By Kirsteen Lyons-Benson BA (Hons) Artist (not a critic nor an academic, an artist)

​

I am an artist; it is who I am in a very simple, literal sense, like “I am a spade” or “I am a hammer.” By this, I mean – I just am. It did not come from my genetics, or my qualifications, or my fairy godmother, and I do not require anyone else to make it so. But unlike a spade, I am because I choose to be.

​

Being an artist, to me, means several things. I am outside the class system – kings and prostitutes have been the subjects of artists for as long as there have been either. I am outside society and its insular groups as much as I can be. I should be friends with many groups, welcome many places, but belong very carefully – because I should always strive for perspective. This is because an artist’s function is to comment on civilisation and imagine new futures for us all. This is also why I read and travel as diversely as I can. Perspective: the search for new views and ideas and the constant effort to strip away my own insular ideas for more informed ones.

​

This informs my message. What am I saying? What do I want to tell the world about itself? For me, it is often as simple as, “The world has a bright face as well as a dark one – if you look, you can see it.” But I never relinquish my right to make gut-churning protest art if my moral compass tells me to. I live in a privileged country, with many personal freedoms and rights, so I have not had this tested in this life, but I like to think I would not relinquish that right lightly. This also fuels my interest in human rights education.

​

So, if one has observed the world somewhat, and one has a message, then what? Well, the next part is the communication of that message. This involves a commitment to more looking, to study and practice. One has to play around with the materials, try and try again, get something that works, and then practice that until it is part of your very soul. I am 47; I have been practising all my life – drawing, painting, photography, calligraphy, design, sculpture, teaching, writing, and more. They all inform each other. Looking: landscapes, seascapes, art galleries, museums, cities, ads, packaging, fabrics, people – everything can be ignored or looked at. My camera actually helps me notice things, the lifetime habit of looking out for the shot which will become a painting. Drawing even more so, as I sit and observe for a time period and make informed choices about what to include and what to leave out of my communication.

​

Some things I have done which improved my quality of communication include doing a four-year design degree, drawing every day for two years, and years of teaching (drawing for demonstration). This helps bridge that gap between “the best at drawing in your school” and professional, even among a university full of people who were the best in their school.

​

Guitar players practise till their fingers bleed, and then they play through that until they have callouses that cannot bleed – most people do not get this far. They give up before it even hurts. I have made my hands bleed many times in my life – cracked by clay, cut with a craft knife, scrubbed raw to get varnish off. They heal; they are hard as workman’s hands now, and my skill level means I hardly ever cut myself – not in years. This is what I mean by practice: do not decide you are “no good” or “not talented” based on a year or six. This is not a fair try. Be kind to yourself. I recently looked at work from my time at university and was astonished at how basic and poorly observed it was – I was quite impressed with it at the time, and I was getting top marks too. I am undoubtedly better now, and I will be better still at 60. Most of “talent” is won this way.

​

Now one has to share the stuff with others. You could only create secret art for yourself, but for me, my function is the passing on of a message – this requires someone to see it. I find many artworks go through an uncomfortable stage at some point, a phase when they look wrong and odd and off-message, and then the trapdoor in the floor opens under me. The thought can enter, “Is this one any good?” or even “Is all my art worthless?” This is especially bad, as I have already pointed out that “I AM AN ARTIST,” so “Is all my art worthless?” as a thought includes the implication that I am worthless too. Do not go down this trapdoor in the floor! This is not a cool fantasy story with a fairytale in there! You are a professional, and your way out is to do your job and finish the art. All art is worth something. If it was the art of your friend or your daughter or your mum, you would not feel this way. That tells you it is not rational. It is a trapdoor in the floor, and it leads to quitting. It leads to abandoning being you. Do not go.

​

Once you are past the trapdoor, it usually takes an upturn, and in the end, I nearly always like it. Some works are not good, but past the trapdoor I can look at the finished work more objectively and learn from the mistakes and plan to get it more right in the next work. I have also noticed I have a lower and lower fail rate over the years of practice. Learning to throw pottery started with almost a 100% fail rate. A couple of years’ practice and I liked about 50% of what I created. With painting and drawing, I have practised so much I now like about 98% of what I create. This makes it very fast, smooth, enjoyable, and makes me very prolific. It’s like driving fast on empty roads in beautiful landscapes now, most of the time. The trapdoor skims by under my feet, snapped shut with little effort as I paint in this fast and easy drive.

​

Finally, you must show it to people. I highly recommend you sell it to people. They should support your future raising of the civilisation in which they are forced to exist into something they can tolerate more easily. They need you. They need art more than they need bombs or sugar or controversy about the problem of the week! They pay for all of the above willingly or unwillingly – they can also pay to be helped, that you might help life to them in future. I admit I do struggle with this. There is the trapdoor in the floor again. I can be sure that if I make a bar of soap and sell it for what bars of soap are commonly worth, then my bar of soap is worth that. Anyone who says it is not worth that can be ignored.

​

What is my art worth? If someone says it is not worth that, and “I AM AN ARTIST,” am I not worth that? Do not go down this trapdoor. I am professional. This also involves getting it out to society, even if that society has some messed-up ideas about what is worth a lot and what is not. Shares in a company that makes weapons to destroy the children of some other mother are, to me, not worth more than any person’s art, no matter how poorly executed or unpractised it may be. This is what you are up against. Remember, you are giving them your soul to heal theirs. They are being helped. You can ask for some worldly support to allow you to help others in future.

​

I hope my thoughts have been of interest.

I will always help another soul create art if I can, so do reach out to me if you want to.

Love,
Kirsteen

​

​