Artists, Craftspeople, and the Mysterious Gulf Between

      Not too long ago, some friends and I had an extended discussion about art and craft and exactly where the distinction between the two lies. Is it possible through instruction and practice to "uplift" a talented craftsman to artistry? Are artists simply born that way, inherently different than those of us who might be very good at something, but never great? Obviously we didn't settle the issue in one evening, but I was reminded of our discussion last night, when a different pair of friends invited us to a night at the NC Symphony featuring Neil Sedaka.
      Neil Sedaka is not someone that I ever would have sought out on my own--his biggest hits came before I was born or in my early childhood--and I might even have been tempted to scoff at his particular brand of schmaltzy, Vegas entertainment. But what was made perfectly clear by Sedaka's performance last night was that, even if your taste in music does not normally embrace his bubble-gum pop aesthetic, you'd have to be either dishonest or stupid not to recognize that when it comes to pop music, he's an artist.
      As he belted out hit after hit in his familiar and still surprisingly-strong high tenor, I could feel the joy of recognition rising in the people around me. The Billboard Top 100 doesn't define artistry, nor does mere popularity of any kind, but sometimes it at least recognizes artistry. When you've created a parade of songs that will make any random room full of people of a certain age smile and nod and sing along--"Oh Carol," "Where the Boys Are," "Calendar Girl," "Solitaire," "Breaking Up is Hard to Do," "Laughter in the Rain," "Love Will Keep Us Together"--then you're an artist.
      I still don't know why. But you are.