57Heaven and Hell

Without art, the crudeness of reality would make the world unbearable.

—George Bernard Shaw

Painter Edvard Munch (of The Scream fame) was also an avid photographer; however, he did not quite consider photography and painting as equally worthy forms of art, saying that the camera will never compete with the brush and palette “until such time as photography can be taken to Heaven or Hell.” As many photographers will surely attest, this has already happened, many times. Indeed, this is not unique to photography or painting, but can be said of any form of creative expression. This is because creative epiphanies often align themselves with the moods of the artist. There is a kind of creativity that comes when the mind is calm and free from concerns, and there is also a kind that reveals itself only in the darkest depths of grief and depression. The latter, I find, seems to produce the most profound realizations of all, perhaps out of necessity, as those subjected to such states in their most extreme may not survive the experience if not compelled to creative, defiant action by such elevated thoughts.

Art was probably conceived exactly for such things—as a means of enriching life through beauty, as well as expressing what is sacred to a society or an individual, and in contrast to lesser states. To artists, art is both a product and an occupation, and each has its own rewards. Among other benefits, artmaking gives an artist a private inner world where the failings of the person, of humanity, and of the world become subordinate to creative expression—a perspective from which one may consider the mysteries, beauty, and tragedies of existence and place them willfully in a context of the artist’s choosing. Put another way, although artists participate in the world as any other conscious being, in making art they are also afforded, at least temporarily, the privileged perspective of an outsider. To those who care, feel, and acknowledge their own flaws and fallibility, such a world within can be a refuge, and a place for self-healing.

If you wonder why my works consistently appear beautiful and serene despite the ups and downs of life, despite experiencing loss, and despite caring about so many injustices in the world—this is why. Creative work offers me shelter from the proverbial storm, a place within that is my own for as long as I am alive, independent of circumstances. This perspective of an artist, an outsider, allows me to accept life’s lesser things and to place them in balance with more elevated notions and knowledge—knowledge of the vastness, beauty, and terrors of existence, and of my own insignificance—knowledge of the transience of my own life, and of my ability to shape my experiences while I am alive, which I believe is the most comforting and liberating acknowledgment that one may come to.