Letter to a Young Artist in the 21st Century. Written by MJDorian.

Dear Artist,

The world needs you.

You may not think that it does. And the world—it may not know that it does—but it needs you.

You might object and say: “I have nothing of value to add.” I would say: all creative work is inherently valuable. You might counter: “There’s so much art already out there, there is nothing missing which I can add.” I would say: you are missing. To which you might throw your hands up and admit: “I’m not very brave. And besides, the artist’s path is only meant for conceited and wealthy people.” You’re right—it does take some bravery. But to your other point: conceited and wealthy people often make mediocre art.

If you feel the compulsion for art, pulling you in its direction like a magnetic force, if you find meaning and value in creative work—then this is your path. The cells of your being are in need for it, and try as you might, to deny it would be to deny a part of yourself. But you’re right, it does take some bravery.

A universal truth of art: every creative act is an act of courage. To step onto a stage and bare your soul, to paint an honest self portrait, to dedicate years of your life to a passion project, to write out your innermost vulnerabilities in rhythmic verse…and to share these with people? That takes courage. Your artwork, as an act of courage, will inspire others, who will in turn inspire those around them with their work, and eventually, like a karmic loop, those you inspired will inspire you.

A universal truth of art: you will never feel good enough; even after decades of proving yourself. Only the very few ‘great artists’ are satisfied with where they are in their art, and even that is only temporary. Satisfaction leads to entropy and perfection is a fool’s errand. So what you want, instead, is the never ending pursuit to be better than you were yesterday—that is achievable, that is measurable.

Many great artists suffer from feelings of imposter syndrome. This is that inner voice of doubt and judgment which tells you “you don’t know what you’re doing, and sooner or later, people are going to realize it”. It’s a convincing argument, after all, artists don’t need any licenses or certificates to make artwork, so there are some uncertainties as to what ‘qualifies’ one to be an artist. To alleviate these feelings, artists sometimes pursue acquiring ‘formal training’ in their craft: filmmakers go to film school, tattoo artists start as apprentices, composers go to a conservatory, etc.

The purpose of formal education is to strengthen the foundational knowledge you have about your craft. But that education isn’t only found in expensive universities. If you can find a successful artist in your field whom you admire, taking an apprenticeship with them, or even an internship, can build that foundation stronger. This, in turn, will alleviate some of these feelings of imposter syndrome. But it’s important to remember that we’re not in the Middle Ages; you don’t need to join a guild to be skilled in your craft. Some of the most celebrated artists of human history never stepped foot into an art institute or a conservatory: Basquiat dropped out of high school and the Beatles never learned to read music. Though these creatives did still build their foundational knowledge through studying books, deliberate practice, and being part of a community of like-minded artists who they learned from.

A universal truth of art: there are only two paths for every artist—to create public work or to create private work. (The line between them is an illusion, but it is a necessary one.)

If you create public work, you will bare your chest to the world and watch people draw their bows. In turn, your work will effect change in the world, causing ripples outside of your immediate perception. In rare moments, a stranger or a friend will confess the profound effect that one of your creations had on them—these moments you will cherish.

If you are creating public work, you must reconcile yourself with this advice: accept critique, reject criticism. However much it may sting—accept critique, as it shows you the gaps where improvements can be made in your craft. However important it may seem—reject criticism, as it only shows the aesthetic differences between critic and artist, and not the merits of the work itself. Your challenge is to distinguish between the two; the advice of a close friend will aid in this.

Every creative act is an act of courage. Wear your conviction proudly and march forward with every fiber of your being. The world favors boldness in artists. In fact, an artist is not just allowed to be bold—we expect them to be. Artists are the only people in the world whom we give the rare permission to be strange. In truth, we even need them to be; because seeing an artist embodying something strange and bold gives us permission to be ourselves. In the pursuit of gaining the acceptance of others, it’s a lesson we all too easily forget.

If you create private work—work only meant for your own reflection, or for an audience of your inner circle—then you will be cultivating a rare and beautiful garden. In those experiences, your creative impulse becomes a tool for self reflection and the enrichment of the lives of those closest to you. There are few things more intimate than creating an artwork for an audience of one—this is the terrain of lovers and closest friends.

Who is your audience? At all times, this is an essential question you must answer with each new work. Knowing your intended audience alters your intentions while creating the work. Sometimes the answer will change after a work is finished—be ready for this. You will feel the difference as a perspective shifts from an audience of one to an audience of thousands. In some instances, the greatness of a public work is dependent on the candid quality of its perception as a private work—be aware of this—intimacy is intoxicating.

At times, the purpose of a creative work will not be clear, except for the compulsion to do it—this is when you know you are an artist—a vessel at sea guided only by intuition, on your journey toward new frontiers or potentially perilous ends. This uncertainty is the life-blood of art. If you grow comfortable in your work, then you are nearing stagnation. As the celebrated wordsmith, Bob Dylan, sang ‘he not busy being born is busy dying’. This will happen naturally if you follow the earlier advice: endeavor to be better than you were yesterday.

On the topic of public work there are traditionally two paths: gallery / museum work or commercial work. Both of these paths wind their way through separate industries, with their own rules, economics, and social hierarchies. To be successful in either path, you must learn everything about that particular industry. Just like you build up foundational knowledge about your craft, you must build up foundational knowledge about the art market or the commercial work industry.

One similarity between both fields is that your ultimate success is reliant on who you know. To aid in this, you will have to attend social events, dinner parties, networking events, gallery openings, virtual meetup groups, etc. At these events, as much as it may pain your introvert soul, you will need to learn to socialize. At times, you will have to leverage who you know to meet who you need to know. (Even outside of social event settings.) For example: asking a good friend to introduce you to someone they know who has connections you may need. This will feel like a shameless act, but if you cover it in a veneer of civility and spontaneity, no one will question it.

There is yet one more avenue for your public work which did not exist for artists in centuries past: the digital space. The advent of the internet opened up the opportunity for people on opposite ends of the Earth to connect with each other in an instant. Certain intrepid artists have continued to devise new ways to establish their persona online, grow audiences for their work, and in some cases, even earn an income from commissions and the sale of digital or physical artwork.

As liberating as this is from the traditional models of gallery work or commercial work, it does present its own challenges. Independent artists hoping to succeed in the digital space need to view themselves as a business; wearing the hats of a PR department, an advertising department, and a production studio all in one. It can be overwhelming, but if you have a certain entrepreneurial spirit, you may find that having full control of your work and identity is worth it. Though just like any business, you need to set goals and consider your strategies—hope is not a strategy and virality is never a guarantee—even for great artwork.

As a 21st century artist, you will need to determine your relationship to artificial intelligence and A.I generated art. This is something artists of the past didn’t need to contend with, but the sooner you determine that relationship, the better off you’ll be. Some say A.I. generated art is theft, based on the enormous pool of existing artwork that an A.I. program is trained on. Though in truth, all great artists are constantly inspired by other artists, and this exchange of ideas, methods, and styles, is integral to all creative work. The poet, T.S. Eliot once wrote: “Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets, make it into something better, or at least something different.” The idea that an A.I. can make meaningful art is troubling to traditional artists, as it presents a serious philosophical problem. But if great artists steal and A.I. programs steal—what’s the difference? Is it the soul of an artist and their life experiences—which are transmitted through their artwork—which are the missing pieces of the equation?

Whatever the case may be, two things are undeniably true: private work will continue unphased by A.I., as it depends upon intimate human-to-human contact; but commercial work will enter a new era, where A.I. generated artworks will be indistinguishable from human artworks. One area that A.I. programs excel is generating artwork that follows well established commercial trends—one can argue that commercial work is somewhat predictable in this way. If you are a commercial artist, you will need to integrate A.I. into your work process, for this simple reason: an artist who uses A.I. in their commercial work process will be twice as efficient as an artist who doesn’t or an A.I. alone (used by a non-artist). If we shift our perspective from seeing A.I. as competition, and instead, see it as a tool, what new frontiers of achievement are possible?

Despite what some early adopters of A.I. art programs say, human-made art is not going anywhere; the A.I.s have not won because there is no race. You cannot kill the compulsion for art in humans, it traces back to the first cave paintings of man—before agriculture and written language, and no doubt, even further back.

A universal truth of art: to be an artist means to be possessed by something unreasonable and be devoted to something impractical. In your pursuits as a creative, you’re always dedicated to a task of tremendous personal value and potential cultural value. To non-artists, the obsessive quality of your art-making may seem confusing. They may think: “All she wants to do is paint, that’s so boring.” or “Why is he always taking photos of everything?” or “I don’t get it, my son just sits in his room and sings the same song over and over again for hours.”

The unreasonable and impractical nature of art-making stands in contradiction to our modern Western way of life; ‘time is money’ as they say. You may find that your friends or parents are non-artists who don’t understand the value of your efforts, or may even perceive them as selfish. In this case, when a quiet moment of reflection presents itself, try to gently explain to them that ‘making art gives my life purpose and meaning’. If that doesn’t do the trick, be ready to follow-up with ‘it’s hard to explain, you know—it’s just who I am’. Once someone who cares about you understands that this work you do is meaningful to you, they will be more likely to give you the space and time to pursue it.

A universal truth of art: the artist soul thrives in liminality. Be careful of holding any views that are too rigid or immovable—as Einstein said ‘reality is a very persistent illusion’. The most creative energy is to be found in the interplay between the poles of duality and not at their extreme ends. Artists are born feeling the world intensely. To hold any socio-political viewpoint too strongly will minimize your empathy—a great artist needs a tremendous amount of empathy. At times, creating a work of art with a political statement may be unavoidable, but refrain from doing it often because there is no clear delineation between political art and propaganda.

A universal truth of art: solitude is sacred. The core of your most important work will be done in solitude. There is a certain reverence you eventually associate with this symbolic silence. As Marina Abramovic states in An Artist’s Life Manifesto: “An artist must make time for the long periods of solitude. Solitude is extremely important.” Many creatives who balance a day job & family life with their creative pursuits, work on their art in the early mornings or the late nights. It is in these sacred spaces that you most meaningfully engage with the contents of your soul, and where you transform the volcanic activity inside of you into something beautiful. As the poetess of Amherst, Emily Dickinson, so aptly described it: “A still—Volcano—Life—That flickered in the night…”

Art is not an option—it is a necessity. Remove creativity from a society, and within one generation, it will be drained of all life and color; its people will be incapable of self reflection and disoriented from their place in the universe.

This brings us to the final universal truth of art: creativity renews humanity and empowers the individual. This is your purpose, artist, you play a vital role in the larger human organism. Pick up your tools, however ephemeral they may be, and get to work—there is art to be done.