Are You Creating Art?

The air smells of suntan lotion and barbecue sauce and after spending the majority of the past day walking through an outdoor sculpture park these words from Michelangelo continue to swirl in my mind. He once wrote when asked about his sculpting: "The marble not yet carved can hold the form of every thought the greatest artist has." "The marble not yet carved can hold the form of every thought the greatest artist has." Let's dissect Michelangelo's words and talk a bit about creating art. I mean, what does creating art mean anyway? I just poured some fancy Kauai peaberry coffee and am enjoying the sweet maple syrup that a student gifted me before the close of the  past school year. I'll confess… I may (okay I do) work too much. I'm either writing something, teaching something, or thinking of something work-related. But a recent conversation with my friend Vlad at the Stormking Art Center in New York — a wide expansive field where gigantic abstract sculptures contrast with the rolling hills of the Hudson River Valley — put me in irons. We asked each other this simple question: Are we creating art?   I couldn't honestly answer the question. Why? Because I had my head down with so much work since the beginning of the year that I couldn't tell if I had created art or just kept busy. In the past six months, for instance, I taught writing full-time, graduated from a VERY intensive yoga-teacher training program, built up the marketing platform for a brilliant online school, and spent my weekends writing. I've done a lot, for sure, but did I create art? Stealing Sideways Picasso said that good artists copy and great artists steal. Why is stealing harder? Because when we steal as an artist, we first must really come to know that which we are stealing. Picasso, for instance, didn't just decide to draw some cubes on canvas. Instead, he devoured art history like a bowl of cereal. He took in this knowledge, stole little bits from here and there and then created anew. Tim O'Brien, one of my favorite American writers, also steals. He steals tangentially. He marinates in the syntax of other writers from other genres and backgrounds and then composes one true sentence and another and another and, when deconstructed, his writing mirrors those who he studied. I have to admit, that's how I write, as well, which is why this past sentence includes one of O'Brien's favorite literary devices: polysyndeton, the repetitive use of conjunction for dramatic effect (e.g. and, or, but, etc). Other writers from Kerouac to Maslow stole much of their ideas by taking eastern philosophy and molding it into something westerners could digest. The question is, what can you steal? What do you know so well which you could take out of context and re-frame it in a way that inspires a new crowd? What Are You Carving? There's a marble stone that only you can carve, your Excalibur per say, as Michelangelo reminds us: "The marble not yet carved can hold the form of every thought the greatest artist has." There's a genius inside of you comprised of what you do and what comes your way and how you act and react. It's your lotus flower that rises out of the beautiful muck in your life. The question isn't if you've found your marble stone. The question is, have you picked up the chisel? Standing Naked in the Rain Creating art comes from being real and vulnerable. Sounds easy, but it's not. Why? Because creating art is dangerous. There's no guarantee that what you create will impact people. There's no guarantee that it will bring in money. There's no guarantee that you won't fail miserably and get laughed at by the whole world. Creating art is life on a pogo stick. Creating art is a dance in the rain.