By Angel Brynner.
* This is the introduction for a series of interviews that will be published in their entirety in an upcoming Globalboho travelogue.
What I’ve always loved about the artist community is that there are as many variations on the definition of artist as there are meanings of the word community within it.
There’s races to be run and walks to be had, altars to bow down at and to. And by a sly sprinkling of grace God gives those he imbues with actual talents the world needs the wherewithal to choose for themselves which of those they with be beholden to. For better or for worse.
Choose this day who ye will serve…Excerpt from Joshua 24:15
Because being an actual artist really is akin to marriage. In fact, it may be the only variant of the idea that works more often than not on the Mortal plane.
And the very things that make a marriage fail or work factor into the sense of success or failure an artist feels at a soul level as they complete their particular journey.
You marry the Arts.
Some are betrothed at birth, some the second time around, after all the things they’d been convinced by themselves and others to do instead of it fail .
But figuring out what is truly going on with you as an artist leads invariably to one standing at the altars of competition, comparison and correspondence.
And what you do at those altars-the vows you make and the company you keep -will forever speak on behalf of you to the universe regarding what you have signed up for and in the end, what you will get no matter what you do in front of others.
Know…WHAT ARE YOU IN IT FOR?
Competition is key…but to what door?
There are those who treat the Arts like a Competition.
There are awards to win and leaderboards to climb to the top of, bells to ring and pitches to perfect to prove which league you are in. It’s a game akin to the Olympics, with teams and trading amongst them, benefactors and betrayers.
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. We’re taught it is the American way.
The arts machine responds to and resounds with motifs to support the artists worshipping at that altar to support them in that decision.
When your eyes see it as such you will find those who run their segments of the beast like a numbers racket, hustling “art” like commodities traders did off in the cut in the 80s.
The “Big Time” is to be conquered and challengers to any fleeting smidgen of success you are “given” are to be routed. And after making the choice that this particular beast is your altar, this path will be your Master, promising to break you to build you.
You can be “the Best.” You just have no say in the definition of that assignation when you’re so focused on competing with others.
The “they” that define the rings to jump through will forever rule over you, and if you aren’t careful desire to be seen as worthy by them will make you so thirsty for their attention that you will corrupt your craft, laying to waste all the work you put into what once mattered to you.
Oftentimes it is only after you are willing to do just that, willing to corrupt the actuality of your God-given and self hewn artistic geist for a lilting glow from the torches they wave in the dark that you’ve all agreed to, that garlands from the world are bestowed.
The success you’ve craved comes. But everything you once stood for, wanted to be seen as a beacon of is corroded. People who could have been seen as comrades are fucked over on the way with such regularity that there is rarely anyone of merit to share that success with you without ulterior motives. & those that “give” you access to that success will forever own chunks of your soul to trade at will, a true art in and of itself. Your art geist getting routed becomes the true masterpiece in their hands.
But it’s fun!
Playing the Arts competitively.
It’s a blast.
A ride to be enjoyed!
When you choose it.
You just can never forget that you did.
Even as you’re getting tied to it.
Comparison and the quandary of the eyes of the beholder.
There are those in the Arts who sneer at the more Olympian-oriented artists.
They think that altar is batshit crazy and beneath them. And it is. Usually. To and for them. That’s why they passed it up. Their ” psyches aren’t pulled to the arts to go head to head against other artists.” It sounds barbaric to them.
And that is okay! I repeat, We really do ALL get to chose which of these altars are ours.
“I’m not about competition at all!”
It’s the common song of those sitting in front of this altar. And often it is true. They aren’t about competition because they are not Competitors.
…but that doesn’t stop them from side-eyeing everyone else who comes to break bread or sup at the altar they Do wholeheartedly choose: the Altar of Comparison.
The Comparers are rarely hopelessly inured to the greater machine to pick them as the best.
That is their separate peace in all of this. It…Gives them a sense of autonomy that the Competitors give up in hopes of being given brass rings, an autonomy that can lead to arrogance and hubris but is still a semblance of freedom the Competitors never have.
But they usually end up so caught up in what those also “not about competing” are up to and panickingly mimicking any moves they see anyone make to see if it’ll “stick” that all that autonomy can sometimes end up wasted. They become what they look at and copy, losing the essence of what they once were as artists.
Sometimes Comparers are flipped into competition, get a taste of it and lose their hearts, souls or minds, too. They get strung out on the teat of that beast in the worst way possible precisely because so much of their build-in was looking at the Competition oriented art heads as beneath them… while wanting those rings just as badly.
There’s a nobility still possible to be attained by the comparison junkies [because what is the nobility but a collective that has set itself apart(and above)?].
There’s space for a sense of Satori too.
Once they are forced to not care what those besides them are doing. It usually arises with having to make sense of finding oneself on the short end of that comparative stick with no way to pretend otherwise.
It’s an interesting altar. Simultaneously not for the weak and for those who secretly see themselves as such until they snap out of looking at how everyone around them is doing on the test.
But it too… ain’t for everybody.
and then, there’s correspondence.
I AM of this ilk.
Every sense of the word, from metaphysical to tactical.
As above, So Below.
The draw what you see folks.
The color spectrum of light crew who see the dichotomies of the first two altars need each other to exist.
The ones who hit the planet with a arthead purpose and walk it out, no fucks given beyond dedication to whatever that purpose is.
It’s a rag-tag crew of Gods and wild monsters on fire for whatever segment of the Arts they are here repping. That’s ALL they care about.
The Best way to explain what these arthead brethren are about is to let them speak for themselves.
… and my goal is to, by the end of 2021, cajole some of them that I’ve had the pleasure to rock with out on the road due to Globalboho out of their Secret Kingdoms and Hephaestusian lairs to answer 30 down and dirty questions about their walking out this Art of Life.
To show you instead of telling. Across the Arts and it’s industries. Because we all are artists, working in whatever mediums sing to us.
Because representation matters.
And we’re a weird bunch at this altar.
But we too enjoy the ride.
Hopefully you will too as you come along for this series.