Tag: writing

For the beginning artist, it is intimidating to find himself preceded by dozens of centuries and an incalculable number of other artists who have done what he only intends to do. If we add the critics and art theorists, we will have an infinite number of judgments, schools, definitions of what is or is not art, what is or is not good, what should or should not be done. In this, the one who is still struggling to find the expression of what he feels will find himself bombarded and will hardly risk the first step, it being more comfortable to silence his inner voice. The truth, however, is that the artist has to assume himself, and the sooner he does so, the better. All this immense past, which enchants and intimidates, must be used to the extent that it is useful to him, and should never be an obstacle to the expression of what he thinks is fair. It takes courage! And, moreover, personality to execute exactly what he wants.

The difficult thing in art is to make intelligent use of the spontaneous manifestations that arise during the process, inserting them into the predefined structure without harming the whole. Often, the highest peaks of a work are the result of unexpected flashes of light that the author knew how to take advantage of. The whole, it is true, lacks order; and order is not made from a spark that suddenly springs up in the spirit. But the artist, if surprised by the adventitious idea, will do very well to transfer this surprise effect to his work. Art will win.

Poetry, this terribly difficult art, is a continuous exercise of patience. In poetry, haste is always the error. It is a real upheaval to know that, on the one hand, one must take advantage of spontaneous manifestations, which spring up in bursts and give great power to the verses; but, on the other hand, one must let the verses cool down, solidify, and then grind them calmly, adjusting the rhythm, changing words, refining expression. The stab wound of noticing a blemish caused by hastiness is extremely painful. A whole exhausting work, therefore, is spoiled when it is no longer possible to repair it. From it, to the artist, only failure, only frustration will remain. That is why poetic work is an exercise in self-control, in patience, where the poet must also act as a strategist, releasing and containing his impulses, suspecting himself even when he will conclude that he should not do it. And, still, it will not be enough…

Every artist has inclinations and deficiencies. There are themes that, by an innate disposition, come out naturally and brilliantly; others, however, present difficulties. Therefore, first of all, it is important that the artist is able to identify and classify them. Then, it is necessary to work to develop his weaknesses, and this is done by exercising the representation of what is opposite, exploring forms, taking risks. In art, of course, there are choices; but there are also weaknesses, and these, if not taken on board, in their own way, will always manage to become entrenched as obvious defects. Thus, will be complete the artist who, through effort, converts into strength that which is not natural to him.