Chihuly Lilies photo by Thomas N Texas

One glorious summery November day in 2014, I went to see the Dale Chihuly glass sculpture installation at the Denver Botanical Gardens. It was a gorgeous show.

After a brief stroll through the garden, I sat on a bench across from a cluster of white lily sculptures under a waterfall. A woman sat down next to me and after a few moments gazing at the sculptures, turned to me and said, “What talent!”

I felt the heat of anger hit the back of my throat, but appreciating her pleasure and our shared enjoyment of the beautiful sight, I smiled and nodded.

She left and my inner rant started. “Lady, talent is the last thing I think when I see this sculpture. In fact, I do not think ‘talent’ at all. What I think is: courage, persistence, faith, brutally early mornings & weary late nights, surviving a million bouts of anxiety and self-doubt; peanut butter sandwiches for dinner while the submissions were rejected and the pantry was bare. I see a remarkable man who has survived this and more.”

What I heard her say behind her words is “I am not an artist and have no clue what it takes.”

I’ll nod to that.

I suspect certain people who are veteran spectators believe in a mysterious force called “talent.” A kind of supernatural power each successful artist possesses. A magical talisman that protects and propels of its own accord.

Don’t feel able to put your work out in the world? Bogged down by a merciless sense of vulnerability? No problem, Talent will do it for you. As if it shields the artist from the innumerable painful, chaotic forces most artists regularly confront.

It doesn’t.

I am not even sure what “talent” is, but if it exists as some kind of singular identifiable trait, it does not have supernatural powers. Every artist must deal with the forces of doubt and fear and for that, they deserve praise. Praise from the bench and praise from the heavens.