(A little rant) What about daily art?

What about daily art?

The music we sing to ourselves. The songs we could sing at our gatherings. The artworks we could make to mark transitions and stages in our own lives and those around us? What of the weaving of cloth, the designing of clothes, the making of our own furniture, the amusing of our children, the brightening of our surrounds? What about the expression of our own emotions and the celebration of our own delight?

Where is the daily art that is intrinsically connected to living? The daily expression and celebration that belongs to us all and is the birthright of humanity? Wait about our hands’ right to making and joy?

Have we been relegated to consumers only?
Has art been stolen away and put in glass cases only?
Are we only allowed to make art if we brand ourselves as artists and stand in the camp of an artist movement?
Must we pledge allegiance to a discipline, to a teacher, to a movement, to a theory?
Do we believe that only culture teaches us art, that we must be filled like obedient children with knowledge and technique ready to regurgitate it?
Why can’t we all make art, delight in art, celebrate with art as our voice?
Why can’t art be part of everyday not just for special times?

Why can’t we trust our own voices rather than wait to sing on a stage and be judged before we dare to sing?
Why can’t we sing for joy and the joy of those around us rather than being selected to be the special ones that sing for many?
Why can’t we all claim art?
Why can’t art be like eating or shitting or brushing our teeth? Something we all do and don’t have to make a full time career from? Something we don’t need to be selected as special to do? Something that we don’t wait around for others to deem us worthy enough to do it? How can we make art making and appreciating an integrated and part of the daily movement and rhythm of life? A basic function that keeps us healthy and sane and free of excrement?

How can art making become like speaking – something we do, we just do, to be heard, to hear ourselves to communicate. Whether we lisp or orate, whether we have one person who listens or thousands, whether we do it for the cat or to ourselves in the car – we can all speak, we all speak, we use words to help get the feelings out and chrystalize our thoughts and we don’t expect a medal or permission to do it. Why can’t singing, making music, making art be the same?

I do it. I do it for me. I do it for life. I do it for freedom, I do it for honesty, I do it for relief, I do it to find companionship. I do it for humour, I do it for beauty, I do it for anger, I do it to honour sadness. I do it because it comes from me and falls from my hands like leaves fall from an Autumn tree. I do it to be alive and connected to life and sometimes to be distanced from life far enough that I can see it more clearly.