About the ‘Artist’

Oh, I didn’t know you were an artist! I’m not; I paint pictures. What, actually, is an artist? The word is a fairly recent addition to the language and really only got traction in the 19th century. Before that time, painters like me were classified as artisans or craftsmen. Naturally, they were of a lower social class than those who commissioned their work. This comfortable social order became upset when, culminating in the Victorian era, a class of gentlemen began painting pictures, making furniture, producing books and designing fabrics. How could Victorian society cope with a group of men of high birth who went around covered in wood chips and stinking of linseed oil? It became necessary to distinguish between the lowly artisan and the highly cultured creator, and so Bohemianism was born; a nice comfortable category that kept everyone happy. (Yes, he smells funny, but he’s a gentleman.) These practitioners became called – and started calling themselves – artists. Art, which used to mean craftiness – in many senses of the word – now acquired its capital A, raising it to a proper noun. The Art World is populated by folk who often daub with no more skill than mine, but do so under the flag of Art. Well, I’ll have none of that. I’m an artisan to the core. My problem is, I turn my hand to too many things to do any of them well. Perhaps if I did painting and nothing else I could call myself an artist? No. Boring. I just like creating stuff and I don’t get high falutin’ about it.

But, even though naïve, my paintings are kind of nice to look at, aren’t they?