An artist is a person engaged in one or more of any of a broad spectrum of activities related to creating art, practicing the arts, and or demonstrating an art. It implies a mastery of any sort of craft. It is interesting to realize that in the understanding of an artist and artistry, comes the influence of culture; societies’ take on what “is” and what “isn’t”.
There are so many definitions of an artist; you do not even need a dictionary. I am sure even before you read this; you had your own take on the matter. So, before I try to get into your head and define who I think an artist is or could be, let me let you think about it just once more.
This is what I think.
As a child born and raised in Uganda, whenever someone said “artist” my mind went straight to the painters and anyone who messed around with colors. My infant mind suggested a connection of art with colors; and colors with painters and their kin. I guess it is the whole kid gig of drawing paper and the Crayola pencils for every class in school.
In my continued growth, every newspaper article featured a musician as an “artist”, the unfailing identity markers being the dreads, chains, shades and raspy voice memo; so, that with everyone I passed in town that fit that description, I would be pointing with child-like wonder saying, “Look mum and dad, an artist.”
My personal interaction with the essence of art and artistry, was never drastically identifiable until I reached that teenage phase of self-discovery and contemporaneous self-loathing- the “who am I?” stage defined by angst and confusion.
It was that stage of wanting to be something sophisticated but failing miserably at it. It was that both necessary and dreadful stage where you wear the braces (because your permanent canines decided to grow too far up your gum), and blue eye shadow (because you saw a random music video) and listen to all the rock music (because all the cool chics listened to rock in the movies); all in all, because your hormones are telling you “weird” is the superlative expression of “arrival.” What you don’t know yet is that you are just trying to express the perspective and inherent opinion on life, etched deep inside you externally, and in a way people can both identify and appreciate.
With more time, I realized why what I always came up with seemed to be most appropriately termed as weird. The thing is I was doing both; wanting to be like the other blue eyeshadowed chics, without realizing I was more of the black eyeliner-cat eye women. I got so confused in wanting to be like others, while I was also myself.
In the end, it really got old for me; being bad at being both I mean. I couldn’t be the best “them” and I just hated what “me” had to offer. What if I wanted to be me and be like the “other cooler” person simultaneously? It got so senile being the same mediocre you hated, but the same one everyone else didn’t mind you being. I knew what got really different and sophisticated is excellence though. But what good was it when I couldn’t attain it in this sense? I had to learn to accept myself, because that’s the only person I was ever going to be. I had to accept my art form along with the rest of the package. I needed to be “excellent” but eventually I realized this with the passing of even more time; the point is in the steady progress towards truth telling instead. It might not be “excellent” to others, for that is subjective, but because it is true and real and sincere from inside of you, it will be excellent to you and for you.
What I mean is, while Paganini could arguably be the best violinist that ever lived, in reality there can always be someone greater. In the end, while Paganini is/ could be considered the most excellent violinist, because of the probability, that he might not be, he suddenly isn’t. By what criteria could he measure his excellence? How was he to know that someone greater existed before him, or one greater would exist after he did? What if Paganini lived the rest of his life in anxiety because he wasn’t sure he was the best, or would be the best forever? If this was what occupied his mind, then it probably sucked. But I like to believe he was the best because in his art, he told the truth that was in his heart. That’s why he played the way he played. The audiences were just an external witness to this.
Life gives us inspiration to be artists; to make art, and we all go through life. Therefore, to an extent we are all artists. Pain, joy, love, sorrow all inspire us to sing their songs that prove and re-echo the truth of their existences and ours, as we feel them in us. As humans, to their songs we add our perspectives about them and our longings concerning them. I don’t think there is a man alive that is not an artist is some sense. Life would have seen to that.
Life and living to me, is the artistic expression of humanity, on a much broader spectrum. In some way, everyone expresses their lives and thoughts on living in some way. Yes, I am saying that the definition of “an artist” is as broad as this and not to water down its essence, but to prove its beauty in the undeniable cognizance of its diversity. That person with a contemplative Facebook post about something they are going through is an artist, as well as that other person that takes a picture of the sunset and posts it on Instagram. We just give the title “artist” to those who do this more consistently, or would like themselves identified by this title, or are more articulate in the expression of their opinion, whatever form. We are all artists and I guess all art should be valid. My criteria however, question the basis of any art’s cognitive and emotive influence on me; does it inspire me to be better or do better? Because with all that’s going on in this world, this is all every man needs- the encouragement to be and do better.
Summarily, what I’m trying to do is explain the idea that for a person like me, songwriting can be something someone does in Uganda, as an artist from Uganda. I figured that with the arrangement of my circumstances, instead of trying too hard and enduring considerable difficulty in changing them by wanting to be like others that had their own part to play, I should embrace the forms of my art in the parts that they could also play in this country. I might as well accept the arrangement as is, and simply go with it.
This is because I have struggled with how particularly to be an artist; let alone what it means and I know so many people do. You are a spoken word artist, painter, instrumentalist, playwright or whatever; Do you throw a concert then? Do you quit school then? Are you an artist alone?? Or are there other parts of you and your life that inform and support this one? All these questions and so many more have been dwelling in my mind as well, and I know I am not alone.
A Ugandan artist is a platform that simply helps me understand these things to begin with; I am a Ugandan and I am an artist. The implications of these facts is then, the journey. AUgandanartist as a platform, is therefore one of the many vehicles that will be used in this journey.
Being a young adult aged Ugandan, from my type of background, means a lot of things. For the most part I speak more English than any of my local languages. I most likely live in Kampala. I most likely have 80% of the music I listen to from other countries that are not Uganda and half of that, probably not on the African continent either. I am most likely driving my own car by now or I use boda bodas a lot. I keep up with all that is deemed trending and are also therefore a social media person; Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Snap chat. Those are some of the many generalities that exist for a person like myself in 2017 Uganda.
More specifically however, my formative years were spent in another country that spoke English and glorified Western culture because it is a western country. I was introduced to the spice girls, Celine Dion and Disney for musical influence before I was ten. When I came back to Uganda, the only way to keep in touch with this musical influence that had begun its work, was with all the CDs that we had come back with and Disney tapes that we borrowed every week from the video library in Ntinda. Eventually, that broadened into Hollywood and the influencing continued through High School Musical, Camp Rock and so on.
Nothing I appreciated by influence and exposure was at work in my local music industry and I despised it desperately because it wasn’t as “sophisticated” or was “over simplistic”. By the time I was a teenager, the internet had saved our lives and I could keep in sync with the flow of things I had become accustomed to. It was all “white/ Western” music. That’s all I knew and appreciated. I was into music like that.
By the time I could play instruments and write my own songs, all that could come forth was the “western”. I struggled with that and was confused by the fact that a Ugandan like me was writing music so Taylor -Swift- like. As time went on, I wanted to share this music and I didn’t even know how to begin. There were bands like HOP, that had paved the way by example by singing and writing songs that were typically of a western sound, but were well received by Ugandans. So, I decided I would try it out. I wasn’t a performer. I had an average singing voice and average piano and guitar skills. But by that time my writing was a tad bit above average.
I couldn’t be songwriter though. I didn’t even know if we had songwriters in Uganda and the ones I eventually found out about wrote differently from what I did. The only way I was going to be able to share my art was by becoming an “artist”. Yes, I was going to record a song and take it to all the radio stations, create some buzz about it and then make a video that would even create more buzz and then I would be propelled into my career as an artist. I would eventually have enough money to stage a concert at Serena and start at weekly gig at a spot in town. That’s what everyone did right? And it seemed to be working for them, why not me?
Somehow, with the growth of my perspective I realized that what I appreciated about art and music in particular as a form of art wasn’t going to be showcased in that route, to begin with at least. When I sung, I didn’t really want people to be jumping up and down and cheering, I wanted them to be listening or singing along. When people talked about my music, I hoped that it would less about me and more about how the message has shaped their lives and encouraged them. I didn’t want to be seen or deemed a celebrity, I wanted to be related to as a person. The money then only became as important as it was to the extent it helped me make the art. I realized these things about myself. I realized that if I became an artist the way most people did, I would only get to that apex by singing what everyone else wanted to hear. I believed art was the expression of what I wanted you to hear. Then I realized I couldn’t be an “artist” like the artists were in Uganda. I had to be me- my own kind of artist.
So, I went to law school for the most part of the past 4 years and that course opened my mind even more. All I could do in this time was write. I bought notebooks to write thoughts; even my journal wasn’t enough anymore, and when the writing alone wasn’t enough, I put some melody to the words. That’s all I’ve done for the past 4 years and it’s what I am known to do. With time so many opportunities opened for me to do more of songwriting for other people and I found so much contentment in that. Even in that I was an artist, expressing my thoughts and creating my art. I was an artist even as a songwriter. So, I decided to go with it.
It begun with the words and then the words met the melody. This is the story that augandanartist must tell.
You are an artist because you express yourself in an artistic form. That is the only criteria posed to determine that part of your identity. It needn’t be whether you have staged a concert before, or whether you appear in the newspapers every day or whether you have even recorded a song. You are an artist if you produce art.
I realized that and found such freedom to begin sharing my art. I didn’t have to wait to signed or managed or anything. I just got to working with what I had which for the most part constitutes a Samsung Phone for an audio and video recorder, online platforms for an audience and random guitars with horrible action. What I preferred to sing were my favorite songs. I don’t have to do covers of songs just because everybody knows them, but maybe because I just want to share a message that resonates so loudly in my heart I need to sing it, and you to hear it. I just needed to begin where I was, with time I would be somewhere else.
And that’s what augandanartist is all about; accepting “you” as the artist you are for you, so that your art is unhindered. Just go on and share it. Share it to inspire yourself alone. Share it to inspire people. Share it to ask questions and give the answers to questions life asks every day.
To be at peace one must be who they are.
I am a Ugandan and I am an artist.
augandanartist.com 