My Friend the Artist

I have a friend whom I see every month or so. She's a very talented sculptor and painter who walks dogs for a living. Somehow she's able to pay for her rent-stabilized apartment on West 11th Street by walking other peoples' pets.

We frequently go to museums, where she can tell me all kinds of good stories and tidbits about artists and movements, and in my artistic ignorance, I completely appreciate the mini-lessons in art history that she can provide. It's like having a private docent with me no matter where we go. What she told me about Edvard Munch's "The Scream" is quite eye-opening and unexpected. She makes the artists seem like real people, like when she told me that Picasso's friends used to hide what they were working on because they were afraid he'd steal their ideas. Apparently, he was known to do this. I loved learning that the most revered artist of the 20th century was a plagiarist, a hack.

What's inspiring is her approach to her own art. Her work is worthy of gallery shows and acclaim, but for her, it's about the process. She totally gets off on making art. She's not a blowhard about it, but speaks so passionately about what she does that you find yourself getting caught up with her. And she couldn't care less about whether anyone ever sees her art. In today's world, where everyone has their eye on the main chance, and says they want to be an artist, when in truth what they want to be is rich, famous, and acclaimed, her artistry is pure.

If you were to point this out to her, she would wave her hand and laugh her big laugh and give her version of "pshaw!"

Other people do it because they need to hear other people say, "Hurrah!" in order to get their validation. She does it because it's fun, because it charges her battery. She gets excited when she finds an undistinguished chunk of wood on the street and carries it home. Somewhere in it, she sees what it's supposed to be, and simply carves away all the things that it isn't.

Going to her apartment is like going to a little gallery in itself.

There's a part of me that is so envious of her for being a true artist. I realize that I am merely a highly skilled technician at my chosen craft. Yet there's the bigger part of me that enjoys being around her and her art in the same way I enjoy going to a great concert, or reading a fantastic book. You just have to appreciate the art for art's sake.