Albert Camus, in his The Myth of Sisyphus essay, relates this anecdote to Franz Kafka:
"You know the story of the crazy man who was fishing in a bathtub. A doctor with ideas as to psychiatric treatments asked him 'if they were biting,' to which he received the harsh reply: 'Of course not, you fool, since this is a bathtub.' [...] Kafka's world is in truth an indescribable universe in which man allows himself the tormenting luxury of fishing in a bathtub, knowing that nothing will come of it."
It is also relatable to the art making experience. Art requires rigor and daily commitment. This commitment can take the form of reading, looking at other art, talking about it, or actually making it. But what is the goal or the reward? Why exercise such discipline? Is it to receive praise from other artists, friends, or family? Is it to achieve fame in the form of gallery and museum exhibitions? To make lots of money? What if these things never happen? What if they do happen? Does it matter? Why can't the simple act of making the stuff be sufficient enough?
I've accomplished some exciting things since completing my MFA, but those are not the things that keep me going. It is the day to day experiences, the act of heading out into the world to make pictures, and the little surprises along the way.
Why do we have to catch fish in order to make fishing meaningful? I know that I'm sitting in the bathtub, but being in the water is enough for me.
3 comments:
I agree – similar sentiments, albeit in different arenas. We're peculiar animals, and with all the comforts that modern conveniences afford, we search for a things to challenge us, to make us work. When you don't have to fight off a rival tribe or hunt for food, you take pleasure in hunting after intellectual or sporting life, no matter the permutation.
Or at least that's how I see it. I think you do too.
Indeed, a similar sentiment. Excellent.
Awesome post.
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