An artiste is something you don't want to be, that is, if you consider yourself an artist.
While it sounds akin to archaic words like poetess or authoress, which in years passed denoted a female poet or author, an artiste is a "sort of" artist, a person who is more concerned with looking and sounding and appearing like their interpretation of being an artist than in actually producing a drawing or painting.
It's a sailboat, on the ocean, on a breezy day. It's okay to use every day, easy to understand words, formed into clear sentences, to describe our paintings and our lives. Just Breezin', original oil painting by Steve Henderson.
They may or may not wear a beret. They may be flamboyant, or deeply brooding and sensual. When they speak, they're difficult to understand because they either 1) use really big words or 2) use words inappropriate to the context. Like this: "The synergistic energy of the revelatory vibrations of organic sensations in this work encapsulates the broad-based foundational experience of the human condition."
I don't know. It looked like a loosely constructed tree in the middle of a sweeping, brushstroke-filled landscape painting to me.
If you're not careful, a brief conversation with an artiste can leave you feeling bumbling, awkward, foolish, and dumb because you can't understand what they are saying, feel as if you should be able to, and are unable to contribute positively to the conversation.
Don't worry. The problem isn't with you. For whatever reason, some people paint a mask on themselves, presenting an artificial front of what they would like to be but know that they're not. Everyone would be a lot happier if they would simply embrace who and what they are and approach their relationships honestly. But that's not how humans act. Recognize this. Know that you're an intelligent person and that you have something to say about art, and if you're cornered against someone who makes you feel that you don't, then excuse yourself to the cheese and crackers table and get away.