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Art of the Soul

by Jim Wolford-Ulrich

I used to romanticize what my life as an artist would be like. First, I pictured being able to dress any way I wanted. If someone said, “you haven’t shaved in three days,” I’d say “I don’t have to – I’m an artist!” And that answer would be all the excuse I’d ever need. Instantly, everyone would understand, accept me, and appreciate me for the free spirit I am.

Then I pictured having my own workshop and studio. It would be located in natural, pleasant surroundings, well-lit and spacious. It would contain all the equipment I’d ever want or need. My photography would be hanging everywhere. People would come in and stand in awe, ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ as they walked around the room. And while they would be telling me how wonderful my work is, their hand would be reaching for their wallet.

Of course, I would still go out and take pictures once in a while. I would travel to exotic locations and be out walking at sunrise and sunset – the best times of day to shoot the kinds of images I like to take. During the day, I’d sightsee and lounge around the pool at a first class hotel with my wife who would accompany me.

“Who am I becoming in the process of creating art?”

Then there would be my store – make that a whole chain of stores – located in the world’s most exclusive shopping malls and trendiest districts. Each location would carry a huge inventory of my work; people would spend hours looking at all my images. A full time designer would display my work in the most compelling ways, and friendly salespeople would advise the well-to-do how my art would enrich their homes and their lives.

Some people might be amused by my fantasy, and others would simply say, “If that’s your dream – go and make it happen!” (Sort of a ‘build it and they will come’ mentality.) And while my romantic ideal of an artist’s life may in fact inform what I do day by day as an artist, it leaves one essential question begging for an answer: who am I becoming in the process of creating art?

The “who am I / who am I becoming” question is actually at the core of what it means to be an artist – or, for that matter, a human being. It’s a question that begs to be answered by those who call art their profession, as well as by those in every other walk of life. My fantasy is built around externalities – the material things of this world. And material things are good: after all, a photograph is made of paper, inks and dyes – all very physical realities.

Someone could actually take my fantasy apart one piece at a time and create a business plan from it, complete with project milestones, capital requirements and a staffing plan. Making my dream a reality and doing it ‘artfully,’ however, is far more than strategy, or having the right vision, or even having a worthy intent or achieving success in socially and environmentally responsible ways. Creating art and living life artfully require more of us.

I believe each of us is put here on earth to do ‘soul work.’ We do soul work in many ways, but the outcome is always the same: a greater capacity to love and serve others, a deeper understanding (and living out) of our purpose in life, a conscious effort to develop and make creative use of our talents and opportunities, and a full and unconditional embracing of ourselves as essentially spiritual beings.

“Creating art and living life artfully require more of us."

Obviously, doing soul work is a lifelong process. We never arrive at the goal; there’s always more work to be done. Rather than become discouraged by this, we can choose to enjoy the dance. To be sure, there are obstacles and setbacks. Sometimes it’s the foibles of our own will or giving in to our fears that impedes progress. In life, we suffer injustices and indignities and are always constrained by things we cannot change. Ultimately, our bodies die. Yet we can celebrate small victories along the way.

If we know that soul work is our ultimate reason for being here, then it becomes the standard by which everything else is measured. I may indeed achieve my dream of being a renowned photographer whose work is highly valued and widely distributed. If I somehow manage to achieve my material dream, yet hold a grudge against every gallery owner who refuses to show my work, curse every critic who pans my art, berate every lab technician who mishandles my photos, or misrepresent the quality of my matting and framing materials to customers – what have I done to my soul?

Nor is it a matter of just making sure the gains outweigh the losses. Even if I could measure the pleasure I bring to people who enjoy my art or the damage that anger does to another person’s spirit, even if I help many people discover beauty in the world and succeed in hiding from them my dislike for those who reject my art – I am the less because of it. Being an artist is fundamentally about holding my gift with integrity, so that my art springs forth from me as a whole, undivided person. I want my work to be a true reflection of my creative gift – so that, if possible, people who view a photograph of mine pay attention to the truth I was paying attention to at the moment I took the picture!

So much for the high and lofty (for the moment). There is a lot of mundane work involved in taking photographs. Whether it’s getting out of bed before sunrise or manipulating the tripod, aperture and shutter speed controls, or poring over scads of slides spread out on a light board, or managing the physical inventory of hundreds of slides and prints, there’s a lot to do just to produce one good image. Yet even the mundane is fertile ground for accomplishing soul work.

As I pull a filter out of its box or a lens out of its case, I am mindful that I am blessed to have tools like these. I admire the craftsmanship of the lens-makers, and I enjoy the feel of the cold, solid cylinder in my hand. I’m excited about the opportunity to discover something beautiful around me and also energized to meet the technical challenge of representing what I see in an authentic and artful way. Because of that opportunity and challenge, I feel more alive.

To paraphrase Thomas Edison, “creativity is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.” Creating and displaying quality art requires lots of hard work – work that may not actually require the giftedness of a Rembrandt or the genius of a Picasso. Yet it’s all part of the finished product. Michelangelo spent years lying on his back painting the Sistene Chapel. Why did he do it? We can offer many reasons, but we must not forget to include that in the process of painting he was also doing soul work. I have actually caught myself looking at another artist’s work and calculating its ‘worth’ based on time and materials. The 1% inspiration has an intangible (and subjective) worth, to be sure, but what about the price that the artist paid in the form of dedication and sacrifice?

Now let’s turn back to the 1% inspiration. I believe there’s important soul work to be done there too. I used to think that creativity came to an artist in a blinding flash, as if the artist’s soul were a vessel for the divine spark, an incubator for truth and beauty. And perhaps I identify with that notion in the sense that sometimes I come up with a really good idea, say, for composing a picture or for placing two really different images side by side. A sculptor, for example, can imagine a totally new shape even before setting chisel to stone. Sometimes as a photographer I make a picture – as opposed to just take a picture of what is already there. But I believe the genius of any one work of art consists of more than just the ‘pure creativity’ of the moment it was conceived.

When I am out, camera in hand, looking for the right subject for a photograph, I find that I must first pay attention. I must heed the still, small voice within me that says, “look over there,” or “pay attention to that.” I have to pay attention to how I feel about the different choices I have. Doing soul work also requires being aware of issues in my life that need working on and the different choices I have in dealing with them. In photography when I don’t pay attention, I wind up wasting film and squandering opportunities. In life when I fail to reflect on what is happening to my soul, I lose the opportunity to grow, and I risk hurting others as well.

I also find that trusting my instincts and having the courage to move forward with my choices are also integral parts of nurturing my soul. After I develop a roll of film, for example, I may have fifteen or sixteen slides, all of the same subject. Knowing which one to choose for showing or sale requires paying attention (again) to minute differences among them, to how I feel about those differences, and more importantly to how I feel about the ‘best’ image.

“Even the mundane is fertile ground for accomplishing soul work.”

For me, a moment of truth comes when I ask myself: “Does this image faithfully represent the beauty I saw when I took the photo?” “Is the image technically excellent?” “Are the feelings this image evokes in me congruent with the truth I feel called to communicate to others?” And, “am I proud to have this image associated with me, with my name, and with my life’s work?”

At times I agonize over throwing an image away or just putting it in my “for family and friends” file. In the long run, though, I know I am making the right decision because I am protecting my integrity and remaining true to my self and my convictions about my art. I do ask for others’ opinions about my work, and I grow in my understanding of my art as I learn from them. But ultimately I am responsible for the work I do, for what I make of my talent, and for who I am becoming as I create art.

Criticism can play a useful role both in developing my art and in doing my soul work. Often others have wonderful insights that had not occurred to me, or they suggest a fruitful avenue for me to pursue. Even when their comments are destructive, I am left to discern whether there is an element of truth in what they say that I can learn from. It takes much faith and courage to continue believing in one’s art when others fail to appreciate it.

Today with the emergence of global markets and mass marketing through the internet, we may safely assume that more art is being bought and sold today than ever before. I believe that the marketplace affords both artist and art connoisseur opportunities for doing soul work. We could, of course, approach art from a purely commercial point of view. After all, art can be produced and consumed in almost industrial fashion, and those who make markets in art can focus on material transactions, maximizing margins and preserving value. But isn’t there more than that?

A famous composer once likened art to the “currency of the soul.” We get a sense of this when considering the way an audience witnesses and participates in the creation of a live performance, whether musical or theatrical. In the visual arts as well, artists can connect on a soul-level with those who behold their art. I say “can” because artists can also prostitute themselves into producing commodity art or soul-less trinkets, and audiences can settle for merely being entertained, for having their imaginations temporarily titillated, or for simply being lulled to sleep. Good art is that which is created, presented and received with integrity and results in both producer and consumer feeling more fully human, more fully alive.

There is a wonderful affirmation found in the Bible: “we are God’s workmanship.” The word used connotes ‘work of art,’ and it is the same word from which we get ‘poetry.’ I believe the challenge of being an artist (and of living a fully human life) lies not just in producing good art, but in doing soul work – in effect, making our entire life a work of art, worthy of the highest praise.

“Good art is that which is created, presented and received with integrity.”

Your Feedback Wanted

This article is a first draft. I encourage you to send me your comments and/or suggestions via e-mail. Are there parts you don’t understand? Ideas you disagree with? Points I’ve missed? Thoughts you’d like me to expand on? I’d love to hear all of them, and I’ll consider incorporating your ideas into future revisions. Thank you! – Jim Wolford-Ulrich


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