As I have noted in other entries, my son, Nathan, is an artist, a ceramicist to be exact. There are, as we know, many different ‘arts.’ There is the art of leadership, there is the zen art of archery, there is the art of asking questions, there is the art of story-telling; musicians are artists, there are artists who use ink, stone, paint, and pencil. As I ponder the arts it seems to me that the practice of any art has certain general requirements quite regardless of whether we are dealing with the art of clay, or the art of carpentry or the art of medicine. Let’s see. The practice of an art requires discipline. For me, this means not approaching my art only when I am in the mood; becoming a master requires discipline. This discipline involves more than say practicing my art a certain number of hours a day; it requires a life-long discipline. Discipline is not easy and I am too often side-tracked by distraction(s). Discipline helps me stay committed and at the same time reminds me that commitment requires discipline.
Concentration is also required if I am going to master my art. Concentration seems to becoming more and more rare in our culture; I am talking about extended concentration, the type of concentration that is so focused that time seems to fly by. I have yet to meet an artist that when they are engaged in their art they are multi-tasking; actually they seem to be ‘lost’ in their art.
Patience is also required. Anyone who has ever attempted to master an art understands the need for patience. The person who is after quick results will never master an art. Again, however, our culture does not practice nor preach patience. When I was talking with a friend about starting a blog last February I was told not to write too much for people don’t have the patience to read a lot. We seem to think that we will miss out on something or that we will lose something if things don’t go quickly.
One’s art must also be of supreme importance; a border-line obsession I think. I met an author a number of years ago that disciplined himself to write every day and he would not stop until he had written one really good page; most days this would take him 8-10 hours of concentrated effort, patience and commitment – the writing of one good page was supremely important to him. People who read his works commented on how clear, concise, and simple his stories were.
One learns an art gradually. The pianist first learns the scales, the carpenter first learns how to plane wood; the potter learns how to work clay before learning to work the wheel. One builds one’s capacity by first learning the skills, then by practice one enhances one’s skills and builds more capacity. The artist knows that practice does not make perfect; practice makes permanent and so the artist is very careful about what is practiced. Pablo Casals practiced four hours a day when he was 90 years old; he did so, he said, because he wanted to improve.
All of these must work in harmony so that the person experiences wonder, contentment, enjoyment and satisfaction. Becoming an artist is, indeed, hard work, but it is not work that depletes the heart and soul; it is work that nurtures the heart and soul. What is the work that nurtures my heart and soul? Gentle reader, what is the work that nurtures your heart and soul? Is the work you do an ‘art’ or is it just ‘labor’?
Searcher-Seeker 