Wednesday, February 20, 2013

I am an artist, not a work of art

My colleague, the Budo Bum, has (as always) posted a thoughtful essay.  This time, he compares the self-improvement that is one of the stated aspects of budo study to the creation of an artwork.  As he incorporates the self-improvement aspects of budo, he considers his life as a work of art-in-progress.

As much as I like this essay, I have to disagree with the premise.  I am not a work of art, nor do I want to be one.

To begin with, there are many paths to self-improvement.  Any sort of ethical training, for example, should, if conscientiously applied, lead to a better person.  Yet, we would not consider an ethicist or otherwise consciously moral person a work of art.  I like to consider myself a moral person, but I do not consider the development of my moral perspective to be a work of art.

An artist creates artwork.  But the functions of different artists are different.  For example, my husband is a painter.  He is a modern artist.  He has trained in art techniques and art history, but his art reflects his experience and his aesthetics, based on both his training and his life experiences.  I would say he is a very interesting person, and I admire his artwork (that is actually one of the reasons why I married him!), but he is not a work of art. 

I consider myself a classical artist.  A classical artist has a slightly different function from a modern artist.  In my view, a modern artist creates something unique out of his experience, whereas a classical artist creates something that is unique but also serves her tradition.  In classical budo, as most casual observers know, we study kata.  Someone who has never seriously considered kata may think of it as boring and repetitive, and think that those who study it are limiting their freedom to express themselves.  To be honest, endless reps of patterned movement are boring and repetitive; or at least they can be unless done with a continuing sense of mindfulness.  Mindfulness ends the boredom of repetition and results in improvement of technique better than mere repetition can.  But what happens then?  Just because we practice kata until it sinks inseparably into our physical-mental selves does not mean it becomes art.  Or does it?

Here is where an analogy to another classical art might be helpful.  A ballet dancer practices techniques until they become second nature, and memorizes choreography (whether new or part of the classical repertoire).  If that is the extent of her understanding of what she is doing, she will indeed be limited and unable create any expression in performing a work of art.  Watching a dancer who has simply memorized the moves of a piece is supremely dull (it happens alot in Nihon buyo - Japanese classical dance - believe me).  In fact, if we think of a dancer as being an artist, we cannot consider someone who has simply memorized the appropriate moves to be a dancer.  Likewise, someone who studies classical budo and limits himself to simply memorizing (even deeply memorizing) kata will never be an artist either.  What is the difference? 

This is where things get sticky because we have very limited vocabulary in trying to describe what that something is that makes someone who studies dance a dancer and someone who studies budo a martial artist.  We can call it talent, but the word is ill-defined and somewhat misleading.  There are plenty of talented youngsters at one thing or another who are never able to exploit their talent as adults.  I have met people who had early talent in budo, but who declined later in life, as their technique declined with age.  I have also met much older people who seem to simply get better with time, even though technically their skills can't match those of younger practitioners.  What is going on here?

There are no doubt other theories, but my idea for marking the difference is the ability to express something through the form.  What that something is varies depending on the art form being done, as well as who the performers are and what they set out to express.  If we compare a crappy performance of Swan Lake with a good one (and let's assume for a moment that both performances are technically competent), the difference is in the way the movement is being performed.  The good performance is expressive in a way that connects with the audience, where the other has no expression, which leaves the audience cold.  Even if the audience does not agree with a given interpretation, if they can feel that interpretation in the performance, the performance has worked. 

It's the same in classical budo.  Put two equally-experienced budoka together and ask them to perform the same kata (it will help if they are facing away from each other).  The kata will be the same, but the way the kata is performed will not be.  The difference is the self-expressive aspect of kata.  If there is no self-expressive aspect, the kata will be correctly done, but feel dead to the observer (and probably to the practitioner as well). 

However, even brilliant kata will not make the budoka a work of art.  It may make her a better person; even a more expressive person, but she will be an artist, and her kata will be the art, upholding and enhancing the tradition she serves, while giving it a character that is uniquely her own.

1 comment:

  1. This is a wonderful reply. Fortunately for me, my post was intended to be the first of 2 or more, so I have a good chance to expand on my ideas and make them clearer. There is much here that is worth thinking about. Thank you.

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