The Welcome Tree–At the West End Gallery
“I always had the feeling that we were amateurs in a world of professionals. Amateurs stand so much closer to what they are doing, and they are driven by enthusiasm, which is so much more forceful that what professionals are driven by.”
–Emeric Pressburger, on his film partnership with Michael Powell
I recently watched the documentary Made In England: The Films of Powell & Pressburger on TCM. It was made by Martin Scorsese who is a huge fan of the movies of this pair, citing them as a major influence on his films. I am also a fan of their very unique films– The Red Shoes, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, A Matter of Life and Death, Black Narcissus, and many others. They often look different, with their lush colors and daring perspectives, than other films from their time and have stories with ideas that also seem far from the mainstream. There is a richness that runs through their work.
The quote at the top of the page from Emeric Pressburger was part of the film and it jumped out at me. This idea of being an amateur in a world of professionals is one that I have often, if not always, felt about my own place in the art world. This kind of links in with what I wrote yesterday, when I was describing my anxiety over the Phronesis interview with Scott Allen. I wrote a bit about sometimes feeling like an impostor when speaking, or even writing, about what I do, that there are far more qualified and talented artists out there who should be speaking about art.
But it was second sentence in that passage from Pressburger that clarified everything for me. It was the enthusiasm of an amateur– that stupid courage, as I put it yesterday– that brought me there. It was the excitement of just doing work that I wanted to see and wasn’t finding elsewhere. There was freedom in not knowing or caring what others were doing or how my work might compare to their work.
And that has worked for many years. Of course, there are blips, times when I begin to think I am a professional, begin to care how my work compares to others or that it has to be more polished or conventional. Much as Pressburger points out, the professional me then is further from that initial force that drove me when I only saw myself as an amateur.
It is something I am struggling with right now. It sounds funny but I want to feel like an amateur again. I want to have that stupid courage at play again, that feeling where I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks about what I am doing or how it compares to anyone else’s work. In fact, I don’t want it to compare to anyone else’s work.
To just do it and let the chips fall where they may.
Is that an easy thing to do? It sounds like it should be, doesn’t it?
It isn’t. As with anything, there are complications, other things to be considered– the need to make a living, the need to maintain your relationship and goodwill in the galleries that show your work, the constraints of time and energy, etc. The good thing here is that stupid courage sometimes convinces you to set aside those concerns and, as they used to say, let your freak flag fly.
Hope any of this makes sense to you. It’s kind of the thing that an amateur might write. Maybe I am back on track?
We’ll see.
Here’s a song from Moondog who I spoke of in the Phronesis interview. I am not going to go into any detail at the moment, but he was a most interesting character. Another amateur in a world of professionals. I find myself often listening to his unique music. I will write more about him soon. This is a song called Rollo which Scott Allen said was his son Will’s favorite.
Redtree Times 