The Reign of the Mighty Fears

Mathieu Laca, Eminence, 2010 (private collection)

I am not an artist. I would love to be an artist, but I am not. You don’t decide to be an artist as you decide to be an accountant or a butcher. I love art. I love an artist. Being married to an artist, I am married to art. That’s probably why I married an artist!

Since art is our life, I try to help. I build stretchers, crates; I build frames. Sometimes I build rather elaborate frames that involve carving and gold leafing. That way, I stay in close touch with oil paint and turpentine. These odors are part of our lives and I can’t imagine staying away from them for a very long time.

But nevertheless, I envy artists. I think it is a blessing to be the way they are. When I look at their work, I say to myself: “How lucky they are to be able to create without fear!” As for myself, every time I start a new framing project, I am surrounded by fears. I am afraid I might not be able to make a better frame than the last one. Afraid that the plan I have in my mind might be impossible to carry out. Afraid that the frame might not be appropriate for the painting, too big, too small, too flashy, too dull, too dark, too bright. Afraid that the finished frame, built, sanded, “gessoed”, covered with Armenian bole and gold leaves might just be a quarter of an inch too small, you know the I-forgot-to-add-two-times-the-width-of-the-plank situation? Did you ever ask an artist if he could cut his painting just a quarter of an inch to fit in your frame?

It’s probably because I am not an artist, because I didn’t receive that blessing, because my fears are ruled by the respect I have for art that I get so mad when I see artists being surrounded by fears. Artists might not be rich, they might not be loved by everyone, they might be criticized, hated sometimes, but being artists, they should be free. What’s the purpose of creating if you are not free?

In 1948, Paul-Émile Borduas wrote the “Refus Global”. In this admirable manifesto, he wrote: “And fear in its many forms no longer ruled the land”. Lucky for him he is not with us anymore. How disappointed would he be seeing artists submerged with “fear of prejudice - of public opinion - of persecution - of general reprobation - fear of being alone without God or a society that inevitably isolates us - fear of ourselves - of our brothers - of poverty - fear of the established order - of absurd laws - fear of fresh relations - fear of the surrational - fear of internal drives - fear of opening the floodgates of our faith in man - in the society of the future - fear of anything that might trigger a transforming love”!

How sad it is to hear artists talking about their work and beginning with: “I would love to… but…” More and more, I have the feeling that the world of Art is under the reign of mighty fears. “I would love to paint this or that but I have to eat!” “I would love to paint this or that but nobody will accept to show my work”. We don’t hear anymore about those fabulous revolutions caused by artists daring to show what they feel should be shown. No! We fear bad reactions at a few inoffensive caricatures. We look at priceless works of art being taken away from the walls of government buildings and replaced with cheap royal portraits without puking. We accept that our government treats our artists like shit without saying a word.

Some of us even think that self-censorship might be a virtue.

We paint nudes that are nothing else but eunuchs. And people applaud.

Sickening!

Comeau