Many professional artists have a statement of purpose. I.e., why we do what we do. Having a statement of purpose is a good idea. I’d say it is critical to the creation of art, be it a painting, a novel, a screenplay, or music. The first question I ask my painting students is, What is your purpose for this painting? I don’t let them lay a stroke on their canvas until they can articulate that purpose. Otherwise, it’s akin to driving with no destination in mind. Mindlessness is not conducive to good art. 

Following is my Artist’s Statement (found under my About heading). 

My mission is twofold: to present to you an honest, vulnerable response to life. It is when we are vulnerable that we truly connect with one another. 

Seeing the world with vulnerable eyes is the beginning of seeing. Without humility, without recognizing our fallible nature, we are blind to the splendor of people and nature.

Vulnerability is risky. We are prone to protect ourselves, which is critical for survival. On the surface, art seems a luxury, an accessory.  I would argue that art is necessary to survival. Art reveals what the sciences cannot. The arts reveal our nature, inclinations, prejudices, loves, dreams. Art changes lives and therefore changes worlds. Who hasn’t listened to a piece of music, read a novel, been absorbed in a painting and not be moved to a higher level of awareness. 

Art that moves is not timid. It is borne in the depths of vulnerability. For whence comes awareness. And awareness is key to change, reaction, wisdom, humility, survival together. 

Not too long ago, I was taken by surprise by something that I had assumed was universal: I thought everyone got inspired by the beauty around us. Every morning, when I see the play of light upon the land, the trees, buildings, I can’t help but smile and be inspired to respond. At those moments, looking past the rush of life and tyranny of the urgent, I am reminded that life is beautiful, rich with hope eternal.

When I asked others if they felt the same way, I heard a flat “No, not really. I hadn’t noticed.” Answers reflecting a void, unaware they had missed a grand event. Life has a way of doing that- of getting us caught up in the routine, missing the glorious. I have begun to see that it is true what my art predecessors Robert Henri and Charles Hawthorne have noted- that it’s the artist’s task to show the world the beauty in the mundane.

My lack of sight (1% of yours) and hearing (20% of yours) means that I am at once focused and oblivious. I see and hear a fraction of what you do, yet I must be locked in. Without the distraction of peripheral noise and sights, I tend to ruminate on what I take in. What seems to really matter, then, is the relationship between two entities: us and our Maker. Painting and writing are my means of observing and exploring this relationship. 

~Timothy Chambers