Sometimes when no one loves you, vanity is a wonderful thing. At times, it is even good to be self deluded. Seeing your own work as worthwhile, even great, when no one else does can be all you have. Vanity can get you through hard times. Vanity is useful. It is a survival tool.
How often is it said that vanity is a bad thing? So she has the personality of hippopotamus and an appearance to match, but her nails and hair are divine. Or he has the masculine organs of mouse, but the lift kit and wheels of his big truck allow him to go through four feet of mud. Sure. That kind of vanus in the Latin sense of “empty” is laughable.
But there’s another kind of vanity, and I say, “Cheers” to it.
When I was a kid, I was lousy at sports. I wanted desperately to be good. But I could not hit a baseball to save my life, and no one would dare throw a football my way because the only certainty was someone on the other team would catch it. I wanted to get good grades in school. I really did. But the blue of the sky and the way the leaves on the trees whispered in the wind would engage my attention in a way that school work never could, and so when it came time to do the work, I was outside, playing and dreaming.
But I could draw.
I could draw like maybe a small handful of kids my age in the whole city. I was good, at least, at something.
Now some would say, “That’s not vanity. You actually could draw. You had a right to be proud.”
But I was vain. My skill made up for deficiencies in other areas — in my mind.
It didn’t. I was deluded. In my heart, I was jealous. Secretly, I wanted to be as good as other kids at the things that kids — boys my age — really admired, like sports or feats of bravery, but I was no good at those things…
(Well, I was pretty tough. I could take a punch or a fall or a loss and not be a bad sport, so I wasn’t a complete loser, but still.)
And the fact was, I never quit trying to be good at sports. I never gave up. It was harder for me because unlike my more athletic friends, I had no older siblings or father types to teach me. Unlike my more brainiac friends, I had no one to push me or test my scholastic aptitudes. But I kept at it. Eventually, I did become a good athlete. Eventually I did become quite the scholar. I never did acquire any vanity about those things though. I find that interesting.
Yet there came into my life long periods in which I was producing no decent work. My vanity expected and demanded greatness, and no excuses were tolerated. I would add to the body of art something as great as anything that was ever done by anyone who ever lived. Period.
That day has not come. But I will do it, or I will die trying.
Vanity, deluded or not, is a useful thing for artists.
I agree that vanity is useful for artists, Rex. I think it’s almost even necessary or why else would we continue doing what we do? I believe there is a certain amount of vanity involved in the act of making art–the thought that what we have to say or have to show is important, and that other people need to see it. Also, as you pointed out, vanity can be a driving force…maybe we haven’t created that perfect masterpiece yet, but somewhere inside we believe we can, so therefore we continue to try.
I believe that there is bravery in being an artist. It’s a courageous act to create a piece that is personal and reveals something about the ourselves…whether it is intentional or not, I believe there is a bit of self revealed in each work of art. However, vanity or self-importance is what keeps us going, and what drives us show our work to others.
Call it vanity or egotism, I think a healthy dose is a major asset, if not required, for success in any field (any definition will do). As Chantal said, we need a belief in ourself to keep working, especially on something (art) that others may consider pointless.
But the trick is to not let the ego get in the way of being open to new things, new ideas that are also important to success. Maybe a few geniuses (and I’m not that egotistical) somehow have something so powerful they can largely ignore everything and everyone else, but the rest of us need to learn from others. If we scorn them and reject what they can offer, we’re only hurting ourselves.
There is a terrific moment in the film Napoleon Dynamite when the uncle crosses his arms and places a fist behind his bicep as an act of promotion.
And Courbet? (Karl: are you familiar with his “L’Origine du Monde”?)
Chantal,
I was wondering just how controversial this topic would be. Not at all, by appearances so far. :) I agree about the bravery. On the face of it, art is a foolish avocation. But what is better?
Steve,
I certainly do let my ego get in the way at times. In fact, there is a certain virtue in shutting out other influences. How else can we avoid doing derivative work?
Yes, I end up missing out on good influences too. But more often than not, I’m being merely polite. If there is no benefit for the other artist in what I have to say, I prefer to not speak my mind. I may enjoy concocting a brutally honest sentence like, “this work looks like a monkey wiped her bleeding rectum on some paper,” but where is the gain to the world by such a statement?
D.,
It seems you picked up on the Courbet thing. (I can’t really tell, but I’ll assume so.) He was an interesting character. Brilliant, original, bold, and a bit of a prick. Many, perhaps most, of his paintings were autobiographical. I do recall that he spent some time in prison for his support of the Communard rebellion. Monet and friends used to take him food. Rampant individualism and collectivism do not reconcile well.
I had to laugh out loud at the link to L’Origine du Monde. What I instantly thought was that Corbet was pretending to admire the pudenda, but in fact, was preening himself on his painting — the origin of the world not in women’s sex organs but in his painting.
Which isn’t to say that there isn’t something in that — what is it Wallace Stevens postulates in his Anecdote of the Jar?: “I placed a jar in Tennessee/ And round it was, upon a hill./ It made the slovenly wilderness/ Surround that hill…. The jar was round upon the ground/ And tall and of a port in air. It took dominion everywhere./ The jar was gray and bare. It did not give of bird or bush,/ Like nothing else in Tennessee.”
And of course, the poem begins with “I.”
An artist must have a certain amount of self-confidence — yes. A kind of pride — of course. Vanity I leave to the ages — “‘All is vanity,'” saith the lord.”
I always thought vanity was something others observed in us — the most vain of us scarcely notice our own foolish habits. Or perhaps we brag about them, like spitting in the wind or daring anyone to say otherwise. But in the end, we all come to the same thing. And the world, too, goes on without noticing.
Ah June,
What a gorgeous comment.
When, dear, will you make more posts?
Rex, this is perhaps not dictionary-accurate, but I’ve always thought of what you describe above as “self-confidence”. I think of “vanity” as being preoccupied w/ how others see us.
Rex,
You struck a chord in me when you mentioned the connection between vanity and its apparent necessity in artists… I very much agree with this and I sometimes think that it is my vanity that carries me through some of my artwork. Budding and largely unknown artists may not have the people nor the galleries to march with their works/cause. In such circumstances, it is the strength of conviction that their artworks ‘talk’ their minds that sometimes carries her/him forward. Yes I very much agree.
Is there a difference between vanity and having role models? I always had absurd role models. As a child, I thought the ultimate existence was that of Immanual Kant, thinking while taking walks. In my thirties, I bought a piano and played four hours a day, dreaming of Arthur Rubinstein’s life after immersing in his autobiographies. Later, at Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory, I thought it was normal to be hobnobbing with Nobel Price winners.
Presently, I have the desire to finish two really nice projects with my own hands (which required learning biochemistry) that, earlier, were botched by my biochemistry collaborators. Is this what Hilary calls her ‘responsibility gene’ or is it vanity?
David,
The advantage of saying “vanity” when one is talking about “self confidence” is that when someone else suggests you are vain, you can say, “Of course.”
That is much better than any explanation. I mean, don’t you just love making people’s eyes pop out sometimes by fielding intended snark so nonchalantly?
For a time, while writing for a college paper, I would not even put my name on the articles. One of my professors noticed this one day and commented. I told him, “I don’t need to sign the articles. Everyone knows only I write that way.”
His comment, “Ah. Not humility but the ne plus ultra of supreme vanity.”
Heh.
In an earlier version of this essay, I did, as I am wont, one of my word analysis things. “Pride” is another term with a dual sense. In the end, I concluded that “vain” was the appropriate word when one is trying to make up for a lack of some kind, and this requires a little self deception to pull off. I heard a motivational speaker describe this as “telling the truth in advance.”
The original thought here is that some strategic delusion is OK, helpful, and sometimes necessary. Besides. We all do it.
Ah, Rex,
Strategic delusion!!! That’s exactly right.
Different from vanity, I think, in that it allows one (like Birgit — and myself) to imagine ourselves in the company of Van Gogh — or Emily Carr for that matter.
And Birgit, Emily Carr (Canadian painter, mid-20th century) innovated my favorite bit of vanity. Like Emily Carr, I hang my visitor chairs on the wall in my studio. Carr brought hers down for visitors only after she had decided whether she wanted them to stay or not. Since I have few visitors, I haven’t been able to use that statement very often. But I sure like thinking of myself as in the company of Ms. Carr.
June,
Now we know, whether we are welcome visitors.
Thank you for introducing me to Emily Carr. I like her paintings a lot.
Hi Rex,
I have come across some of your blogs on Art and Perception.
I have quoted you in a literary review I am compiling for my third year of an Art Degree.
I need to research the validity of my sources and I can not find any information on you, which field you work in etc.
Please can you send me some info on yourself so I can add this to my review.
Thank you for your time.
Georgina