Beethoven’s hair was crazy for a reason. I don’t think it had anything to do with styling, though. My own humble speculation is that it was not a conscious decision at all. Beethoven’s hair was messed up because he didn’t care that it was. It was messed up because he wanted to write music and because primping would eat up time he could better spend with quills and keys; therefore, the master’s external manifestation of artistic weirdness falls into a category I call “true bohemian weirdness.”

But this delightfully Romantic kind of weirdness must be coupled with prodigious mounds of artistic work in order to remain valid. Those who don’t meet “true bohemian weirdness” (TBW) standards are guilty of “broadcast weirdness” or BW — a manufactured weirdness consciously adopted to broadcast to the world that the person in question is “an artist” when, in fact, that person does not produce art in any regular fashion. Sound and fury, and all that.

We can evaluate ourselves by asking important questions about our external artsy-ness and, thereby, decide if we are the glorious followers of Beethoven, that patron saint of artistic eccentricity, or whether we are the socially needy posers who, daily, try to convince the world (or ourselves) that we are artists by smoke-screening through the ruse of image. (It sort of makes me think of kids who cheat for a test: If they put the effort into studying that they put into devising new ways to cheat . . .)

Scarves, for instance. Is it cold? If so, no problem. Practicality wins the day. If it is not cold, are you wearing your scarf to cover the claw marks from the other night when you couldn’t quite nail down a phrase in a recording studio and attacked yourself in a fit or artistic angst —  in an attempt to scratch out your traitorous larynx? If so, congratulations: TBW is yours to claim. Otherwise, your meteorologically paradoxical wardrobe choice can be seen as an empty attempt to show the world you are “artsy”. Knit scarves in mid July are a dead giveaway of some underhanded trick. The problem is, the world does not care if you are an artist unless you show it your art. (Alas, even then, it might not care. So it goes.)

Gentlemen, are you wearing thick, black eye-liner? Granted, this is a powerful image and it worked well for Robert Smith for many years, but he was adding an element of ominousness to his already created art. He was augmenting the public perception of The Cure’s music. And Alice Cooper acts a stage part that is an extension of his macabre creative vision. But even Alice cuts to the chase in his criticism of new bands trying to broadcast their image: “I get it, you’re angry. But where’s the song?” For Alice and Robert, TBW. For those without the portfolio to back it: empty cosmetics and; therefore, BW.  

No one is devoid of the desire to “seem,” as Hamlet puts it — not completely. I admit to owning a few sweaters that I think paint me as quite the pensive tunesmith; quite the fireside philosopher. But I produce stuff, relatively unknown though it may be. Do you? Because there is a free pass on all of this: making art.

We unknowns are cheated of the mystique famous artists are allowed to have, as I mentioned in my first piece on artistic weirdness, but I have it on good authority that you will be granted a pass by the Muses if you are a relentless creator of new work. Then, you can dye, twist, pierce, tattoo and dress any part of your body however you like and it all becomes an extension of your artistic expression instead of a superficial pose. Hell, you can have T-shirts printed that say: “I’m an artist! Please notice me.” So long as you really are.

I do see how some might argue that the body, itself, can be a canvas. I guess it can. If your appearance is your chosen medium, cool. I suppose one could also argue that all art is an extension of one’s personality, as fashion is. But maybe the vanity inherent in that idea sets me off against this kind of argument. Personal opinion: I’d rather hear what you have to say about people than what you have to say about you, in particular. Universality is a huge component of good art, I think. And, I must say, I love that most haute couture fashion designers take their bows in unadorned, black outfits after a show. I love the implication that their expression just took place on the runway: Don’t look at me — look at the craft and emotion I put into my designs.

But don’t lie, either to the world or yourself, for Ludwig’s sake. Be weird on your own time if you just want to play a role. Beethoven wrote music when he was deaf. A guy like that doesn’t spend time on his hairdo. So, if he created despite a handicap, don’t insult him by inducing blindness in yourself and in everyone else if you are not the real deal; if you don’t crank out the product. Dress like a technicolor zombie for fun on Halloween, if you want, but don’t expect treats the rest of the year for dressing up like a real artist and skipping the creativity part. 

Chris Matarazzo’s ARTISTIC UNKNOWNS appears every Tuesday

• Author Bio
• Latest Posts

Chris Matarazzo

Chris Matarazzo is a writer, composer, musician and teacher of literature and writing on the college and high school levels. His music can be heard on his recent release, Hats and Rabbits, which is currently available. Chris is also the composer of the score to the off-beat independent film Surrender Dorothy and he performs in the Philadelphia area with the King Richard Band. He's also a relatively prolific novelist, even if no one seems to care yet. His blog, also called Hats and Rabbits, is nice, too, if you get a chance...

Latest posts by Chris Matarazzo (Posts)

• Book Review: An Encyclopedia of Tolkien - October 14, 2019
• The Emperor decrees an end to positive comments about “selfies” - June 16, 2015
• The Emperor decrees that graduation clichés will cease - June 9, 2015
• The Emperor decrees that all official documents will be printed in Comic Sans - March 24, 2015
• The Emperor decrees that the letter “E” shall no longer be spoken as an “A” - February 10, 2015

Tags: artistic unknowns by Chris Matarazzo // 4 Comments »