“I mean, of course it’s good. What’s it gonna do, suck? Was that even really possible?
I don’t know that the plot and characters were perfect for me. On the other hand, I think a big part of this story is the messiness and sloppy nature of life, and the way that time goes by and makes us even less perfect than we already are.
It’s also, on a more subtle level, about the struggle of creating memorable art versus living a good life. You’d think those things would go hand-in-hand, but a lot of times you have three factors at work.
#1 You have to live. By which I mean, you have to do things like work and buy food and make that food and then eat that food. This slides into things that are beyond biological imperatives too. I put working in this category. You might feel the need to dress a certain way, which takes a certain amount of your time and money away from doing other things. That’s cool, but I’m putting this in category #1. Basically, category #1 is everything from your basic human needs up to the things that are less basic human needs but still necessary to living a life of sorts.
#2 You have to make the art. This part is cool. It’s fulfilling. But on the other hand, while making art is really, really fulfilling, while finishing projects is great, it’s not restful. It’s not something you can do all the time when you’re not doing the stuff in #1.
#3 You have to do things you actually enjoy. I mean that stuff that everyone says you’ll regret on your deathbed. Which I begin to doubt more and more as I age. I’ve been thinking about this a lot in the context of video games. I’ve been working on a video game writing project with my brother, so this stuff has been on my mind. And I’ve been thinking how maybe when I’m on my deathbed, I’ll be thinking that I wasted my life finishing the Perfect Run on Super Mario Galaxy 2. Maybe. Maybe I’ll regret it. Although I kind of don’t think so. I kind of think that I got joy out of it, and even though it’s kind of fleeting, I don’t think that necessarily means it’s not worthwhile.
You’ve got these three things pulling you all over, and that’s the main struggle in The Sculptor, as I read it, and it expresses the way an artist might feel while trying to do #2, while trying to make #2 into a full-time thing.
I regret numbering these now. “…the way an artist might feel while trying to do #2”? Scatological, for sure.
Anyway, here’s what I like about The Sculptor.
#’s 2 and 3 are the main conflicts, but #1 isn’t thrown out all the way. I liked how, in the story, even with the character’s impending death (not a spoiler, don’t worry, this is the point of the story, and you read to see how it’s resolved) money is still a thing. It’s still real. You still need a place to live, and you need enough macaroni&cheese to stay alive.
I also think the juxtaposition of #2 and #3 really spoke to me. It felt really good to read something like this, to see that someone like Scott McCloud maybe feels this way too, feels that his art is fulfilling and wonderful, and that sometimes he wants to be happy. Sometimes the art gets in the way of being happy.
I think most great artists are unlikely to regret a life devoted to art. But it makes me wonder. It makes me think about the things a person gives up.
I’m 31. I thought I was 30, but it turns out I’m 31. I almost corrected someone at the doctor’s office, but I kept my mouth shut and did the math instead. And wouldn’t you know, I lost a whole year right there while I waited for some doctor to come in and palpate my testicles.
I’m 31, and I’ve thought a lot about having children. For a long time, it was a No. Now Way, even. Because I didn’t really like them. And I didn’t think I would enjoy turning over the time I have to raising a child.
This isn’t a screed against having kids or parents, by the way. I recognize this as a very personal choice, and nobody needs to justify their decision. Well, okay. Maybe that 19 kids and counting thing. They maybe could do a little justifying.
Anyway, kids didn’t seem to be something I wanted in my life.
And now, now it seems even less likely.
Right now I spend days at work, and I spend nights working on writing and other creative projects. I’ll call it “art” because it’s a 3-letter word and easier to say, but just know that I don’t consider the A-word to be a way of saying what I’m doing is great and important.
I spend most of the time I’m not at work still working on other projects. To the point that I don’t really cook anymore. I make the same two or three dishes I can freeze and take to work because I don’t want to take the time away from art. I hate cleaning my apartment because it takes time away from art. I haven’t slept 8 hours every night for a week in…maybe since college. There’s not a lot I do anymore outside of work and art.
It’s made me a lousy boyfriend. Now and in the past. Especially in the past. At times it’s made me a bad son. And brother. At times it’s made me a bad employee. It’s made me an absentee friend. All these things I want to do, all of those choices has made me into a kind of a shitty person from time to time.
What’s weird, the more I think about it, the more I think there’s no room for a child in my life. Because right now, right now I feel like I’m doing #1 at a minimum level, #2 enough but not as much as I’d like, and #3 for a couple hours, maybe, one day a week.
Because then, I have to assume that you have #1, #2, and #3, and it’s not like you add #4. You add an entire new #’s 1-3. Your child’s 1-3, that’s on you now.
I’m hoping someday to get to a place where there’s a better balance between #1 and #2. Where #2 becomes more a part of #1, where the art maybe provides just a smidge of what I need to get by. I’m hoping to get that balance to then get more of #3 back in my life. To go to the movies or go on a date, or learn a 4th fucking recipe for god’s sakes.
It’s a really scary thing. To think about this big part of life, and to be making a conscious decision to opt out. I think that’s a really weird, really hard thing. But right now, it’s how I feel.
This is probably the part where I should really tentatively try and wrap the review back to The Sculptor. It’s going to seem tentative if you haven’t read the book. But if you do, I think you’ll understand more of what I’m saying, or really, you’ll understand why I’m saying it.
The Sculptor’s message, that we have a really limited time to do an unlimited number of things, it’s not super new. But I think it talks about it in a new way, and it came at a good time for me.
“