Jul 10 • General discussion
EVERYONE LOVES ART - even if they don't know it...
There was a time when I would earn $100 to $200 in a few hours selling my poetry (poems) in some of the toughest, meanest, most intimidating bars / offices / environments you have ever seen. Take a moment, think about that scenario - a poet - some poems - a room full of 100 pretty scary strangers in drunken party mode, or work mode and me - sometimes selling as much poetry as I could carry in the door.
I supported myself as a young artist doing that for years. $300 to $500 a week in the 1980s, as a lone poet. That amount of money was off-the-chart good for any poet in the country at that time, and it kept me in ink and paper and coffee.
But more importantly, it taught me that "Everyone loves art." Even if they are a. 6.5 foot, 300 pound, tough, truck driving, hard living bulldog of a man, looking for a fight. Deep, deep down people are pussycats when faced with something BEAUTIFUL. They can be reduced to tears, and turned from a menacing threat into a fan/customer/art lover.
This is not theory. I've lived it, seen it many, many times. I've watched someone's eyes darken, listened to them say, "NO! I'm not interested, I'm busy right now, don't have time for this..." And I learned that none of that was really true - it was all a cover for the fear of being embarrassed, or because they knew they didn't have very much money, or, or, or. None of these excuses have anything to do with the art in front of them.
In fact, 9 times out of 10 I would find that once someone actually took the time, focused their attention, had a real conversation about the work (the art) they would end up loving this piece, or that one. All I had to do was make it safe, make it OK for them to LOOK, to see the work without fear, or concern of any kind.
When it comes to people and art It all comes down to UNDERSTANDING: the Billionaire, the stay-at-home mom, truck driver, and the hardened gang member in a prison cell all need and want something beautiful, something totally honest and truthful in their life - a song that speaks to them, a kids drawing, some cool dance steps, or a painted masterpiece - everyone loves art.
As for the real 6.5 ft., 300 pound ruck driver I was telling you about, here is how that ended. He was very aggressive, "Poetry! What the hell would I do with crap like that?" He barked at me. He was sitting at a table with 4 other men, glaring at me with wild eyes and in a very threatening manner.
"That's a totally fair question." I said, "Can I give you one example?" He hesitated. as I recall now, I think he and everyone around him was a bit shocked that I responded so quick and willing to get into a dialogue with this beast of a man. (I was only 5 foot 7 inches -135 pounds soaking wet)
'
I didn't wait for his permission, I just jumped in and asked him, "Do you have anyone in your life that you truly love?"
Everyone around us just kind of froze in that moment. Sensing the tension, I jumped right back in to soften the question a bit, "You know like someone special, mother, a pretty girl, or child, son or daughter?"
The big man looked at me like he was away on a different planet suddenly. Silent. Then he let himself settle back in his chair. His aggression dimmed, and I could see the question had caught him so off guard he could hardly speak. But finally, he looked up at me and said, "A daughter."
Now, I won't take up your time with a moment-by-moment replay of that experience. I will just say that it all led up to him finally asking me to read a few of the poetry pieces I had with me for him. He then chose one as a gift for his daughter, asked me (offered to pay me extra) to sign it for her. He had tears running down his face, with no regard whatsoever for those who saw the tears, and when he pulled himself together he kept thanking me by INSISTING that everyone else around him buy one of my pieces right there and then. I honestly do not remember how many pieces I sold to people because he told them to buy one.
When leaving that establishment I looked back at him from the door way, and the image (memory) that I still have today, is him sitting at that table, my gold parchment paper poetry scrolls all over the tables around him, and me with a pocket full of money.
Oh yes, I leave with one more thing, more valuable than money. I left with the absolute proof that everyone loves art. It may not be your art or my art today. But that is a different subject about OPINIONS, and a different discussion for another day, perhaps.
For now it's 1st things 1st. Everyone means EVERYONE, without exception. That's because beauty/creation and the joy it brings speaks to the soul,
ELB
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EVERYONE LOVES ART - even if they don't know it...
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