I am often told that I am talented. I am aware that this is meant as a compliment, but I struggle with the concept of compliments. I am aware that the 'normal' response to a compliment (apart from acknowledgement and reciprocation) is to 'feel good about oneself.' I understand that this is the main purpose of a compliment.
In people such as myself, this part of the response is not automatic, and is often absent. I have been known to wax lyrical about how uneasy compliments, in fact, make me feel... I know I have described them as being almost like physical blows, when I am feeling particularly vulnerable. I think this is easy to see why, when you consider that, without the good feeling, a compliment can appear to be a simple demand for acknowledgement and reciprocation.
"What? How cynical!" I hear you cry. But I assure you, it is not cynicism that negates the positive effect of compliments. It is merely an effect of applying logic ahead of emotion. Let me explain: To say I am talented, is no different (in my world) to telling me that I am above average in some way, at painting, singing, writing. I know I can paint - I have spent more time than is usual in practising painting techniques and have become quite proficient in certain aspects. My immediate response to what is clearly a compliment, is one of confusion. And herein lies the difficulty. I will try to break down my thought process to make the outcome clearer: The Compliment:
"You are very talented" (Looking appraislngly at one of my paintings)
I am aware that stating something graciously, like "How nice of you to say!" whilst smiling appreciatively, would be ideal, but this is a false response which is dishonest, and cannot be entertained. The true response is more along the lines:
Oh God! A vague, subjective compliment! Right! Don't panic! What does talented mean? Special? Better? Clever? Blessed? Gifted? Lucky? Well, I'm none of those... I just work hard. There are many more able and innovative artists than me, so she's clearly mistaken. Hang on, perhaps she's more qualified to tell the difference than I am... I wonder what her credentials are? I would ask, but that might sound rude. No, I don't recognise her - I assume she's just 'being nice'. Is there a hidden agenda here? Right - that means I should say something nice back, and perhaps explain. "Thanks, but I'm not really - It's just something I do to stop feeling overwhelmed or bored." Hmmm. That didn't seem to be very well received... Smile your stiff, fraudulent smile and move away.
In my experience, baseless compliments are not the inert selfless gift that they are considered by most. In my experience they are potentially dangerous ordnance, that should only be handled by qualified experts. If they do find their way into the hands of rank amateurs such as myself, they need to be accompanied by detailed instructions for their safe disposal or deployment.
This may seem a little extreme, but please do not assume I do not appreciate compliments. They just need to be reasonably well infomed and specific. I will find it much easier to engage with a compliment if it offers some new perspective for me to consider, new data to assess. Compliments I have heard, and preferred include: "I have seen lots of this type of thing, but none of them quite capture the urban setting as well...", I could walk into your skies" and, (my personal favourite) "I like the dirt and the lamp-posts".
(I can engage with the the first, by asking what other similar pictures they have seen and how they differ; the second, by investigating the reason for this: The geometry? The light? The colour? The third is a statement I cannot argue with - it is a simply stated observation and preference pertaining to an aspect of the painting I had actually planned.)
Of course when they become more thoughtful and specific, they are no longer mere compliments - they have become meaningful acknowledgement, considered observation and heartfelt appreciation. And these, Euler and I know what to do with...
"Gentlemen, that is surely true, it is absolutely paradoxical; we cannot understand it, and we don't know what it means. But we have proved it, and therefore we know it is the truth." (Bejamin Peirce)
