From a very early age, it was noticed and remarked upon by my parents, teachers, and peers that I had a talent for drawing which was above the ordinary. You may laugh and consider me deluded, but that was the general consensus of opinion among those who saw my drawings. I'm sure if I could view my early efforts now, I'd be embarrassed by how bad most of them were and also resentful of the fact that anything good about them was dependent on the influence of others.
By that I mean I learned from Jack Kirby, Steve Ditko, Mike Noble, Ron Embleton, Curt Swan, Murphy Anderson and others, 'borrowing' what was good about their work and infusing it into my own. Even a poor reflection of greatness can sometimes have at least a hint of greatness about it, and that was what others saw in my sketches and doodles - the spirits of 'giants' that even my ineptitude and lack of experience couldn't completely exorcise.
As I grew up I grew lazy. Whenever I wanted recognition or approbation from my peers, all I had to do was acquiesce to their requests to dash off some doodle that, to them, seemed like a manifestation of magic on a scrap of paper or the back of a school jotter. I later learned, as an adult, that I was regarded as a bit of a 'legend' (their word, not mine) by people I didn't know because of my reputation being promoted and propagated by pupils in my class among their fellows and friends in and out of school.
Sounds like I'm full of myself, doesn't it? However, I recall meeting one fellow who'd been at my secondary school (who I didn't know at the time) telling me many years later in adulthood that my name was a 'legend' at school (remember, I'm not accountable for the perceptions or hyperbole of others) because of my ability in cartooning and also the portraits (not caricatures) of teachers I drew in my jotters instead of paying attention in class. (Bear in mind that I was only around 12 or 13 at the time, so my efforts probably seemed disproportionately good for my age.)
I'm not going to lie to you. I was of course flattered to learn that people held my talent (if not myself) in such high regard, and I allowed a little pride to swell within my heart, though I never really considered myself as anything special. Having said that, however, sometime in the early 1980s, someone said something to me that, eventually, led me to think of myself in a different way.
I'd 'taught' myself to signwrite simply by doing it (and because I wanted to be able to), and one day, in a Glasgow exhaust-fitting and m.o.t. centre where I was doing a sign, a fellow called Tony Quinn (no, not the famous actor) told me that he envied my artistic abilities because they were 'special'. "Anyone can learn to do what I do," he said, "but what you can do is a gift that can't be taught." (Unless one already had the spark that could be fanned into a flame, obviously.) I always remembered that, and I must confess it initiated a gradual change in the way I saw myself.
I didn't become a bighead, but whenever someone would try to put me down for drawing superheroes and comic strips (for my own amusement), I'd often find myself thinking - and even saying - "And what can you do that's so special? All you are is a bloody biscuit salesman!" (Or whatever.) Of course, I'm sure that even some biscuit salesmen have talents, but for the majority of them it's probably just for selling biscuits and, let's face it - that's really not so special.
I've noticed a growing trend in society over the last few years to try and reduce what were once regarded as special (even specialist) talents or artistic abilities of gifted creative people to a lower level, so that those who could never hope to attain such heights needn't feel in any way inferior to others. (Not that they should, but some people do.) Where once it was perfectly acceptable to look up to and admire (even envy) those who could do things we couldn't, the new agenda is that we are all 'equalised', and your rough doodle is as much a legitimate expression of artistic ability and accomplishment as a landscape by Constable.
There's a certain kind of person who'll take a degree course in order to validate their artistic aspirations, ambitions, and - let's face it - pretensions, so that they can consider themselves part of a talented elite. And let's not fool ourselves - there is an artistic or creative elite who are capable of things that other people aren't. In the minds of those who covet such status but are undeserving of it, the acquisition of a degree conveys a legitimacy (pseudo as it may be) on their lacklustre, talentless daubs, and delusionally confirms their own misplaced belief in themselves. (And let's be clear - no one is an artist, poet, writer, or whatever, merely because they wish to be.) Incidentally, I should emphasize that I'm not accusing everyone who studies for a degree of having this mentality, only some of them. Some jobs require a degree if you wish to pursue a career in them, but studying for a degree just for the sake of having one reeks of pretension in my opinion.
I'm not going to lie to you. I was of course flattered to learn that people held my talent (if not myself) in such high regard, and I allowed a little pride to swell within my heart, though I never really considered myself as anything special. Having said that, however, sometime in the early 1980s, someone said something to me that, eventually, led me to think of myself in a different way.
I'd 'taught' myself to signwrite simply by doing it (and because I wanted to be able to), and one day, in a Glasgow exhaust-fitting and m.o.t. centre where I was doing a sign, a fellow called Tony Quinn (no, not the famous actor) told me that he envied my artistic abilities because they were 'special'. "Anyone can learn to do what I do," he said, "but what you can do is a gift that can't be taught." (Unless one already had the spark that could be fanned into a flame, obviously.) I always remembered that, and I must confess it initiated a gradual change in the way I saw myself.
I didn't become a bighead, but whenever someone would try to put me down for drawing superheroes and comic strips (for my own amusement), I'd often find myself thinking - and even saying - "And what can you do that's so special? All you are is a bloody biscuit salesman!" (Or whatever.) Of course, I'm sure that even some biscuit salesmen have talents, but for the majority of them it's probably just for selling biscuits and, let's face it - that's really not so special.
I've noticed a growing trend in society over the last few years to try and reduce what were once regarded as special (even specialist) talents or artistic abilities of gifted creative people to a lower level, so that those who could never hope to attain such heights needn't feel in any way inferior to others. (Not that they should, but some people do.) Where once it was perfectly acceptable to look up to and admire (even envy) those who could do things we couldn't, the new agenda is that we are all 'equalised', and your rough doodle is as much a legitimate expression of artistic ability and accomplishment as a landscape by Constable.
There's a certain kind of person who'll take a degree course in order to validate their artistic aspirations, ambitions, and - let's face it - pretensions, so that they can consider themselves part of a talented elite. And let's not fool ourselves - there is an artistic or creative elite who are capable of things that other people aren't. In the minds of those who covet such status but are undeserving of it, the acquisition of a degree conveys a legitimacy (pseudo as it may be) on their lacklustre, talentless daubs, and delusionally confirms their own misplaced belief in themselves. (And let's be clear - no one is an artist, poet, writer, or whatever, merely because they wish to be.) Incidentally, I should emphasize that I'm not accusing everyone who studies for a degree of having this mentality, only some of them. Some jobs require a degree if you wish to pursue a career in them, but studying for a degree just for the sake of having one reeks of pretension in my opinion.
However, we're no longer allowed to make that distinction. Primary pupils in a school sports day race are all awarded prizes so that no one need feel left out or inferior. (No more winners or losers, merely participants.) Perish forbid that we recognise and reward excellence, and in so doing challenge kids to reach beyond their grasp and push themselves in pursuit of improvement in their chosen field of endeavour in later years. And if part of that is also teaching them to know their limitations, that too is a valuable and useful lesson. Children should know that they can't be good at everything and that there's no shame in acknowledging that someone is better at something than they are. Self-esteem shouldn't be founded on the fallacy of believing that you're good at something you're not.
According to today's way of thinking, anyone with a camera is a 'photographer', and anyone who wields a pencil or brush is an 'artist', regardless of the merits (if any) of the results. Anyone who tunelessly tortures their vocal chords (and the ears of their listeners) is a 'singer', despite not being able to carry a tune in a bucket. Anyone who commits a few lines of metreless, badly rhymed jottings to paper is a 'poet', whose work deserves the same kind of respect as that of Poe.
You get the idea I'm sure. I don't know about you, but I can't help but feel offended when someone looks at a drawing I'm proud of and says "My sister's a bit of an artist too", when their sister can't actually draw and thinks that unmade beds, or tents with names sewn on them, is the epitome of artistic achievement. As with most people, there are more things I can't do than can, but I reserve the right to feel proud of what I'm good at without feeling guilty, and resent any attempts by certain elements to elevate the efforts of the talentless to the same standard as my own by dragging me down to their level.
The world is now full of 'pretenders' who demand to be recognised for being (in their mistaken estimation) equally capable at whatever you may be naturally good at, purely because they want to be, or because of some undeserved job title or useless 'vanity-degree' (or certificate) that isn't necessarily an accurate assessment of their abilities. I don't have a degree in art (never sought one), but having one wouldn't enable me to draw any better than I do (whatever standard you may think that is), nor does the absence of one make me draw any worse. (I can do that on my own.)
So, do I have an over-inflated opinion of myself, or - in your heart of hearts - do you think the same when you experience it happening in your own life in regard to some pretentious, presumptuous pretender considering themselves your equal in the area you have a special talent for? The comments section is now open - let rip! C'mon - who's going to be brave enough to be the first? Even if it's just to tell me that you think I'm talking mince!
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Update: I see I've lost a 'follower', presumably because of this post. Perhaps an insecure person with a degree? I don't think I'm saying anything particularly controversial here. We all believe ourselves to be good at something that others who aren't also think they're good at. Just a shame that the former member didn't feel like having a conversation about what they've probably misunderstood. Sad, also, that some people go off in a huff just because someone has a different opinion to them on some subject or other, eh?
No comments yet? Well, whaddya know - you must all agree with me then.
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