You Can't Be All Things to All People :: Open Thread

As I try to do each year about this time, as my Christmas gift to myself, I'm re-reading a book I've enjoyed in the past. I particularly enjoy discovering what I missed the first (or second or third time around). This year the book is "The Picture of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde, and while I'm a bit surprised by the mechanics of the book (didn't quite remember it seeming such a chunky novel the last time), the dialog never disappoints.

One particular bit of musing by Lord Henry Wotton (Wilde's alter-ego in the story) seemed it might make for interesting discussion here. In the age of Warhol's children, where it's not enough to be a well-respected artist...one is also expected to be a bit of a celebrity at a certain strata (did you hear who Jeff showed up with at Larry's party?), this passage stood out for me. Talking to his recent acquaintance, Dorian Gray, Lord Henry Wotton considers Mr. Gray's complaint about their mutual friend, the painter Basil Hallward:

"Dear Basil! I have not laid eyes on him for a week. It is rather horrid of me, as he has sent me my portrait in the most wonderful frame, specially designed by himself, and, though I am a little jealous of the picture for being a whole month younger than I am, I must admit that I delight in it. Perhaps you had better write to him. I don't want to see him alone. He says things that annoy me. He gives me good advice."

Lord Henry smiled. "People are very fond of giving away what they need most themselves. It is what I call the depth of generosity."

"Oh, Basil is the best of fellows, but he seems to me to be just a bit of a Philistine. Since I have known you, Harry, I have discovered that."

"Basil, my dear boy, puts everything that is charming in him into his work. The consequence is that he has nothing left for life but his prejudices, his principles, and his common sense. The only artsits I have every known who are personally delightful, are bad artists. Good artists exist simply in what they make, and consequently are perfectly uninteresting in what they are. A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical of all creatures. But inferior poets are absolutely fascinating. The worse their rhymes are, the more picturesque they look. The mere fact of having published a book of second-rate sonnets makes a man quite irresistible. He lives the poetry that he cannot write. The others write they poetry that they dare not realize."

Indeed, many of my favorite artists look and generally act far less interesting than the stereotypical artistes you'll find in literature or films. We always chuckle at how the art world is portrayed in movies, as if it were comprised of half fashion models / half circus freaks. The truth is that most good artists I know (and indeed most of the talented people in the art world in general) would pass unnoticed walking through your average shopping mall in the Mid-West. Talk with them in their studio, though, or walk with them through a museum talking about the work therein, and they'll often simply blow your mind. It is about the art, after all.

Consider this an open thread on Lord Henry's theory that "Good artists exist simply in what they make, and consequently are perfectly uninteresting in what they are."