
Share HN: Rilke on how to be an artist (1903) - gruseom
&quot;Let me ask you right here to read as little as possible of aesthetic
critiques. They are either prejudiced views that have become petrified
and senseless in their hardened lifeless state, or they are clever
word games. Their views gain approval today but not tomorrow. Works of
art can be described as having an essence of eternal solitude and an
understanding is attainable least of all by critique. Only love can
grasp and hold them and can judge them fairly.<p>When considering analysis, discussion, or presentation, listen to your
inner self and your feelings every time. Should you be mistaken, after
all, the natural growth of your inner life will guide you slowly and
in good time to other conclusions. Allow your judgements their own
quiet, undisturbed development, which, as with all progress, must come
from deep within and can in no way be forced or hastened. All things
consist of carrying to term and then giving birth. To allow the
completion of every impression, every germ of a feeling deep within,
in darkness, beyond words, in the realm of instinct unattainable by
logic, to await humbly and patiently the hour of the descent of a new
clarity: that alone is to live one&#x27;s art, in the realm of understanding
as in that of creativity.<p>In this there is no measuring with time. A year doesn&#x27;t matter; ten
years are nothing. To be an artist means not to compute or count; it
means to ripen as the tree, which does not force its sap, but stands
unshaken in the storms of spring with no fear that summer might not
follow. It will come regardless. But it comes only to those who live
as though eternity stretches before them, carefree, silent, and
endless. I learn it daily, learn it with many pains, for which I am
grateful. Patience is all.&quot;<p><i>Letters to a Young Poet</i>, 23 April 1903
======
contingencies
They asked: “are you an artist?”

The question quite sublime.

For truth be told, in recent months,

It’s not the first of times.

The first was in Los Angeles

A pre-opening event

He who questioned me sure was,

Thus knew quite what it meant.

So thrown aback I did reply

With an honest heartfelt question

“Why life is art, isn’t it?”

A smile, then nought was mentioned.

And come again, the question did,

Before I left that nation.

But identify I have not yet:

In ambiguity lies elation.

Then half a world away today

In leftist lands anew

An art college in Kerala

Invited, I took my cue.

Walking about I could not see

The show that was promoted

Behind door one a library

The second looked quite _verboten_.

Some students came and talked to me

While each of us did smoke

My country declared, they then decided

To get to know this bloke...

They asked: “are you an artist?”

The question quite sublime.

For truth be told, in recent months,

It’s not the first of times.

 _Are you an Artist?_ (June 2011)
[http://stani.sh/poem4.pdf](http://stani.sh/poem4.pdf)

