I am an artist. And- as having a blog suggests- I like playing with words as well. My curiosity it often piqued when I hear an epithet by “Anonymous.” I wonder who said it, and when. I try and imagine the context of the quote. Was it some philosopher- tucked away in their study, carefully rearranging the phrasing until they believe that they’ve got something that’ll stick in the popular consciousness? A reporter who made an offhand remark in a newspaper that, though the byline has been forgotten, the words have not? Some drunk in a pub who doesn’t even remember uttering the little nugget of wisdom?
We’ve had great men (and women) in the course of human history, who’ve done great things, and we remember their words- not because they were particularly eloquent- but because their words matched their deeds. I’m not talking about these people.
I’m talking about the people who said something that transcended their own lives and accomplishments, words that lived beyond them.
Up until the Renaissance, we have very few works of art with individual artists credited to their execution. Granted, for records to survive before printing technology, when most information was passed by word of mouth would have been extraordinary. But most artists believed that it was God’s will driving their hand, and that the self had very little to do with the final product. Who discovered three-point perspective? Contraposto? The Golden Ratio? Forced Perspective? The names are lost to history.
I know that there are very few basic principles left to discover in the visual arts, so I’m not holding out to uncover that one missing fundamental that will revolutionize the world of art, or the world at large. I’m not such a genius. But I’d like to do or say at least one thing that hasn’t been seen or heard before; something that’ll endure. I don’t think that’s too much to ask of myself.
Not everybody knows Whistler, but we all know his Mother when we see her.
But I won’t know what it is when I do or say it, or will I? Nah, probably not. I’ll just have to keep plugging along, creating art and writing words, so that when I’m dead and gone, the world can look at my body (of work. Don’t be gross) and choose their favorites.
I think that nagging doubt; that constant sense that we can do more or better, is a good thing. It pushes the artist to improve upon themselves, just as certainly as it pushes the Olympian to try and beat their previous time by 0.01 of a second. And, ultimately, the entire human race benefits, because that smarter or faster person has entered the gene pool. We didn’t all start walking upright at the same time…
We all look to leave behind a legacy, to make a mark on civilization- it’s a
uniquely human characteristic that’s especially pronounced amongst artists.
And sure, I’d like to be remembered, who wouldn’t? The idea of fading into obscurity- of being altogether forgotten- offends our every artistic and human sensibility. So, yes, please remember me after I’m gone (no, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon), at least for a few generations. That’d be nice. But my ultimate goal is a bit loftier:
Hopefully, someday I’ll be an Anonymous.
