Not that it is impossible, just statistically very unlikely. Self-reliance implies making a living, and making paintings is by far not the best way to achieve this. And the more thing-like something is, the more forcefully it “triggers” the idea of money as its “true value” in our minds: it seems much more natural, unavoidable even, to equate the price of a painting with its “value” than the price of a book with the “value” of a novel contained in it.Īnd the other reason - as far as I see it, at least - is the connection between human dignity and self-reliance. One lies in the simple fact that paintings are objects - by their very nature, they are more thing-y than the products of many other creative processes - much more thing-like than poems, symphonies, or ideas. There is an obvious sense in which this elephant is a delusion, a chimera: we all know that money is not the only, and even not a very accurate, measure of value as the things stand now, “money” and “value” are fundamentally misaligned at all imaginable levels.Īnd yet this elephant wouldn’t just dissolve into thin air, like an honest chimera is supposed to do when you look at it closely, and I believe there are at least two reasons for that. Just imagine - just for the sake of argument - a society where the painting profession is, by some miracle, as secure and well-paying as, say, engineering and medicine are now - so that parents nudge their children to study painting as much as possible for the sake of a successful career - in this alternative reality, the need for painting would hardly be questioned (at least not with such regularity). The second elephant’s name is “money”, and it stands for the money’s uncanny ability to insinuate itself into life as the ultimate measure of “value”. As Hamlet would probably say, readiness is all. And so I have to let go of the fear of life without painting - if this is the only way to face these questions (which won’t just go away because I am afraid of them). Secondly, there is a wisdom and lightness in letting go - which doesn’t necessarily mean losing in fact, we all know that sometimes letting go is the only way not to lose. No “objective” answer can be complete without taking this into account. So does it mean that I am unable to address such questions, at least not objectively? I don’t know, but here is what makes it possible for me to try.įirst, the inner need to paint will always be an essential part of any answer, because it is a part of this world - and I am only one of the many, many people who experience it. Questioning this amounts to undermining the very heart of my life on some level, it feels like a suicide attempt. Indeed, everything I was trying to write seemed to be just rushing impatiently through all questions and possible viewpoints, and onwards, towards this ready-made answer, as though in an attempt to shout out as soon as possible: yes, of course, sure, there is a need for painting in the world! Edvard Munch. It makes no sense to contemplate a question if you know the answer in advance, and aren’t ready to accept any other - but my inner need to paint wouldn’t allow me to accept that there is no place for painting in the modern world. The first elephant is my own inner need to paint. So I decided to start with the elephants, if only to clear the pathway to what I actually want to tell you. And as with any elephant in the room, the only way out is through… (there is no elegance in mixing these metaphors, but I don’t feel too elegant right now anyway). No wonder I felt stuck - if there are two elephants in the room, not much space is left for anything else. It took me some time to see clearly that there were two huge stumbling blocks, which I was trying to avoid writing about, or even noticing. I had envisioned and announced the “Why painting” series of essays on this blog, but when it came to actual writing, I found myself stuck, deeply and, as it seemed, hopelessly.
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