Clubbing it without killing it
I once decided to find an arts organization to join while living in a fairly large city, just a place to brush shoulders with other artists of similar interests. There were several such clubs and I hardly knew where to begin to find the most suitable one.
The first group was called a 'guild,' which put me in mind of the Middle Ages. To check it out, I went to a guild party at one of the officers' homes during the holidays. I was the youngest person there and I was also one of the very few males. The ladies were quite sweet, reminding me of "Clara" on the Andy Griffith Show. That evening, we listened to the club president play songs like "Green Sleeves" on the piano. She'd look back and smile, and we'd all smile back at her and nod.
The group was nice enough, but I didn't much battery charge from it, so I dropped out after a few visits.
The next art group I tried was younger and full of passionate artists. These were firebrands, radical social activists and arts advocates. They railed at city hall meetings about why the city didn't provide artists a free place to work, and why there wasn't more art displayed around town. They railed at each other in our meetings. Some had taken one-name names such as “Dakota” to signify their commitment to creativity. They whisked around town like movie stars from the 1940s, posing tragically against whatever backdrop most complemented their body piercings.
Since I was a traditional artist – in the sense that I still used paint and paper without flames or cattle prods – I was never fully accepted into the brotherhood. Plus, I dressed and wore my hair in a bland way, so that was the last strike against me.
Now, had I wrapped a human skull in barbed wire and rolled it across a busy street, I might've shown enough class to fit in. I never did, so eventually I lost interest and quit.
The third group was an outfit that had its own gallery space. It was mostly older folks who'd known each other for decades. There was no barbed wire used in this group. Artists happily painted barns on sunny hillsides or saw palmettos and lazy egrets. They were very kind folks, but my work didn't exactly jibe with theirs.
Finally I hit upon an idea: Why not find try an art directors-type club where there's all sorts of creative folks – illustrators, designers, photographers and wordsmiths? Why, I wouldn't be able to walk through the room without tripping on all that camaraderie and creativity.
Yet, at each event, I halfway felt like the shoeshine man on the red carpet at the Oscars. Illustrators, designers and animators did not simply arrive; they made arrivals. They whooshed past and laughed heartily, watching others arrive through narrowed eyes.
I actually overheard one fellow tell an admirer that "being an illustrator was like being a rock star." This was news to me, as I'd been a full-time illustrator for five years and had no $100-a-day smack habit, supermodel wife or gold records.
Eventually, I came to the conclusion that what I was looking for might not exist. At least, it was not common. And what was 'it'? Simply brushing shoulders with other artists of similar convictions occasionally. Just seeing who was tending the distant fires. Just keeping each other stoked up.
The problem with getting a bunch of artists together (just like getting together a bunch of stamp collectors or a whiffle ball club) is anytime people gather, someone wants to hold an election and draft by-laws. The whole process goes downhill from there.
Years later, I did come across a remarkable art group who avoided this trap. They formed their group along the Krishnamurti school of thought. Krishnamurti was the fellow whose philosophy inspired Bruce Lee to revolutionize the martial arts.
Basically, K’s whole thing is that truth is a "pathless land" and anyone who claimed to be a fully deputized officer representing the landowner was usually the most lost of all. So this aforementioned art group set up with no leader, by-laws, committees or officers.
The result? They paint every day. The studio is an admirable hotbed of activity.
By the time I found the group, though, I'd discovered something else: Truth is, I'm not much of a joiner, though I do still enjoy contact with artist friends.
Enter the Internet and the cell phone. It's as easy to communicate with someone in Algiers as the person across town, and often easier. With blogs and chat rooms, you can discuss watercolor paper all night if you're so inclined.
That – coupled with cell phones – brings an art circle closer.
Today, I have a motley crew of artist friends who inspire and interest me. They've all over the country, too, in upstate New York, Nashville, Atlanta and across the nation.
We e-mail, swap digital photos of paintings and chat often. With cell phones, long distance means nothing anymore. You can talk to your art friends every day if you like.
I came to the realization, that, for me, art is a more or less a solitary pursuit. While it's good to brush shoulders with artist pals, the meat of the work is done in the wee hours, away from the crowd.
Finding a good art group is tricky. Especially if you live in a small town as I do today. But maybe you don't really have to find a local group of artists so much as just a few good ones – wherever there are.