for Angelica – because she asked
It’s said that an artist has ‘influences’ – the works or philosophies of other artists, writers, musicians, etc. that inform or flavor his work. A great deal of an artist’s oeuvre can be understood by reference to his influences. Not all artists have mentors, though many do – but all of them have influences. Some influences are good – some are not. Some lead the artist down dark paths, or into destructive behaviors. Those artists that fall into darkness tend not to live very long. We tell our children to be careful who they associate with, for much the same reason. Young writers and many young artists often intentionally copy the style, voice or composition choices of others they admire. Of course, they must outgrow this phase in order to find their own voice, but their later styles often include some of the flavor of their earlier models.
So, who are my influences?
There are a great number of writers, artists, scientists, philosophers and composers that I admire, including: Hemingway, Picasso, Einstein, Socrates, Bach, Tolkien, Van Gogh, Newton, Plato and Mozart. Each has influenced me to a greater or lesser extent. I feel I understand them, understand their work, and how they came to their separate visions. We won’t even go into Shakespeare in this rant. But far and away, the most influential men I have studied (and yes, they have all been men), have been Benjamin Franklin, C.S. Lewis, Richard Feynman, Ludwig van Beethoven and Leonardo DaVinci. Do you see the difference in type as well as in scope? Let me elaborate.
Each man from the first list was a recognized genius, a ground-breaking thinker as well as profoundly expert in his field. Some led lives of wealth, others poverty – some were recognized in their own time, some only after death – a few were quiet and retiring, most were bold and expressive. But they all share one trait which might not be immediately obvious: they were good at one thing, and generally only one. They were specialists – a term we have come to associate with high achievement and great intellect in this country.
The men from the second list were all generalists. Generalists can have anything from a few to a few dozen subjects they explore. This would seem to water down all of the subjects, making advancement unlikely. We tend not to expect much in the way of innovation from generalists – we are wrong. Many of the most powerful thinkers in history have been masters of more than one subject. Of the aforementioned group, only one – Lewis – had only two or three strong subjects. Beethoven is not an obvious candidate, but his work influenced so much of what music became for the next hundred years, and his work changed so much over his own lifetime, that I include him. Franklin and Feynman were polymaths – good or influential, sometimes even groundbreaking in many different subjects and disciplines. Da Vinci, of course, is the prime example of the term ‘Renaissance Man’. I have studied these men and their work over the years because they spoke to me most strongly, more clearly than any others. I am also a generalist. In one way or another I have tried to emulate their works, learn their styles and see their visions more clearly. I have no idea how close I’ve come to replicating their styles (probably not very), but I know that some fragmentary essence of each has informed my own work over the years. I also know that I’ve worn out a lot of ears and many people’s patience while expounding upon this or that work or idea of theirs. But mostly, up to this point, it’s just been a lot of talk. I hope to change that at last.
You see, for far too long, I let my art and my mind grow stagnant – feeble, even. There were any number of reasons for this, none of them good, and the final result was that I entered into a delusional state, where I believed I was just one step away from great fame and influence, that all my dreams would come true if I just believed hard enough, if I could get the Universe to cough them up, without any sweat or even apparent effort on my own part. In other words, I became functionally insane. I could still carry on a coherent conversation, though people quickly tired of my self-aggrandizing attitudes. I could hold down a job, though I didn’t really see the point. I talked incessantly of the great things I would do – and did none of them. My brain continually ran in smaller and smaller circles, self-referential, self-congratulatory, self-deluding. The worst part of the whole business was that I was blind to all of this. I could see nothing around me. I was too far gone.
About twelve years ago, I woke up. I won’t go into any great detail here, except to say that I suddenly knew how Rip Van Winkle must have felt. Over the ensuing years, as my mind has healed and my art has recovered, I have felt like the prisoner in Plato’s Cave of Shadows – able to see and understand the lie that most people call a normal life, at long last free to follow my own way. Since then, I have written two novels, a novella, a number of short stories, and I continue to push forward on other writing projects. My drawing is becoming easier, freer – I can move back into paints soon. I am finally doing many of the things that I only ‘planned’ to do earlier. And I begin to fully understand some of the things that my influences have had to say regarding art and life. I am chagrined that it has taken me so long to get to this point, but I am grateful that I am, at last, here.
My outlook is better, my future brighter on this, the other side of madness. I don’t mean to say that things will get better or even easier…just that my art will at last begin to live on its own. And that, in my own thinking, is worth all the pain and triumph. I think Ben, Jack, Dick, Ludwig and Leo would agree.
bcd