Sign Near New Mexico State Prison

Here’s a post that punctuates my point in the previous entry.

This road sign is on the Turquoise Highway near a large state prison facility in New Mexico.

We can deduce this sign was put up after a hapless driver couldn’t conclude the “obvious” and picked up an escaped inmate. So, it seems the good sense of not picking up a hitchhiker near the prison was far from obvious—which is a cousin to assume, a word that can get you into plenty of trouble.

For an artist, the misguided concept of “obvious” is tantamount to work that lacks originality, invention, and vision.

Bathers by a River, 1909, 1913, and 1916

Henri Matisse
French, 1869-1954

Painter Henri Matisse considered this large painting to be among his most pivotal; note that he didn’t say one of his best.

The other day I watched an interview of two curators, one from The Art Institute of Chicago, and the other from MOMA. They were discussing the show they helped mount: Matisse: Radical Invention, 1913-1917.

During the interview, the MOMA curator uttered “obvious” at least five times—once was too many.

As many of you who read this blog and my book, An Artist Empowered, know: obvious is on my verboten list of words, and for good reason. Obvious is empty calories; it means being apparent or self-evident (much better alternatives) to everyone.

So, when the curator stumbles again with: “It wasn’t immediately obvious,” we understand that this sentence is flawed and meaningless. When then did it become obvious? When did “everyone” get it?  Was there a vote? Remember, Jefferson penned: “We hold these truths to be self-evident. . .” He avoided the “obvious” trap. Self-evident implies mindfulness; obvious implies the mob rule of rote—repeating without comprehension.

There is nothing obvious about art—in making it or appreciating it; if art were obvious, then everyone would recognize your genius now, in the present moment. Removing obvious from your vocabulary strengthens both your character and art. You will be rewarded as your mind finds new inventions and trade routes in a sea of stagnate hope, change, and mindlessness. 

Aldo resting in his mini-aviary

If you’ve been following my remarkable storyline with Aldo, my wild rescued young parakeet, read on. If not, simply type in “aldo” in the search box to come up to speed.

Today, Aldo made the next move toward trust; he had grabbed my finger in the past for millet; however, this time he stepped up onto my palm where he enjoyed his millet treat. Aldo’s display of trust was priceless.

I specifically owe this progress to Robin, a member of the Talk Budgies Forum. I had watched her invaluable training video about having her wild parakeet, Strider, walk onto her palm. I simply followed her lead, which has taken some 5 weeks for Aldo to step onto my palm.

And all this without depriving Aldo of food as a motivator—which Robin called the fast track—and least desirable.

There is no fast track to art, either. You must learn to trust your own self in a sea of endless opinions and groping hands.