Mentors Must be Sought

by David A. Parker

I came to art somewhat late. As a third-year college student, I visited Isamu Noguchi’s Garden Museum in New York City and was deeply moved by the work in ways that were impossible to ignore. I had been brought up with the notion that making art or being an artist was not a viable way of life in today’s America. Worse, I knew no artists already practicing with whom I felt a close kinship or with whom I might study. So as I grew more and more compelled to consider art as a profession, I grew more and more anxious.

After stewing for a few years in this way, I saw a magazine article about a stone sculptor in his sixties named Yongjin Han. From the work and his no-BS attitude, it was immediately clear that he was the teacher I had been seeking. I picked up the phone and called 411 but he was unlisted. So I asked around and, within three degrees of separation, I had an introduction to him. I borrowed a car the following weekend and drove to meet him.

I asked him if he took students. “No,” he said, “teachers get in the way of artists’ natural development. For your own good, the most I can do is look at work and offer comment. But you can call me anytime.” Over the past nine years, we have remained very close.

Yongjin Han serves a particular kind of mentor role for me that I think may apply to the cases of many artists. Simply put, his life is the greatest lesson he can offer. At seventy, he has been creating work with integrity for five decades, and has never compromised on this point. He is able to live in reasonable comfort solely from his art. He is not chemically dependent. He had a strong marriage of forty years until his wife’s passing. For these reasons and more, when I need encouragement to believe that I can keep making art, I simply think of his example. He is living proof that a life in art is possible and, by just reflecting on that, I can continue. Art history offers legions of similarly inspirational figures. One of my favorites is Constantin Brancusi, who walked from his native Romania to Paris in order to live in the creative capital of the day. It took him two years to get there, during which time he built a violin from orange crates.

Especially for young artists, personal contact with a mentor can be irreplaceable. Often, all it takes is research and effort. I find that most artists welcome the interest of others, and can be remarkably generous with their time, resources and contacts. But for such a relationship to be possible, the younger artist has to take initiative by showing interest and reaching out. Chances are that the older artist went through the same thing.