Meditation: On Artistic Integrity

The idea (and pursuit) of integrity is something that gets me up in the morning but keeps me up at night. Art must be an authentic, true expression. The artist must commit to sharing the way they see the world as honestly, unapologetically and specifically as they can and, in doing so, find the universality that permeates all individual experience.

The majority of art that reaches the masses is the pageant queen equivalent of the original work - complete with hopes of world peace.

Every now and then a piece of art sparks a long fuse and it burns through society before a spectacular explosion of new artistic form and expression. Sometimes a piece is heralded as being "bold", "innovative" or "unflinching" and we second-guess our initial feelings; blindly following the auteurs of the time as they convince us that the dislike we have is only because our tiny little minds simply cannot comprehend such a level of artistry and that we should trust their judgement and rave about the piece to everyone else until we understand it ourselves.

The journey that an artist and their work takes from the original conception - the visitation of their muse - to the moment of presentation - the visitation of their audience - is a long and winding road resplendent with obstacles and pitfalls. At every turn there is an agent of change trying to mould the work into something more profitable or more palatable.

This morning, my son demonstrated a surprising level of musicality and - almost before he had finished - my mind was filled with visions of how this apparent artistic gift could be his key to financial success and world-wide renown. I realise that artistic skill in a capitalist society - especially for a person from a working class background - can be more of a curse than a gift.

I found myself hoping that, if my son enjoys music, he will protect it and keep it from the wider world. In my years as an actor, I loved developing the play in rehearsal but always came away from the performances unfulfilled. Preparing for television roles and crafting the performance in front of camera was thrilling but whenever something aired I would feel a strange dread. Perhaps, if I hadn't tied my talents to my ambitions, I would have been able to truly love and enjoy it instead of pimping it out and corrupting it. Fame and fortune in return for my artistic talent (and, occasionally, integrity) seemed like a fair toll for crossing out of my existing life and into the one I thought I wanted.

In the end, artistic integrity was too great a fee to stay in the game and I realised that, in order to preserve it, I must focus on storytelling through a medium in which I can exercise more control (although let's see how that goes once agents and publishers get involved!).

Unfortunately, my integrity has gotten the better of me here and I cannot arrive at a solid conclusion in this meditation because, honestly, I still don't know what I believe about it.

Given the unlimited and easy nature in which artists can share their work today, does the concept of integrity need to change? The work must always be uninhibited and true but does it need to be responsible? Morality and art have always been at odds but should we, in this age of social sensitivity, be considering the ethical implications of art?