
Struggle and Will– At the West End Gallery
There is scarcely any passion without struggle.
― Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays
Or, to put it a different way:
having nothing to struggle
against
they have nothing to struggle
for.
–Charles Bukowski
Just asking questions this morning. I certainly don’t have answers, at least, none that have actual proof of being correct. Most of my questions refer in some way to what I see in the painting at the top, a new piece titled Struggle and Will, which is included in my current show at the West End Gallery.
As the title suggests, I see it as being primarily about struggle and perseverance against opposing forces, both external and internal. The struggle between desire and reality. Between justice and injustice, right and wrong. Between truth and illusion. Between comfort and impoverishment.
I have been thinking lately about how passion, particularly creative passion, is often fed by these same struggles.
This begs the questions:
Is there creative passion without struggle?
What is the primary driver of creative passion?
Does sheer ability or craftsmanship equate to or even supersede passion? That leads to: Can the talented truly produce art without possessing passion?
I hope the answer to that last one is a no but then again, I don’t know.
I am certain I could answer from differing viewpoints on any of these questions and each would be valid, anecdotally. I suppose creative passion, like art in general, exists without rules. Creative passion might grow in someone who seems from the outside to have had an easy life with, if any, few struggles. Conversely, it may not exist at all in someone who has had to fight and struggle every day of their life.
Probably not a right answer to any of these. Maybe these aren’t even the right questions to be asking.
Maybe the question should be: What defines struggle?
Or: For what do you struggle?
Again, no answers here. But writing this just now, I am reminded of a line from the classic film The Third Man. Orson Welles, playing the post-war racketeer Harry Lime, speaks in a roundabout way about passion produced in struggle:
After all, it’s not that awful. You know what the fellow said – in Italy, for thirty years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, they had brotherly love, they had five hundred years of democracy and peace. And what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.
He was factually off a bit as the cuckoo clock is a German creation, but the point is well made.
Maybe passion does require struggle…
When I first started “looking” at your paintings Gary, it was the red tree, or the red roof, or the red chair that drew my eye… especially where, as in this painting the red tree jumps off the screen. But here lately my eye keeps going to the path, the trail… well worn, well travelled, wandering through the landscape… almost always unpeopled. but when the traveler is seen, always solitary. I’m beginning to think the path may be the real icon in all of your paintings… even the boat on the water ones seem to have an implied path.
I’ve often thought that while the Red Tree seems to be the subject of most of my work, it is often actually just a welcoming figure and an observer in the picture and that the other things that make it up– the paths and the hills and the waves and colors and textures, etc– are the real subjects. It’s gratifying when someone really looks beyond the Red Tree and recognizes the significance of these other things. Makes me feel as though things are coming across as I hope they might. So, thanks for pointing this out, Gary. All my best!