The following is a question I get quite often, followed by the answer I give just as often.
It isn’t so much that people are wondering if they are supposed to be artists, as they are wondering if I can make it easier for them to pursue a professional artist’s life. I can’t. And according to JPII, we shouldn’t want to. It is the sacrifice of the artist’s life – its brain-wrackingness, its plenitude of rejection, its isolation, its instability, etc. – that makes the artist’s life a way to holiness. For them and their work. And then us through their work.
But, anyway, here is the latest permutation of this question and answer…
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Dear Ms. Nicolosi:
[Extravagant praise for Barb and Act One deleted in humility.]
I have been wondering lately how I know if I am an artist. How can I know?
M, in Minneapolis
Dear M:
Artistic talent, however, usually shows up early. What is it that you were better at in kindergarten than all the other kids? These things aren’t subtle. You could sing or draw or dance or act or write better than everybody else in your class. And you liked doing it. Or else you couldn’t and didn’t.