Thursday, October 21, 2010

Just some thoughts

I have always and forever thought of myself as an artist. As a 6 year-old first grader, a 16 year-old high school student, even after I had my son. (I was “Mom” first, artist second). I make my living as a textile designer but I still consider myself an artist. There is a difference. I think about line, form, color. I design quilts in my dreams. I doodle and imagine that element as part of a fabric design.



Often this thought has struck me: is there a limited need for artists in the world?

 
Part of this question is economic. When I announced at 6 that I was going to be an artist when I grew up, I was encouraged. Then as I began high school and college, I was encouraged to find and study something “to fall back on”. My Dad, however told me I did not need anything to fall back on if I were successful. I never wanted to do anything else, so I have never had anything to fall back on. I have been employed as a creative for most of my adult life, even when I was an administrative assistant. Creative thinkers can add to any field and any position.

 
What created this question? I saw an animated short on the internet. It was simple, beautiful, thoughtful. There are so very many fantastic artists in the world: writers, painters, jewelry makers, animators, photographers. The internet will bring them from all over the world into your home. Is there enough paying work to keep them all fed? Do we need to make money from our art to be successful?




I feel artistically successful when I am creating something that turns out either just like I imagined it, or better.




I believe we need more artists in the world.

1 comment:

Tangles of Thread said...

I agree that we need more people passionate about creating beautiful and useful things, foods, and performances. As long as there are consumables involved in any of those, the creative person will always have employment. While beauty for beauty's sake is perhaps a bit harder to quantify, what woman doesn't love a beautiful, sturdy handbag? And when my brother-in-law cooked for us, good memories flowed.