Redtree Times

Into the Blue Tangle- Now at Principle Gallery

We are one of only three species on our planet that can claim to be self-aware, yet self-delusion may be a more significant characteristic of our kind.

–Michael Crichton, Prey (2002)

I often find myself worrying about self-delusion.

Some of it comes from our delusions about our abilities and powers as humans to master and control nature or the new technologies we have unleashed on the world. Michael Crichton examined that theme in two of his books. Jurassic Park examined the hubris that we displayed in thinking we could control nature’s creation and Prey looked at our inability to see the consequences of the power of new technologies such as nanotechnology and artificial intelligence.

Call me skeptical but whenever I hear someone make boastful claims about our abilities to control anything, especially on a grand scale, I get a little tense.

So, while I may worry about our claims to have mastery over weather, AI, dinosaurs, outer space, or war, the self -delusion I find myself worrying most about is in my own judgement in my own little world. Primarily, how I see my own work.

I sometimes worry that my own self-delusion about some of my work blinds me to obvious flaws or deficiencies within it. Work that I think is among my best often receives less attention than I think it deserves.

I then find myself asking all sorts of questions.

Is the work itself not as good as I believe it to be?

Am I seeing or sensing something in it that doesn’t come across to the viewer?

Is it a matter of timing– the wrong work in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Is it too wide a departure from my regular body of work?

It goes on and on.

I very much felt this way about much of the work I produced last year for my two solo shows. Much of this work consisted of tangles making up the sky, such as those seen in the painting shown at the top, Into the Blue Tangle. I felt at the time that this work was important for me, that it would have a lasting impact. It felt strong in its emotional impact for me. It had a simplicity in its profile that spoke easily to me. I found myself being drawn into the tangles and curves of the skies, following them in a mesmerized way. It was work that I thought would speak well beyond the here and now. Work that would have legs.

I felt that many of these pieces were among my best works. But it was not as well-received as I anticipated. I began to question my perception of the work.

Was I delusional in how I saw these paintings?

I still don’t know.

I have had two of these paintings on the fireplace in front of my desk for most of this year and spend a lot of time examining them. I look constantly for deficiencies in them or ways in which they could be improved. But I always find them just as they should be and they still elicit the same strong response from me. If anything, this constant examination has strengthened my belief that their time is still to come, that they will speak much louder in some future without me.

At the opening of my current show, Into the Blue Tangle was hung to fill in for a sold piece. In my time at the gallery, my eyes kept going to it, wanting to be drawn into the tangled cords that made up its sky. It was as mesmerizing as I remembered and felt important to me still as though the past year had somehow validated my belief in it.

Is this self-delusion?

I don’t know.

And the more I think about it, the less I care if that is how it’s seen. Much art, my own included, is an act of self-delusion, a distorted reflection of the human condition.

That begs the question: Can an artist function effectively without at least a bit of self-delusion?

I don’t know. Maybe self-delusion is that valuable tool in our toolboxes that we don’t like to admit having. It is, after all, as Crichton wrote, a significant characteristic of our species.

Okay, let’s clear out this place with a song. As I wrote, I glimpsed up at a carved wooden figure of Don Quixote on the stone shelf built into my fireplace. My sister gave it to me about 55 or so years ago and it seems to hang over me. Maybe his self-delusion inspired my own. Here’s a song from Welsh musician Gruff Rhys called The Last Conquistador that seems custom made for Don Quixote and me.