Heroic Effort in Artists

When I was young, when I heard the term, ‘heroic,’ I would normally think of a man (yes, a man, not a woman I hate to say it) encountering a great physical force, either the physical force of other people, or the brute force of nature or circumstance. Usually the hero would overcome the opposing force, but occasionally he would not, and instead perish at the hands of the opposing force; I believe this latter small sampling of heroic failures are thrown in there just so that the danger the surviving heroes face appear that much more potent.

I believe that for most boys raised in this country, the hero type is traditionally that of a male warrior. In perhaps the last hundred years or so, to that type were added two closely related types:

- The male sports hero
- The male political hero (Lincoln,Washington, FDR, JFK)

Again, all males struggling in great contests with others.

I try to teach my children other images of the hero, heroes engaged in struggle in other noble fields, such as the arts. These artists usually struggle against themselves – not in the cliché way of, ‘Oh, yer biggest enemy is yer own self!’ – but against the part of themselves that is stifling the manifestation of the infinite that the good artist conceives and desperately tries to get out. (Because, yes, there is a part of the soul of every great artist that tries to stifle him or her, and to prevent him from fruiting.)

Here are a few of the heroic artist stories I have told my children:

Giotto and the Perfect Circle – One day Pope Benedict IX decided he didn’t have enough portraits of himself, and that he should commission the portrait to end all, the one portrait done by the finest artist of Italy. So he sent some of his men out to find this artist. They were instructed to travel all across the land and from each artist they encountered they would request a drawing to show the artist's skill. When they returned the pope would examine all the drawings and judge who was the finest artist in Italy, and who was worthy of painting his portrait.

When the messenger arrived at Giotto’s studio (Giotto di Bondone, 1267-1337, generally considered the first of the great Italian Renaissance painters), he couldn’t be bothered with such silliness of having to prove how great an artist and draftsman he was. Finally, to get the papal messengers off his back (and who hasn't had trouble getting papal messengers off their backs!), he did the following:

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Giotto took a sheet of paper and a brush dipped in red, closed his arm to his side, and with a twist of his hand drew such a perfect circle that it was a marvel to see. 

Then, with a smile, he said to the courtier: "There's your drawing."


As if he were being ridiculed, the courtier replied: "Is this the only drawing I'm to have?"


"It's more than enough," answered Giotto. "Send it along and you'll see whether it's understood or not."

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Now here’s a man to admire. He is not impressed or cowed by mighty and powerful men of his day, but instead he is so confident of his own abilities that he can seemingly thumb his noses at the mighty, with impunity.

How Picasso Paid His Restaurant Bills – At the height of his powers, Picasso’s skill and renown was so great that he could do the following: He would go out to a restaurant with a large group of friends and retainers and they would all eat and drink all night. When it came time to pay the bill, Picasso would take the bill, flip it over, and scratch out a quick drawing. He would then give the drawing as payment for the night’s festivities, and the restaurant owner would accept it! The owner would know that the value of one simple drawing from the master’s hand would easily exceed the cost of one night’s food and drink for Picasso’s party.

Can you imagine being so good at something (and mind you, something so peaceable and humane as the visual arts) that a couple minutes of your effort in that field is equal to several days of another person’s ordinary work?

Richie Havens Opens Woodstock – Richie Havens was originally scheduled to go on fifth at Woodstock, but due to scheduling difficulties and general chaos he was thrown on the stage first. He played for hours, so long that he ran out of songs.  But the crowd was wild for him and demanded that he come back over and over again. Finally, totally out of material, we improvised a version of the song “Motherless Child” where he repeated the word “freedom” over and over. This became one of the great moments of one of the great concerts of music history. Here’s a clip:

If you watch this, you’re probably not aware that this was mostly improvised, that Havens was channeling the muse, utterly; and what a place to be touched by the muse, in front of a crowd of hundreds of thousands!

Can you imagine such a moment occurring in today’s carefully choreographed and staged concerts? More importantly, can you imagine any musician today just surrendering to the muse in front of a crowd of hundreds, let alone hundreds of thousands? To do so requires an incredible faith in the power of the muse to direct your human hands and voice to create great art. I suspect several musicians of the present day of having this faith, but I haven’t seen or heard of it actually being displayed to the same degree as Havens did.

I first told my kids this story several months back, and happily I was able to see Havens live in concert for the first time this past weekend! He’s in his late 60s but he still puts on a great show, with a lot more energy and passion than you see in many people a third his age. I consider him a personal role model and I hope that I can continue to feel the same passion for music when I’m his age. He is truly a great soul.