Some time ago, back in the nineties, an acquaintance said to me that I had been wise in my choice of alibi. I smiled and pretended not to understand, preferring to pass on the chance to respond adequately; I felt it was better that way because there's always too much at stake at an opening to jeopardise the outcome giving-in to the venom of the odd jealous colleague. He made it sound like a compliment but I believe to have understood that he implied that my travels to India and the inspiration I got, and used unashamedly, back in those days were being perceived by some as an excuse not to tackle more `serious and pertinent issues' more in keeping with my contemporaries. But the more I thought it over the more I came to realise that he hadn't intended it as criticism but actually believed that finding the perfect alibi was part of the artist's task. This worried me because in my view it isn't.

I would say that I started to see and accept myself more as an artist when it became clear to me that those moments I spent behind the canvas could not be moments of escape. This took some time though. While I was at college that is what they were: a refuge from a track I no longer wanted to follow along - painting felt good and made me feel alive in places I'd forgotten, but it was an escape. And it remained an escape as long as I failed to act on it and redress the situation - ten years [`75 to `85]. Too long, and it seemed at times an almost impossible feat.

What changed, then? What is it [apart from the process of learning as much of the `trade' as you possibly can, obviously] that transforms the pass-time into a serious pursuit, one that may result in you finding your own voice? Is it commitment? Passion? The realisation and acceptance of a calling? Is it the time you spend on it? All of these can apply to the pass-time and yet they don't necessarily make up the artist.

Fundamentally, I think that it has to do with a feeling that the artist acquires that his activity as an artist is not an escape, that the other aspects of his life are the escapes, the distractions that keep him from doing what he needs to do above anything else. For a `picture' to even get a chance at ever becoming a `work of art' the artist has to be PRESENT, he can't be there simply to pass the time or hiding away. So, this idea that I had found an alibi, that perhaps I was hiding behind an exotic excuse [or that I could be perceived as doing so], came to me as a shock. So much so that, as you can see, I still think about it to this day. But while I'm dieing to disclaim that what he said carries any weight, I am fully aware that I am walking along the razor's edge.

There is a yes side and a no side to this alibi business. If you take a few steps back you'll see that it can be seen from at least two different perspectives:

When you choose a subject matter and immerse yourself in it you do, in a sense, `loose' yourself. One could argue that you are no longer there, that you are not present and that the subject matter is indeed an alibi that proves that you were elsewhere. I can see how to the common man this may be perceived as an escape: you've left the `habitual world' and have become absent. However, this particular acquaintance was an artist, he should have known better.

When the artist becomes one with his subject-matter there is no escape in the sense of not being there. This `loosing oneself' is really a `finding oneself', and in a certain way the artist acquires a new Presence, or quality of presence. He is not escaping anything, he is fully engaging. Ultimately, it is how well the artist succeeds in transporting us into the depths of the vision he went after that will `save' him.

Perhaps what this acquaintance had meant to say was that I had been fortunate in my choice of muse. But then I would still have to argue that you don't go about choosing a muse like you go selecting cheese or fine-meats in a supermarket; those are momentary fads, ephemeral tastes, they help pass the time, they provide a pleasant getaway. It works the other way around: the muse chooses you and leaves you without a choice. Your muse, if you are ever fortunate that she find you, takes you on a roller-coaster ride that is exhilarating and dangerous in one single go, she sweeps you off your feet whether you are ready or not, she calls for your constant attention and demands total commitment - she urges you to be present for her at all times and makes you feel it when you're not. She rewards you with many things on many levels and only asks that you deliver on the promise of ART.

The alibi will never do that for you, and it shows. It shows abundantly. Maybe that's what he was saying and it was wise of me to remain silent and constantly think about his words to this day, mindful that a hell of a lot more work must be put in to the task.

By Jose Freitas Cruz for absolutearts.com


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