Village Squire, 1979-09, Page 42P.S.
It's the time of year
that brings out
the frustrated
artist
BY KEITH ROULSTON
This is the time of year that brings out
the frustrated artist in me.
I've been fortunate to be able to get
involved in many interesting sidelines in
my life so far but one of the talents I've
always wished I'd been blessed with is the
ability to draw or paint. I thought I had
some talent when I was about six but it's
long since disappeared. Part of it is that I
don't have the infinite patience a good
artist needs.
There's something about fall that brings
this longing out the strongest though. I
think fall is the most Canadian of all
seasons. It echos our whole feeling toward
our climate. The days are growing shorter,
the air sharper. It's weather that is filled
with emotion. Summer weather is just
weather to be enjoyed (or cursed
depending on just how hot it is) but autumn
weather is to be savoured, enjoyed, like the
last few ounces of wine from a good vintage
you know you'll never be able to afford
again.
When I think of fall I tend to think back
to a particular hill 1 used to sit on and watch
the land rolling away below me. The trees
were in their full blaze of colour but they
were a minor part of the total effect. Just as
important were tired greens and the muted
shades of rust and brown of the summer
grasses now gone to seed. And over it all,
giving a special magic to it all, is the haze
that seems to appear on sunny autumn
days.
Being a writer on such days isn't
enough. How can mere words paint the
picture. They can't even describe the
strange feelings that lie there inside, the
combination of satisfaction at the accom-
plishments of the summer, nostalgia that
another summer has passed, sadnesses
that another cold winter is just around the
corner and a feeling that all this can never
be recaptured, that an ending has been
written to another chapter of your life.
I suppose the painter is likely disatisfied
with his ability to put down on the board all
40 Village Squire, September 1919
his feelings about the season too. He can
capture the sights perhaps. the glorious
colours, the muted shade. even the haze.
but he can't capture all those emotions that
are inside him.
I think that's what drives artistic people.
a frustration with not being able to capture
those precious moments of life. Sonie
people are satisfied with material
possessions. They can go out and buy a
new house and decorate it with the best
furniture and even buy the best in art for it.
All that might be nice, but it isn't enough
for the artist. There is always the feeling
there that something is missing. There's
the feeling of wanting to be able to capture
the beauty of life, to freeze that scene. that
moment, that feeling. A beautiful sunset. a
gorgeous woman, the special way a child
looks at you all are moments that make the
artist want to get to work to record the
effect. It's strange, we all know there will
be more beautiful sunsets, other gorgeous
women. more charming poses by children.
yet there is still the urge to get it down. to
make time stand still for even that brief
moment.
Yet no artist is able to do that
completely. There is always the dissatisfac-
tion that something is missing. No single
artistic medium can capture all the intense
feelings that go into one of those moments,
a combination of the visual, the cerebral.
even the smell of the moment. These can
only be recorded briefly in our own mind to
be recalled imperfectly at later times.
There have been thousands, perhaps
millions of sunsets painted or photograph-
ed yet somehow to each artist the urge is
still there to do another. It's that missing
thing that always drives the new artist to
want to put down his version of the
experience. Perhaps he knows he can
never paint as well as Rembrandt, write as
well as Tolstoy but he must try to put down
for permanent record his particular vision
of the event. The great artists are the ones
who come closest to their own vision in
their final product. No matter how close the
artist comes to recording the vision he will
never quite be satisfied because some of
the qualities of the sight, the feeling, the
moment are too illusive, but he'll go on
trying.
It is the drive for that freezing of the
moment that keeps artist going. That's
why artists are willing to trade the security
and prosperity of a regular job for the
relative poverty of the conditions under
which most painters, writers, sculptors
live. They'd rather have second hand
furniture and capture beauty in the world
than have beautiful furniture and miss the
beauty. And because of their drive, all the
rest of us in the world who lack their vision
benefit.
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