# 69: Thinking about Artists — Maybe
Story behind the Passage
It is not easy to not know what you do exactly. This afternoon, a dear friend of mine asked me to send her some info about me because she wanted to pass it on to someone who was interested in getting to know me better. “Just explain in a few sentences what you do,” she advised. “Well, I have no idea what I am doing,” I said. Then we both laughed. “I know, Silke, but that is kind of difficult if I tell her this,” she went on. “O.k,” I replied, “I see the point. I will write something.”
I wrote about my sudden realization that I might be an artist in an autobiographical piece from about two years ago. In that year, I suddenly realized that the way I think, who I am, has a lot to do with being an artist. I still do not know if I am an artist. Last night before going to bed I checked on Wikipedia what the definition of “artist” is. The article shows you a painting of the “Brain of an Artist” by Daniel Chodowiecki. I do not know the painter. Neither did I know anything about this painting before last night.
But I saw it and I knew: That is me.
That much about the self-awareness part. The point is: self-awareness in and of itself does not get you anywhere. Yes, I do write more regularly and I follow my artistic impulses more or less spontaneously because I organized my life to allow space for this. Still, the other voices in my head force me to think about other things as well: research, business, journalism. All these things need space of their own. Whenever I forcefully quiet one of these voices, they strike back. This is how I came to think of Hesse’s Demian today.
The book was recommended to me by my coach about three years ago. Well, again, whenever I say “recommended to me,” it hardly ever means that people tell me: “buy this book.” No, she mentioned a quotation from the book while I was talking about my plans and dreams and brainfucks. And then she quoted Hesse. He is one of my favorite authors. He was just as crazy and sad as I am — as most writers are, I guess. I did not know Demian back then but I had read Hesse. So, I ordered the book after the meeting with her and I am very glad I did. I will give the passage that she mentioned at the end of my text today.
My Learnings
“All I really wanted was to try and live the life that was spontaneously welling up within me. Why was that so very difficult?” This morning I spontaneously recorded a clip in which I demonstrate what coaching is as a ventriloquist with my puppet called Lotta. I spontaneously had this idea after I woke up this morning and I immediately implemented it. There was no way that I could have pursued my normal routine — the stuff on my list today — without getting this done. Is that what makes an artist?
Maybe.
What I am saying is that these ‘creative’ impulses need to come to life the moment I feel them “welling up within me,” as Hesse put it. If I do not give in to this force, I can hardly concentrate on anything else. Of course, I try to and I manage somehow but the problem is: this suppressing of creative energy backfires to a point when you get sick — literally sick. It is unhealthy to be an artist who does not create art of some sort. For sure, it is also unhealthy to be an artist who creates art all the time.
Maybe.
So, why is “that so very difficult?” as Hesse points out. I have no idea. I only know: it is difficult. It is damn difficult to not know what you do (the question of my friend today) because you cannot tell anyone. And I do realize that people who want to hire you or buy something from you need to know what exactly you are selling in the first place. I mean, that is a very basic insight, right? But the answers are not that easy for maybe-artists like myself. Can scholars ever be artists at the same time?
Maybe.
The protagonist in Demian grows with every step he takes from childhood to adulthood. I do not remember all the steps exactly. I do remember that the book became somewhat of a Bible to me. I know, you should not compare anything to the Bible. Still, the book is so full of wisdom. I constantly felt caught; as if someone was holding up a mirror in front of me. It was quite spooky. And the story moved me to tears. So, actually, my coach hit a homerun when she quoted from the book back in our session.
Maybe.
This was the line she mentioned. Is it not so fascinating that it says “one world”? It does not say you have to destroy “your” world. Maybe this detail is totally irrelevant. Maybe not. The point is, I truly believe in this. I remember, when she mentioned the line, I could see the egg and myself right inside struggling to break the shell. And I did break it. I think, by now, I have broken many shells. I just wonder how many there are left. It is like you get born by fighting your way out of one egg and somehow you then end up in another by building your own shell which you then need to break and so on.
Maybe.
In any case, I am really grateful that my life continues to constantly remind me of the artist inside — inside myself, inside the egg-shell. I just wonder whether I really broke it back then when I decided to write or whether that was only the first step towards destroying “a world.” I do not think I would worry so much about all the other voices inside my head if I already embraced the life of an artist. Maybe I am still struggling. Maybe I am not an artist by any means. All I know is that all these crazy thoughts are a definite indication that “what is welling up within me” is coming out already. And I guess neither Emil Sinclair nor Hesse had any hope that it would end up being so difficult.
Maybe.
Reflection Questions
1) Who is your favorite author?
2) How do you define an artist?
3) If you were to write a novel — what would be the title?