Okay, here’s a digression you won’t see too often. This is about my reaction to – wait for it – a comic book. Okay, more specifically, a manga – a Japanese comic book, translated to English. Guilty confession time (who am I kidding? I never feel guilt.) – I read more manga than almost any other form of literature. I fell in love with the genre after reading Love Hina by Ken Akamatsu, and I’ve never stopped, really. But this one is different, this one hit me hard.
Blue Period is written and illustrated by Tsubasa Yamaguchi, and it’s amazing. The story revolves around Yatora, his discovery of art as a high school student, and his subsequent decision to go all in to become an artist. It has a very odd cast of characters (not your typical manga fare), no romantic thread that I can trace, no sex (not even fan-service), and is absolutely dead-on in its treatment of art, art students and the art world in general. The author reveals her deep love of art and the crazy characters that make it, but more than that, she shows very clearly how artists are perceived by society in general and even how artists see each other. One of the themes of the work is the difference between ‘talent’ and ‘hard work’. Yatora believes he has no talent, and so must work hard just to keep up, yet he consistently outpaces many of his classmates and produces incredible artwork. His classmates and teachers, on the other hand, continuously chide him for thinking that ‘talented’ people have it easy in the art world. Nothing could be further from the truth. Hard work is required to advance your art, no matter how talented you are.
Am I never going to see the end of my embarrassment? Not only have I always thought the same way about ‘talented’ people, but I myself am talented, and should’ve seen through the argument years ago. Uuurrg. In fact, the mistaken belief that ‘you’re so talented, things should come easily to you’ was drilled so deep into my thinking as a child, that even after I started ranting against the concept, I was still accepting it implicitly. Coupled with an overblown sense of my own worth as a smart person, I not only stifled any possibility of improvement in my artforms, but I readily accepted the ‘fact’ that I already knew everything I needed to know and could produce any number of drawings, paintings, novels, what have you, without effort or thought. Holy shit, I’m an idiot. My delusions went so damn deep, I begin to wonder if I’ll ever find the bottom. Makes me want to dig a hole, jump in and pull the dirt in over me.
Nah. I’m not the self-destructive type, except by accident. But that leaves me with the same question I ask myself when these feelings and thoughts blindside me like this – so, what now? I mean, I could wail and rant for days about how cruel the world is and why was I born if only to suffer, and crap like that. Screw it. I’m done crying. So, really, what now? What steps can I take to make this better, to make sure I don’t end up here again? That’s actually a useful question.
I already have a very helpful pattern built up of writing every day (if possible), which has saved my life and my sanity on more than one occasion, thank you. I need to do the same thing with a sketchbook journal – just a few minutes a day drawing something, anything that comes to mind or presents itself to me. I know for a fact that my art sort of froze in place sometime in my mid-to-late twenties, mostly because I gave up the habit of sketching whenever I had an odd minute. I’m currently rediscovering my body’s ability to heal itself by working out several days a week – and I’m 64. Don’t try to tell me I can’t get my art back, I’ll kick your ass.
I’m finding that the trick is to create small habits and apply them consistently. Start with one, then move to two, three and four until you have the direction of your time and your life set to the course you choose. Then all you do is refine and maintain. Seems ridiculously simple, doesn’t it? And it is simple in concept. But simple doesn’t mean easy. I promise you, it’s not remotely easy. Very often, I find myself sitting down on a bench at the gym, thinking – I’m really tired, I just wanna go home. But I get up and do at least one more exercise. And that’s the key, right there: when you want to quit, do at least one more. As I stated in a previous blog, ‘embrace the pain’. Because it’s only by embracing the small, momentary pain of doing the work we don’t want to do, but know we should, that we ever make progress.
Anthony Trollope famously said, “A small daily task, if it be really daily, will beat the labours of a spasmodic Hercules.” The man should know. He was a successful bank examiner who penned hundreds of popular books while riding the trains back and forth on his job. Almost all artists, for the last two hundred years or so at least, have had to hold down regular, boring day jobs in order to live, creating their art in the time left to them at the end of the day. The lucky ones (the few) have been catapulted to fame and the ability to do their work full time.
Artists scribbling away in a dingy, lonely garret or living like hermits surrounded by bottles of paint, turpentine and brushes while they labored on their ‘masterpieces’ is a fantasy – mostly a flat-out lie. Real artists – the successful ones – learn the truth that genius means nothing, talent is useless, unless you can settle in to the hard work of mastering your craft, doing it every day without fail and turning out dozens, hundreds, even thousands of works, most of which will never be seen. Did you know that it’s estimated that Picasso turned out over 150,000 paintings and other works during his life? That is much of the reason that we remember him.
It’s not enough to follow your passion. It’s not enough to be talented, or even a genius. Yes, it makes the process a touch easier, but if you want to make an impact, if you want your art to be recognized and sought after, you need to work at it diligently. There is no easier road. I am surprised, embarrassed and tickled to learn this lesson (again) from the oddest of sources – a comic book. My own ‘Blue Period’ is still in full swing. I take great comfort in that fact.
Onward my friends, to victory.
bcd