The Importance of Being Annonymous

There's not enough honesty in this world.

My boss once brilliantly said, "If truth were deodorant, most people would stink." She's onto something there.

People feel so much pressure to be good, passive human beings; but how many of us can be passive? I'm no Alpha, but I'm no Beta, either - surely, I cannot be alone in feeling that way.


What's funny, though, is how people regard you before they know who you are. It's like that girl at work who I would sometimes see walking around the building. Without fail, she would always eye me up and down, smirk judgmentally and, if we had to communicate for some reason, speak condescendingly to me. That changed the day she realized what team I work with and what role I happen to have within it. Her initial behavior was the truth. She didn't like my forever-unkempt hair, or maybe it was the lack of make-up on my face or my eclectic style. She judged me on that, and, while initially I found it amusing when she suddenly avoided eye contact and her tone changed to a polite whisper, after a while, I kind of preferred the judge-y behavior. At least it was honest - someone who takes a lot of time to look impeccable maybe wouldn't have much respect for someone who would rather spend her morning running than sprucing up. She had no problem being aggressive before she found out my name, when I was still anonymous to her. It gave me a chance to raise an eyebrow at her superficiality.

My name, ha! Like anywhere outside this company it means anything. I am neither famous nor actually important. The label I work for is exceptional, and through this job I shine, but what is Pedigree without a little pretension? Perhaps we all let it get to our heads a bit and maybe that's dangerous.

If I ever did create something worthy of being judged by others, I don't think I'd put my name on it anymore. There was a time I would have, but that ship sailed as I learned how people change their tone when they know they're speaking to you regarding your work. I even want the gender of the pseudonym to be androgynous and left to interpretation. I want the harshest criticism spoken plainly and in an impassioned manner.

I want that regarding anything I'd create.

Talent Vs Aesthetic

 not the painting described below

    Recently, my fiancé and I attended an art show where someone we love was co-DJing. We showed up, drank some wine, nibbled on horsdevours, and discussed art. When we'd made our way through the gallery, we continued wandering the streets of Downtown Long Beach hungry for more art and a restless drive, hopping from one art show to the next, not quite able to get our fill. Were our interests piqued or were we bored? Surprisingly, and rather unfortunately, the difference between the two was difficult to determine.
     We found ourselves in one particular gallery looking at an abstract on a canvas so huge, it took up the entire wall of the alcove in which it hung. It was a play on colors: strong reds, three different shades of blue, some green thrown in, and organic looking black lines (for stability, I suppose). It what was I think of as a Rorschach test but in a painting form; what you see might depend on your mindset.
    My parents had a similar painting which my uncle had made in his "reckless-artist-turned-political-activist-turned-home-wrecker" phase, reached somewhere in his mid to late twenties. My mom always swears she sees the naked body of a married woman he was known for seducing within it. I see a fabulous dress and the blurry colors of lights on a busy street at night, after a rain. Like I said, everyone sees what's already inside their mind. My mom sees her brother's annoyingly carefree lifestyle. I see a party and the after effects of rain.
     There was a moment of silence while we each contemplated our own thoughts, then Tim asked, "Wouldn't it be wonderful if someone just gave us a piece of art like this?"
     I disagreed.
      "Why? It's art. It's interesting. It's colorful. It takes up a lot of wall space. What more would you want?"
    I told him about the painting in my parents' house, how everyone saw something different.
     "Exactly," he urged, "It's a conversation piece."
     "Yeah, but then you're stuck having the same conversation with guests over and over again. It's very monotonous. How many times can you talk about a piece of art until you do what my parents did: stick it in the basement."
     "They stuck it in the billiards room."
     "Yeah, the basement."
    He called me a cynic and accused me of being merely jealous that I cannot paint like this, to which I responded that maybe I could make a painting like this, I just don't have the motivation to because it's not a goal whose achievement I aspire to. The end result isn't a desirable one, so why would it matter if I could or couldn't? And further more, would the jealousy of not having talent to do something really be a deterrent to the perception of a work of art, or whether something is considered a work of art?
     I consider cubism to be art, and Picasso to completely be more brilliant, creative, and talented far, far, far beyond my means. That doesn't mean I'd want "Les Demoiselles d'Avignon," hanging in my living room. Although, that would be an excellent conversation piece.

 

     What exactly is the difference between accepting something as art, appreciating the talent & the creativity it took to bring the idea to life and wanting something hanging on your wall? Is it merely the [in]ability to assign part of yourself to the art - I chose this therefor something within the art represents me, or the fear thereof? Or, is it that we can love and appreciate something while also looking down on it?