“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

You are still learning. Your work is still developing. How truly unfortunate you would be (louder) if that were not the case. There is always a kind of artistic dissatisfaction that any artist feels, any true artist, with work that is completed—for the true artist is always aware of the difference between the sensed ideal and its created actualization—but that is the dimension in which the artist has his being (intently). That is the atmosphere in which his mental and physical work is done, for he always feels the tug and pull, and the tension, between the sensed ideal and its manifestation.

So in a certain fashion the artist is “looking for a creative solution to a sensed but never clearly stated problem or challenge, and that involves him in artistic adventure. It is an adventure that is literally unending—and it must be one that has no clearly stated destination, in usual terms (intently). In the most basic of ways, the artist cannot say where he is going, for if he knows ahead of time he is not creating but copying, or following a series of prescribed steps like a mathematician.

We are back to self-disapproval, of course, but I want you to understand that while self-disapproval is a problem for most people in your society, it is a problem for the artist particularly, because it is the artist who must trust himself or herself most of all, and it is the artist who must often have no other approval to count upon.

The difficulties with the hand were not meant to threaten your artistic self. [...] They were meant, in some instances, to protect your artistic self, if you recall our last session. [...] The unconscious was not (underlined) threatening your artistic self. [...]

Do not specifically relate the behavior of the hand with your artistic self or artistic abilities in your suggestions, but in a general manner to the natural health of your being and easy flow of your ideas outward. [...]

The understanding that the artistic self was not being threatened should allow you to relax sufficiently for the suggestions to take effect more. [...] You felt, if it were threatening your artistic self, what could you expect from it when you had always supposed previously that it upheld the creative drive? [...]

If the artist paints a doorway, all of the sensed perspectives within it open, and add further dimensions of reality. Since this is our analogy, we can stretch it as far as we like — far further than any artist could stretch his canvas (leaning forward humorously). Therefore, there is no need to limit ourselves. The canvas itself can change size and shape as the artist works. The people in the artist’s painting are not simple representations either — to stare back at him with forever-fixed glassy eyes, or ostentatious smiles (again humorously), dressed in their best Sunday clothes. Instead, they can confront the artist and talk back. They can turn sideways in the painting and look at their companions, observe their environment, and even look out of the dimensions of the painting itself and question the artist.

Now the psyche in our analogy is both the painting and the artist, for the artist finds that all of the elements within the painting are portions of himself. More, as he looks about, our artist discovers that he is literally surrounded by other paintings that he is also producing. As he looks closer, he discovers that there is a still-greater masterpiece in which he appears as an artist creating the very same paintings that he begins to recognize.

(Long pause.) Let us try another analogy: You are an artist in the throes of inspiration. [...]

[...] Later you believed that artists should be artists. [...] The concerns of the world, its progress or lack of it, the nature of existence—none of those issues would interfere with such an artistic vision. [...]

You are aware of the nonsense connected with artists and poets and so forth—that they are too sensitive for the world, that great talent brings spiritual desolation, and that a man’s genius more often destroys him than fulfills him. Add to that list the belief that the great artist or writer concentrates upon his or her art so intensely and single-mindedly, and single-heartedly, that the focus itself forces the artist or poet to use those abilities to their utmost, or that great genius demands one-sided vision and a denial of the world. [...]

He was, in a fashion only, sexually ambiguous, his mathematics expressing what he thought of as an acceptable male aspect while the artistic levels in his mind, now, he related to his feminine aspects. [...]

Sex became dangerous—not to protect your persons—which would be delighted, but to protect your rigid, limited ideas of your “artistic selves”—the writer and the artist might be threatened, and so your personal lives must suffer, and the persons be shoved away.

[...] So you thought of yourself as an artist, primarily, and judged your success, or lack of it, through that focus, and generally through that focus only.

Viewing you as he viewed himself, using the same logic, he was afraid however that basically you felt our work a detriment to your own, and that its success, while pleasing you on the one hand, might prevent you from success as an artist because you would not have the time, and that you would basically resent it. [...]

[...] There is always a kind of artistic dissatisfaction that any true artist feels with work that is completed, for he is always aware of the tug and pull, and the tension, between the sensed ideal and its manifestation. In a certain fashion the artist is looking for a creative solution to a sensed but never clearly stated problem or challenge, and it is an adventure that is literally unending. [...] In the most basic of ways, the artist cannot say where he is going, for if he knows ahead of time he is not creating but copying.

“The true artist is involved with the inner workings of himself with the universe—a choice, I remind you, that he or she has made, and so often the artist does indeed forsake the recognized roads of recognition. [...] By its nature art basically is meant to put each artist of whatever kind into harmony with the universe, for the artist draws upon the same creative energy from which birth emerges.”

[...] I try to straddle your definitions—but flowers, for example, in a fashion see themselves as their own artistic creations. [...] But nature seeks to outdo itself in terms that are most basically artistic, even while those terms may also include quite utilitarian purposes. The natural man, then, is a natural artist. [...]

[...] Before the reorganization this year Artistic dealt with many artists and firms in the northeastern states, including New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island and Massachusetts. [...] Without the card from which the envelope object was taken however, I cannot track down any specific artist or company.)

[...] Some narrow metal rectangular compartment, apart from others of its kind, and there is a connection with the artist here. That is, it has been kept aside because of something having to do with the artist.

(Seth refers to a young artist I work with. I am not sure just when Curt joined Artistic, except that it was probably after 1963. [...]

[...] Earlier, it was all that you knew—that is, both of you more and more in young years began to identify with what you thought of as your artistic selves, more or less to the exclusion of other portions of the self.

[...] You chose to concentrate in artistic endeavors as you grew and learned through various areas and periods—that is, you tried and enjoyed sports, and writing; and after a while decided upon the painting self as your core of operation, and the particular focus upon which you would build a life.

[...] The sportsman, the writer or the artist—any of them would utilize that background differently, but well, and in such a way that it was particularly suited.

[...] Now, that is legitimate as an artistic judgment—but it is illegitimate as a moral judgment. There is nothing wrong or inferior about the people at Prentice, who made the “improper” artistic decision. It is not immoral or wrong not to have excellent artistic judgment. [...] They are individuals, doing their best to develop their abilities and their lives—but your indignation was moral in narrow terms, rather than in quite acceptable artistic ones. [...]

[...] He immediately makes a moral judgment against a poet whose material is artistically poor. The person involved may indeed have difficulty artistically in expression, and an artistic revulsion can then be quite acceptable, but not a moral one.

You two have largely worked alone, and your work goals involve of course the development of personality characteristics that must apply to artistic work. [...]

[...] For instance, she doesn’t particularly admire Spanish artists, or talk of any one or group of such artists, etc.)

[...] It is easier to feel yourself as the artist, also a part of the landscape that you paint; to sense the merging of your own energy into the scene before you, and to realize that you are a part of it also. [...]

You as artist, symbolically speaking, should not step backward to see the landscape more clearly, but step into it so that you can feel it more clearly. [...]

Now: An artist produces a body of work in his lifetime. [...] The actual work involved in the selection of data is still made according to the beliefs in the artist’s conscious mind as to who he is, how good an artist he is, what kind of artist he is, what “school” of artistic beliefs he subscribes to, his ideas of society and his place in it, and esthetic and economic values, to name but a few.

[...] Inner images are of great importance to the artist. [...] Again, you are each your own artist, and your inner visualizations become models for other situations and events. The artist utilizes training and mixes his colors in order to give artistic flesh to his painting. [...]

[...] Economically it might also destroy the artist who was the woman’s husband. To have a child might help fulfill the man she was married to, but this could destroy the artist she was married to. [...]

[...] These slants fit in with his artistic purposes as he understood them. [...]

[...] Ruburt expected her husband, the man, to show spontaneous love and affection, and to supply emotional richness, which she was willing to nurture—but she expected the artist—who happened to be her husband—to protect himself from any emotional response that might interfere with his work.

[...] An artist is free to use his ability as far as his person is free. [...] The writer’s or the artist’s intuitions, sensibilities, inspirations come through his person, through his experiences and temperament. [...]

[...] Ruburt married an artist first and a male secondly. [...]

[...] To be too womanly might bring about the catastrophe of childbirth, and in the terms in which you both operated once, destroy you as artists.

[...] The idea of the spare, poor young artist or writer, living romantically in a garret or poor apartment, has served as a handy self-image for many in their early years, providing a sense of dignity that enabled such apprentices to make their way. [...] You purposely chose a time involved in which writers and artists had it “hard”—so you cannot turn around then and blame the society. [...] You used your dexterity in “artistic” ways in your jobs—but the bulk of your artistic yearnings were divorced completely from the world at large. [...]

When you worked in an art department, even though you knew you were doing “commercial work,” society referred to you as an artist. [...]

[...] Rather than avail yourselves of its great refreshment, you thought of the time taken from your work, each of you; beside this Ruburt feared pregnancy, seeing a child not as any kind of fulfillment, but as an artistic and economic disaster.

[...] In the eras of the great artists, civilization was united by a series of revelations, ideas and also distortions. The artist was an important part of his society.

The artist became at that point truly an initiator, no longer supported by the cultural society. While the majority were still immersed in the old, the artists were already experimenting with the new, and became to some extent outlaws to their own people.

[...] I made the extra effort to explain these concerns to Jane because I feel it’s part of the resurgence I seem to be experiencing since we made the decision that I leave Artistic at the end of this month.)

[...] You believe you can make money—if you are a commercial artist, or if you take a job, or if you do almost anything else but your best work as an artist. You believe you are a good artist—a simple declarative belief. Between the two beliefs however there is some conflict, since you believe you also need money for your self-respect, but that you cannot get it by being an artist, which you feel is your focus of identity, and highly concerned with self-respect.

[...] For a while, as given much earlier, he was worried about money, believing poverty the mark of the artist. [...]

The fact that you did do our notes gave you confidence, while you did not feel threatened by failure as an artist. [...]

(8:53.) Early artists hoped to understand the very nature of creativity itself as they tried to mimic earth’s forms. [...] The true artist in those terms was always primarily—in your terms again—a psychic or a mystic. [...]

(Pause.) The two of you thought of yourselves specifically as a writer—or rather a poet—and an artist before our sessions began. [...]

You identified primarily now, as a poet and an artist because those designations, up to that time, seemed most closely to fit your abilities and temperaments. [...]

[...] Those images were like an entire artistic language. Using them, the artist automatically commented upon the world, the times, God, man, and officialdom.

In a fashion, those stylized figures that stood for the images of God, apostles, saints, and so forth, were like a kind of formalized abstract form, into which the artist painted all of his emotions and all of his beliefs, all of his hopes and dissatisfactions. [...] The point is that the images the artists were trying to portray were initially mental and emotional ones, and the paintings were supposed to represent not only themselves but the great drama of divine and human interrelationship, and the tension between the two. [...]

[...] Artists decided to stick to portraying the natural world as they saw it with their natural eyes, and to cast aside the vast field of inner imagery. Some of da Vinci’s sketches already show that tendency, and he is fascinating because with his undeniable artistic tendencies he also began to show those tendencies that would lead toward the birth of modern science.

[...] I would suggest, Joseph, that you received the early idea that a true artist could not be wealthy. You knew subconsciously that you were an artist. The moment that you consciously realized you were an artist, you ceased the attempt to make good money, fearing it would rob you of your ability.

It did not you see before you realized that you were basically an artist, because then the two elements of talent and money were not in contact. You could have made a much less painful transition between complete commercialism and painting than you did, but here at a crucial moment was starry-eyed Ruburt, with his ideas of the poverty-stricken artist; and you can carry on from there.

[...] Therefore, if you believe for example that excellent artists must be poverty stricken, then this will be a part of your overall expectation framework; and for you it will indeed be, and exist as, a truth.

[...] The members of this family actually serve to point out the unrealized capacity of the flesh — even as, for example, great Sumari artists might give clues as to the artistic abilities inherent, but not used, in the species as a whole. [...]

[...] They are behind art schools, for instance, though they may not be artists themselves. [...]

[...] In a way they are equally related to the family just mentioned (Gramada), and to the Sumari, for they stand between the organized system and the creative artist. [...]