Wey hey! Back after an absence. Shall I start my posts with that lovely phrase, ‘Dear Diary…’, thereby keeping at bay the terrible affliction of Blogger’s Block (why?…for whom? …the futility of the artistic life…oh, woe is me!).
We have a new wave of internet democracy, and each of us has a voice (a Face, a Twitter, a Blog). There is wonder and power in it – a chance for each of us to be heard. But my, the frenzy of it all! Each of us shouting to be heard, with only the most conscientious taking time to listen to her neighbour’s voice. It brings to mind those raucous images of tens of thousands of jostling seabirds, all shouting out their own stories, each desperate to be noticed and singled out. The lucky pelican may win the Turner Prize, another may be spotted by a dealer (Saatchi even), the bird with the most beautiful pouch will become a supermodel, and the laconic pelican with a career in television presenting will win a million followers. And the rest of us…
…I once was walking on my favourite beach in Wales, when something caught my eye. I bent down and picked, from amongst the million pebbles, a round, smooth, palm-sized stone. On it, an artist had drawn a sandalled foot, each toe perfectly contained within the curve of the rounded stone.
It was truly like finding an incredible treasure, and my excitement over it has never dulled. It sits on my hearth, a small work of art whose maker I will never know. Had I stumbled on an undiscovered Picasso in a junk shop, I would not have been as thrilled (though a lot richer).
The act of art requires constant unquestioning faith. We have to create in the absolute belief that, of all the thousands of pebbles on the beach, our one small pebble will be found and treasured. Whether it be a blog, an oil painting, a chance comment, or a way of life, seeds will be sown. We need to dream, not of the seedlings, but of future forests.
And without creative forests, our world cannot survive.
