I have written about what artists and the public at large have in common. It is interesting to focus on our similarities, that which unites, rather than divides. But now I thought it necessary to be fair and balanced, and share some of the differences. It is what makes us artists different than the rest of you folks.
Artists don't do very well at paintball. They will miss their target, then get hit, all because they stood there looking at the "really cool looking splotch" they left on the wall. They cannot be trusted to paint around your house, unless you don't mind being the only one on your block with a garage door sporting a mural of a deer. Neither can they use the sky to foretell weather. They do not know how to look for cold fronts. Just clouds that look like fluffy little animals.
How many diner patrons have seen me drawing on my napkin instead of using it to wipe my chin? Conservatively hundreds, though I rarely keep those napkins. I live in a world where that pens mightier than the sword can draw very poorly, where that I really am my own worst critic, and "masterpieces" do not (yet) exist. So in order to feel "normal" I guess I have to act just a little bit weird. It seems to go with the territory.
Artists are not as likely to be excited about doing household chores. If we ever seem to, it isn't what you might think. To you it may appear we are "mowing the lawn." But we are not mowing it, we are "sculpting" it. We are never going to like taking out the trash. If we do this with a smile on our face, beware. It's probably because we are searching for that one piece of trash that will complete our weirdest sculpture. Also, I've seen how most people butter their bread, and trust me, they don't draw a face in it with the knife.
Other telltale signs are: piling up food on our plate to resemble Sugarloaf Mountain, or even the more serious condition of flinging neopolitan ice cream or orange sherbet onto the wall. If we are asked to do the laundry, we feel we have got to tie dye. And as far as cooking goes, forget it. We simply must know what a little bit of everything in a stew tastes like. I don't know, maybe it's a disease? I wish I could dig a hole without it having to look like a "work of art."
If you see my studio a mess, it is a "collage." Yet the objects sitting on my coffee table have to "balance." I'm not sure how I can explain that. Make a pot of beans? Sure, but couldn't I just glue them together into a picture of something like, say, a rooster? And the same goes for just about everything else in the cupboard we find "colorful or shapely."
Wanna drive an artist nuts? Tell him you painted your room with "expanding hydrocentric circles interlapping with neo-dimensional proportion." The gibberish you spoke to him won't make any rational, analytical sense, but he will become giddy, and gleefully try to take the thought "a step further."
