Beguiled– At West End Gallery
The greatest things she ever said to me was in 1943 after the opening of Oklahoma!, when I had unexpected, flamboyant success for a work I thought was only fair, after years of neglect for work that I thought was fine. I was bewildered and worried that my entire scale of values was untrustworthy. I talked to Martha. I remember the conversation well. It was in a Schrafft’s restaurant over a soda. I confessed that I had a burning desire to be excellent, but no faith that I could be.
Martha said to me, very quietly: “There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. As for you, Agnes, you have so far used about one-third of your talent.”
“But,” I said, “when I see my work I take for granted what other people value in it. I see only its ineptitude, inorganic flaws, and crudities. I am not pleased or satisfied.”
“No artist is pleased.”
“But then there is no satisfaction?”
“No satisfaction whatever at any time,” she cried out passionately. “There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”
— Agnes de Mille in her book Martha: The Life and Work of Martha Graham (1991)
This is a kind of a follow-up to yesterday’s post, albeit a shorter one. Well, I hope it’s shorter. I love the passage above the 1943 conversation between the legendary choreographers Martha Graham and Agnes de Mille and felt that it needed to be attached to yesterday’s post and to the Look Back post earlier this work featuring an early painting that greatly frustrated me when it was painted.
I admittedly know diddlysquat about dance but am always entranced by Graham’s musings on art. Like most of her writings and quoted words, this particular tidbit seemed filled with both wisdom and insight that applies to artists in any field. And I would think that the feelings of uncertainty and frustration with her work that de Mille expresses will ring true for most artists as well. I know them all too well.
Graham’s admonition to de Mille that she should not expect to find satisfaction, only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others might seem deflating at first blush. However, for someone who keeps expecting to find satisfaction only to find it absolutely elusive, the truth in this statement rings clear and loud.
I know that queer divine dissatisfaction and blessed unrest of which Graham speaks. It has been a constant marching partner for me for decades now. It is to the point that when I feel any satisfaction, I begin to get antsy with suspicions that I had hoodwinked myself into believing satisfaction is achievable or even desirable as an artist.
Oh, I use the term satisfaction every so often for some of my work when a piece has achieved all the potential it has within it. But that satisfaction is mighty limited to that piece and its moment. In fact, that satisfaction it offers only serves to increase my own overall dissatisfaction. When I see that a piece has reached its potential I begin to wonder why I had set limits on it in the first place.
Shouldn’t it have been meant to be more, to be better than it is?
Of course, I don’t know that I would be able to recognize if a piece exceeded that initial satisfaction, which I have now come to view as Fool’s Gold. Don’t know if could tell a gold nugget from a mere rock.
It’s a weird but wonderful way to live, looking for something you hope you never find. Paradoxically, there is something quite satisfying in it once you have come to terms with all the uncertainty and dissatisfaction that is all part of the package.
So, this morning, like most mornings, I find myself deeply dissatisfied which carries its own distinct and unusual satisfaction.
Does this make sense? Does it sound maddening?
It should. That’s the horror and glory of art.
Thanks for letting me blather a bit, to blurt out whatever comes to mind every morning. Without it, I might begin to feel a little too satisfied.
And we can’t have that, can we?
Okay, here’s the inevitable song for this morning. It can only be the rock classic I Can’t Get No (Satisfaction) from the Rolling Stones, right? Well, you’re half right. It may seem sacrilege for some to play a cover of that song, but I sometimes like to share covers of well-known songs, especially those covers that offer a distinct alternate take on the original. This acoustic version from South African singer/songwriter Alice Phoebe Lou is one of those unique alternate takes. The idea of this song without its signature and universally recognized guitar riff seems unthinkable but she somehow makes it work.
I am almost satisfied…
Redtree Times 