Friday Dispatch: What Makes an Artist an Artist?

You already know how

Friday greetings,

For Hanukkah, M.J. gave me art supplies. A big box containing three smaller boxes, each of which contained a plethora of paper, brushes, paints, and two easels, one small one for a tabletop and one to bring outside. What an amazing gift! What an affirmation of my fledgling forays into art-making!

But a layer of complete and utter intimidation shrouded my gratitude. It was too much! My skills did not yet warrant such supplies, clearly intended for someone with more experience and talent. In a word, an artist.

What makes an artist an artist?

A-ha. That is the question.

I thanked M.J. and assured them that I loved the gift. Later, I looked more closely at its contents. Markers, colored pencils, and even oil pastels were one thing, but what did I know from acrylic and oil paints? Who was I to own a palette, an easel? How and where would I even begin, given I didn’t know what I was doing? Etc, etc. you get the idea. I didn’t have enough physical space to break out such serious materials, I reasoned, before stashing the whole big box in a closet. Oh, sweetheart.

That was two months ago. The box has remained on the shelf.

---

Last week, our Jewish Studio Project assignment was to make trading cards. Each of us will receive cards from a fellow member of our Creative Training Facilitation cohort, though none of us knows who got our name. There were no further instructions – we could make one or a whole set.

The folks in our cohort represent a broad spectrum of backgrounds; some, like me, have little or no formal artistic training, whereas others are visual artists with years of experience making and/or teaching art. One of the things that drew me to this training is that the former is not deemed better than the latter, and the core belief that we are all created creative. (Amen!) Add to this that beginner’s mind permeates the process and underscores JSP’s mission, which is to “cultivate creativity as a Jewish practice for spiritual connection and social transformation.” (Amen again!)

So last Friday afternoon, I moved the whole trading card operation to the dining room table where I’d have a bit more surface area than my desk. I slid the trading cards from their package and broke out the Mod Podge, scissors, and a stack of magazines. And I was kind of amazed at how quickly this trio of cards emerged.

I got so into it that I ended up continuing to play with the remaining cards, creating small Valentines for M.J., Aviva, and Pearl, plus a few extras. It was really meditative, calming, and fun.

---

So that happened.

And then, guess what? A couple of days ago, something else happened.

I put on some music. I took the box out of the closet.

I opened each pad of paper, each set of paints, and both easels.

How do you use acrylic paints, I wondered.

By using them, came the answer.

And so I did, first writing down an intention, and afterward, sitting across from the piece and witnessing my piece.

Imperfect Heart

An excerpt from my witness writing:

What is the heart holding in? What is the heart keeping out? Is that a tender layer of new growth? Is the darkness hindering it from growing or protecting it while it grows? Even when it's in pieces, the heart somehow remains whole… Somewhere in all of this, there is a way and the heart, this heart before me, says: Be patient.

---

A writer is a person who writes.

An artist is a person who makes art.

You already know how: Begin.

---

Shabbat Shalom and love,

Jena

---