ENTHUSIASM

“It must take so much discipline to be an artist,” we are
often told by well-meaning people who are not artists but
wish they were. What a temptation. What a seduction.
They’re inviting us to preen before an admiring audience, to
act out the image that is so heroic and Spartan—and false.

It  don’t   mean    a   thing   if  it  ain’t   got that    swing.

DUKE    ELLINGTON

AND IRVING  MILLS

As artists, grounding our self-image in military discipline
is dangerous. In the short run, discipline may work, but it
will work only for a while. By its very nature, discipline is
rooted in self-admiration. (Think of discipline as a battery,
useful but short-lived.) We admire ourselves for being so
wonderful. The discipline itself, not the creative outflow,
becomes the point.
That part of us that creates best is not a driven, disciplined
automaton, functioning from willpower, with a booster of
pride to back it up. This is operating out of self-will. You
know the image: rising at dawn with military precision,
saluting the desk, the easel, the drawing board ...
Over any extended period of time, being an artist requires