as I can tell, the game of successful art is a lot like any other relationship game. The three plays are about relationship with self, relationship with art, and relationship with audience. The win state is a successful, sustainable connection among the three. I mean, there are no guarantees. Even though as human beings we need and deserve love we don't necessarily get it no matter how hard we try, right? And that can be enraging and terrifying and painful.
It's.. just... it's super hard to build a good relationship with someone you hate, or fear, or resent. Y'know? So if what you want as an artist is a good relationship, but you want to also hold on to hating yourself, your art, or your audience, these seem like fundamentally inconsistent desires to me.
That's what I was trying to say. That's what I mean when I say it frustrates me when people are angry that they're losing but they aren't playing the game that has a winning option. Please love yourselves. Please love your art. Please love your audience, however you need to define that audience to make that work. Here's my third shot at saying it. I don't know if it's better than the other two. If not, some time I'll try again.
