Obscurity is no virtue in modern society. It is often met with contempt, and I would argue that simply living in this modern world creates some desire to buck obscurity. Why else is Facebook the second-most visited website in the entire world (second only to Google)? It is a chance to tell people who you are, even when no one has asked.

There is no better proof of this distaste for obscurity than the forms of entertainment it has created. What began with “The Gong Show” more than 30 years ago is now an entire industry of reality-based television, allowing “every-day” people to be famous for a moment because they can play a giant harmonica in a pair of over-sized denim overalls or because they have the will-power to eat a bucket of scorpions. YouTube has further contributed to this phenomenon by allowing anyone to upload a personal video about anything at all, regardless of public interest. Even Shakespeare wrote about this phenomenon, though I wonder if he ever imagined anything like this.

Yesterday, I mentioned that one of my favorite aspects of the Olympics is the unknown world the athletes live in prior to the games. Olympians are the most gifted athletes in the world, and with a few exceptions aside, live entirely under the radar. They train to grueling schedules for years leading up to the games, only to compete for a few moments of Olympic glory. It is the purest pursuit of athletic achievement possible.

This fact leads to some really honest fandom, too. So many pro athletes live a tabloid journalist’s dream, the public choosing to feed off the person’s baggage rather than their talent (the same can be said for musicians, actors, politicians and all kinds of public figures). With Olympians, however, the junk is filtered out, giving the public nothing to muse over but talent. It also allows the athletes to prepare without the intrusion of a nosey public. Their path is often filled with such struggle that even the lifestyle journalism recorded on the athletes focuses on points of inspiration, not gossip. In a way, it’s the last truly private way to be a public figure.

If you doubt this, consider Tiger Woods. The world’s best golfer was once noted for his privacy yet golf ratings soared, thanks to fans who wanted to see what the best looked like. Now that his personal life is front and center, I guarantee the general public would now rather see him fail when he returns to golf because his private life and public suffering is now more interesting than his professional achievement.

I can’t help but believe this holds true for artists. If the world’s best athletes become the best through private discipline, then artists would certainly thrive from a measure of privacy. Art becomes more daring, envelopes get pushed and very good creative things happen. Imagine how empowered an artist would feel if he or she could hone their skills under the guidance of a master instructor rather than the failure-hungry general public? We have no idea because popular culture does not support this model of development.

Additionally, imagine how freely and boldly an artist will create if he or she didn’t feel the need to constantly exhibit their art. I’m not saying an artist shouldn’t share their art, but the easy-access platform of YouTube, MySpace, Facebook and such opens the door to easy cynicism and criticism. Mocking YouTubers is a sport unto itself—just read the comments below a video. If artist’s allowed themselves more privacy, they might find a dimensioned need for validation and create art more freely. This might not hold true for everyone, but I know I would benefit from caring less about my peer’s opinions. Just a thought.

The Way of Obscurity, it seems, is a narrow path, traveled only by the most disciplined of people. I say we let these few travel this path in peace.

-Whit