Art is a vehicle. The technique, the medium, the execution is there to get you to a destination. But, dear Fellow Artist, where are you taking me? Is it a place of meaning, of genuine personal intention and importance? Is it somewhere that will make me a better person, thrill me, humor me, teach me, or take me to something new? Or are you just trying to impress me with your ride?
I can’t make personal art unless there’s something inside me—a revelation or realization—that’s risen up in me and has to get out. That’s worthy of getting out. That I’m willing to develop the feeling and understanding for, including the necessary symbolism to express it. Because I recognize what I’m doing when I move those pixels around on the screen. I’m just driving that vehicle called art. And my destination has (and even is) meaning.
This album cover couldn’t have been created without soul. Erick let me listen to the music early, allowing me to ponder track titles and sounds that helped an image to meaningfully form inside of me. I felt a sense of loss in the music, of a winter landscape traversed by a weary pilgrim who’s lost love still watches over him from the heavens. I think the piece works because, yes, there’s a decent technical execution here, but the real life underlying all of it is what makes the technical vehicle of it all worth it.
I’ve driven different types of creative vehicles toward different creative destinations. I’ve been willing to experiment with what kind of vehicle feels right for each trip—sometimes driving the viewer to a humorous locale, sometimes to a spiritual oasis, sometimes to a place of hitherto unexpressed love and appreciation for someone or something. And all in the hopes that when I get there—when I’ve taken you there with me—you’ll absorb the lay of the land with me, extending the cartography of your soul with mine.
But I’ve been noticing a serious problem in some corners of the art world. There are some artists—some pros and upcoming hopefuls—who seem only interested in recklessly piloting slick but heartless art rigs to creatively soulless destinations. These are the technicians who have learned (or hope to learn) to render anything imaginable, but deliver no real or worthwhile meaning in the end of their works. These creatives are so busy snatching up tips and tricks that they miss out on the real joys and purposes of art. It’s as if they think owning those tips and tricks alone will make them real artists. And for some, if any meaning or symbolism makes it into their art, it’s often so cerebrally cobbled together that it has no palpable feeling, no beating heart per say, at its core.
This is a piece of mine that I question the soulfulness of. On the one hand I love the intensity of the vampire, the compositional design, colors, and subtlety of the shadow play and bat forms. On the other, I knew I was indulging my inner technician too much while executing it. That’s not always or inherently bad, but I wanted to be impressive with this work, to display my current level of technical prowess to the world, almost as if that alone justified its existence. I can do better. The soul-saving grace of the piece is three-fold: 1) It was a good technical exercise, 2) It does lend some reference, although very hidden, to things deeply meaningful to me, and 3) I recognized my need to slow down and be more humble after creating it.
Part of the problem may be that art schools and trade programs are teaching us how to draw, paint, and sculpt, but not enough how creativity works, what creativity is, or how to let your soul sing thereby. It seems assumed that the art student inherently knows how to access inspiration, or perhaps is expected to enter school so full of unique ideas ready to be voiced that they don’t have to learn or spend any effort on understanding and recognizing different creative impulses, inspiration in its many forms, and how to work with them. Whatever the source of this issue, we artists ought to take greater care on the front-end of our creative processes to ensure a lasting destination is arrived at with each art piece.
Another piece I’m very proud of because of its soul. I had to search via my sketching process until I’d uncovered something that effectively voiced the precious love inside my little one. The purity of caring in the snuggle can be felt by looking at the piece. This genuine communication with the viewer is a real destination. The spacial depth, color, and treatment of form draws the viewer in, but when you arrive at the love within the work, you’ve found something genuine.
I must add here that I recognize that sometimes an artist won’t have room for this creative drive to fully shine. The destination is often pre-determined when one is a working artist, creating something for a client or employer’s end goal. But even in professional cases, there’s often room for an artist to drive intentionally toward a more meaningful endpoint, or at least show the client/employer the possibility of a better route leading to a richer destination. Clients and employers are better served by this kind of artist, even if the proposed, better course ends up redirected.
Another part of the problem may be that slickness of execution is what too many viewers or purveyors of media seek. It’s what we’re taught to be attracted to in television ads, movie trailers, and comic covers. Too many artists and viewers don’t care if a work has soul as long as it delivers a paroxysm of impressive, albeit momentary, sensory input of one kind or another. There may be a nod to a good message or meaningful content here or there, but it’s often so overwhelmed by tripe and flashiness that the meaning is all but lost in the end. That kind of art only spins its wheels.
As you can see above, I too have been guilty of piloting the slick rig with little thought of taking things to a worthy destination. It can be a fun ride once in awhile. And sometimes a project calls for it. All I’m saying is that I’m now becoming increasingly aware of the need for a very careful, very meaningful, even patient and revelatory start to my personal artworks. Art always comes out best when it’s got a real depth of soul, a genuine purpose for its existence. Then it becomes an entity that doesn’t just flash for a second in your face but something that speaks to you, even holds a conversation with you, one that can last and become a part of you and others. Because then it’s really taken you somewhere. And the artistry of it was only a vehicle after all, a means to a worthwhile end 🙂
Brandon Miltgen
Portfolio • Drawing Faith • Coroflot • Society 6
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