A Gulf Coast organization invited arts writers to submit something related to critical writing/publishing at this time of paperless reading; the announcement was clear in its intention to encourage young writers. I sent an article I'd written way back in the 20th century for The Bridge Quarterly, an actual arts newspaper, meaning it but also meaning it as a joke --- my being anything but young --- but as a serious and meaningful joke, especially since the juror had been the editor of a respected Houston magazine I'd contributed to for years "way back when." Need I say it wasn't accepted? But its lessons still make sense to me, and I share them with you below.
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Some people are outstanding in their field. I sit. 

​SAID AND DONE

 It’s hard to believe, but there was a time, even in a place like El Paso, Texas, a city not thought of as a major art center, when its art museum held shows unparalleled anywhere: a solo work by sculptor James Surls, for instance, back in the previous century, had hundreds of us shaking out heads in mute wonder. Galleries for profit and spaces not for profit were everywhere. Local artists showed their work in town, but were also represented in Santa Fe and Houston, and it wasn't impossible to exhibit coast to coast, border to border.
 
And, too, there were newspaper art columns for two, count them, daily papers, and I was a critic for nearly twenty years, writing weekly for a thirty dollar paycheck. In regional columns featured by national magazines (that all local artists had spread out on coffee tables, proving their seriousness), I was responsible for covering "the borderland”; El Paso, Juarez, and Las Cruces art shows were critically described in glossy magazines published in Los Angeles, Santa Fe, New York, Houston, and Albuquerque. Then came a book I finally published --- another story in itself, my 15 minutes of fame --- with reviews and a complimentary handwritten letter from Calvin Tompkins on New Yorker stationary, and another typed one with a wee scribbled note under the blue signature of John Updike. Heady days, for sure.
 
So now, from a distance, after four decades of talking about art, teaching it and about it, let me  list some important lessons learned:
 
You (only) know what you know.
 
We must define our terms (Art, Truth, etc.).
           
Your personal preferences don’t matter to art; it isn’t about you.
 
Looking at a reproduction isn’t the same as looking at art.
 
Size sometimes matters.
 
The date is probably the most important thing.
 
The function(s) of art change.
 
Art --- the important stuff of High Art or Fine Art, the stuff of museums and art history books --- relates to the time and place it was made, reflecting the culture or, often and increasingly, taking a critical relationship to the culture.
 
Information and knowledge can be lost.
 
Talent is the baseline and is NOT the same as creativity. Same with skill.
 
Creative geniuses are different from the rest of us.
 
Creativity is available to everyone but must be practiced.
 
If you are not increasing your creative/critical skills, you are diminishing them.
 
Solitude and attention are absolute requirements for creativity.
 
One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned, as an artist and a critic and a teacher, is that you can’t force people to accept the gifts you offer them. But one keeps giving. Here are a few of my offerings, in the form of advice:
 
            Unplug.
 
            Be quiet.
 
            Look.
 
            Listen.
 
            Question.
 
            Appreciate.
 
            Share.