Artisans by T Geezer

People create; the truly creative are occasionally recognized and their works become desirable.  When that desire becomes greater than the availability of the creative works, demand for such works make the creative individual wealthy, at least temporarily.  Altogether too often, demand for creative works is fickle.  I’m reminded of the temporary demand for ‘Teddy Ruxspin’ and ‘Tickle Me Elmo’, which were incredibly popular for a short period.  During those periods, retailers sponsored auctions, where bidding wars replaced fisticuffs in retailers’ establishments.  Once product inventories grew, the luster vanished and they became just two more toys on retailers’ shelves.

True artistry isn’t always recognized or rewarded when first produced.  Regardless of the artisan’s media, great works must endure the test of time.  Homer didn’t write the Iliad or The Odyssey for wealth, he wrote to document the outcome of the Trojan War and the return of King Odysseus after being held captive by Calypso on the isle of Ogygia.    According to legend (we have no idea if Homer actually created the poems) Homer wrote the two classic poems nearly 2900 years ago; not all pieces of art take that long to be appreciated or recognized as masterpieces. 

Some pieces of art are discredited as poorly constructed until they have been thoroughly vetted for value they truly represent.  The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald, is an example of an artistic creation that rebounded from its initial reviews.  When it was first published many critics chose to find the work less than remarkable, finding fault with the premise and the pointless plot.  Today, ‘Gatsby’ is often cited as the greatest piece of American literature ever written.  In the truest sense of relativity, we have no idea where it will be ranked in another hundred years.

In my humble opinion, I don’t believe we should focus our creative juices to satisfy critics or, even, readers.  As writers, we should write what is in our hearts and minds; telling the stories we want told and as we wish to tell them.  We, like all artisans, should endeavor to create pieces that meet our craft’s standards (meaning spelling, punctuation, and grammar), but without regard to content.   For instance, I’m not a fan of Rembrandt.  His paintings are too dark, hiding the many details that the critics praise, from my old eyes.  Regardless of how much his paintings may be worth to others, they would never find a place on my living room walls. 

Few may read my books and, while that may sadden me, my sadness is because we’ll never have that conversation together, not because of the money their purchase may have added to my purse.  I hope that you, too, choose to tell your story; as you want it told.

Written by T Geezer

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