Insomniactive Productions, 1630 Cullom Street #2, Birmingham, AL, 35205
On EBay, a copy of the recent Marvel charity book HEROES is on sale for as high as $20, a 500% markup over the cover price. Proceeds from the original sales (retail, that is) went to benefit victims of the September 11 terrorist attacks in New York City; the auction profits are guaranteed only to the seller.
Robert Fripp, guitarist and de facto head of the progressive rock group King Crimson, regularly requests that attendees of the group's shows not photograph or audio-record the performances, citing (among other reasons) band distraction. Regularly, though, bootlegged CDs are available of the most recent tour, and amateur photographers can be spotted throughout the crowds.
There is a relationship that is implied in every form of art, a connection between the creator and the audience. The creator's role in this has obvious components: to communicate and express ideas and emotions in the given medium, be it print (writers & visual artists), motion pictures (filmmakers & actors) or digital audio (musicians). The audience, too, has its place in the blueprint: to receive the message and enjoy (or not). But both sides have other, less obvious responsibilities and obligations to each other.
Unfortunately, this relationship goes largely unexplored, as though the work is bought and sold in a vacuum. It's as though the fans imagine that it's nothing to crank out a CD or a painting or a comic book, as though these things are done as an afterthought by the artists. Similarly, the artists are apt to make grand proclamations about the fans meaning everything, that without them there would be no art, but rarely is this heartfelt; instead, it seems to be a tool of self-promotion, intuitive PR work.
This lack of exploration is unfortunate because the ignorance of the two-way relationship (and the duties that come with it) can and routinely does cause misunderstandings, bitterness, and entertaining-bordering-on-brutal stories of brushes with fame. For all the stories you might hear of Steve Ditko chasing down a fan with a camera at a party, or of Harlan Ellison's apparent brutality at a signing, a deeper look at the link between fans and creators shows that it's a lot closer to human nature than fandom.
GOD'S RESPONSIBILITY
I'm not a professional creator any more than Danielle Steele is a relationship expert. I have had my share of experience, though, and it is on this that I base the following. There are a few caveats, though. First, the greater the level of success one has as a creator, the more and less some of these expectations apply (I shouldn't have to note that the application also varies depending on the individual). Second, to the aspiring artists: these aren't rules that will guarantee or condemn your chances of success, but rather guidelines of politeness; sort of an Artists' Mr. Manners. Third, these can be viewed one of two ways: as a guideline for creators, as well as an Audience Manifesto of Rights, so to speak.
(Before anyone clamors too much, fret not: the Creator's Manifesto of Rights is coming next week.)
The creator's main task is -- ta da! -- creation. The obvious tenets of the unspoken agreement with the audience include quality product and timeliness. By 'quality,' I'm not referring to every piece being a masterpiece, but instead giving each piece an honest amount of effort, rather than profiting off of name value by churning out sludge. By timeliness, I intend nothing more than meeting deadlines and release dates that are promised, not those that fans demand or invent.
But there's more, of course. While on the surface, it seems that the transaction ends there, but that's unfair to the audience. Not to say that the audience should dictate the nature of the link (again, next week), but there's more here than a simple economic buy/sell connection.
For instance, the audience has the right to dislike the work. In fact, the audience has the right to proclaim its opinions from every street corner and mountain top in hearing range, no matter how brutal those opinions may be. They don't even have to be nice about it. This voicing doesn't, however, let the artist off of any hook; just because the vocal critics got louder, don't think that justifies a sloppy, haphazard follow up work, just to prove them right. That's unfair to the silent fan who enjoyed the work and expects future efforts to display a similar, full-bodied effort. To turn the table on the artists who always cry for free expression: if you don't like what you're hearing, stop listening.
The audience has the right to answer honestly, as well. This should go without saying, but the creator who asks what his audience thinks of his or her work -- whether it be a new song, a new book, or a new clay pot -- he'd better be ready to hear a painful truth. More importantly, he has no right to run screaming after the newfound critic; if he didn't want to hear the answer, he should have asked the question of his local Congressman.
One of the biggest things that gets overlooked is the fan's right to decent treatment by the creator, in a person-to-person environment. Fans shouldn't take this as a call to harass your favorite celebrity in the mall or at Disney World -- unless you approach everyone you see and ask for autographs or tell them how great a job they do, you shouldn't do the same to artists. You should, however, expect to be treated with respect and decency at places like signings, conventions, and the like, assuming you don't so anything to warrant otherwise.
I realize that this is largely addressing artists as a whole, while (especially on this issue) it boils down to a level of personality. There are some comic creators like Erik Larsen, Mark Waid, and the entire Red Star team that are ridiculously friendly (at least in my experience), even outside of the convention grounds. There are others (who shall remain nameless, mostly because I have developed an allergy to lawsuits) who are downright unpleasant, probably no more so at conventions than at their homes. However, if you attend a convention as a guest, you should expect to be greeted by fans, and you should show them the same respect they show you. If you play a concert and then hang around at the bar afterwards, be ready for the crowd to stop by and chat, and show them the same respect they showed you. You don't have to answer questions about trade secrets, or create individual sketches for every person that approaches, but live up to expectations that you have applied to yourself.
At the end of the day, the fans can be a pain in the ass. As a local musician, writer, and sometime designer, I can attest to the nightmare of dealing with overzealous fans at bars, or answering some less-than-normal emails that broach less-than-appropriate topics. It's not difficult to imagine what world famous pros have to deal with. Artists don't owe their lives to the fans, nor do they need to sacrifice their dignity; in fact, they shouldn't be expect to make any sacrifices other than those that any person makes. While there would likely continue to be a massive amount of art without a fan base, it would likely be supported by a 50-hour a week desk job working in a three piece suit; the least the creator can do to thank his audience for their support is to treat them like human beings.
Not that they always act like humans. I'll address those people next week.