Book Report

Hi friends!
I suppose the silence on here is a good thing... we're all busily and happily working away, right? Well, not quite in my case. I was quite busy preparing for a solo show not long ago. Towards the end of the build up, I took a workshop and maybe derailed myself. I came back from New York City full of inspiring ideas, but just as I had dealt with on location, was unable to express what was in my head on the canvas. I seriously have pages in my journal/sketchbook where I thought I should just quit. Focus on being on the PTA, a dedicated mother and housekeeper, maybe get a part time job to fill in the economic gaps... I really hit a low and was seriously thinking that it was over. I've done this before, but not this bad.

Then I went to my bookshelf and picked up "Art & Fear" by David Bayles and Ted Orland which I'd read years ago - and then downloaded it from Audible to have it read to me in bed at night (lots of sleepless nights during this bleak time too).

What a huge help it was. After just a couple of chapters, I was ready to try again and cut myself some slack. It was as if the book had been written directly to me. I read passages aloud to my husband - things which described my angst, how hard it is to separate my art failures from me as a person, how much I demanded of myself, etc. There are a lot of great ideas in this book and if you are like me, a perfectionist and rather hard on yourself, its a great reminder that art is about imperfections and interpretation and its personal and most definitely not formulaic.

So I am back on track. I'm allowing myself to enjoy the summer and not stress about production. I am taking a slower approach. I have goals for the next steps of my art journey - another thing the book suggests. Its always good to have something to look forward to. And I do.

There must be thousands of inspiring books on creativity out there, what has moved you?

-- Robin

Just Keep Painting

from Robin Cheers

The advice my husband gave me last night. And my "mantra" akin to Dory's "just keep swimming" - JUST KEEP PAINTING.

The past two weeks have been a struggle. But I keep trying at least. I have granted myself permission to waste materials. To just try and if it doesn't work, I can wipe off or paint over later. Or wait and see if its got hidden potential.

I noticed my palette got stuck in a certain range and I painted 3 paintings with that same color scheme without even realizing it. So, I altered that. I've tried different compositions, going larger, then going smaller, but just keep going! I do tend to quit too soon. I think a lot of artists stop when it gets ugly. There is an ugly moment in many paintings, but we have to work past that and bring things together. I've been giving up and haven't believed in the painting.

I had the good fortune to attend an artist talk and demo with Quang Ho and Scott Christensen last weekend and they shared some wonderful thoughts which really made me stop and think.

Scott joked that artists have to "enjoy suffering" and need to be willing to have paintings fail. Fail not for lack of trying, but because you push yourself in order to learn and grow. And if you are making decisions as you paint, then you will have a positive outcome, but if you aren't making conscious choices as you work, then you are painting in fear.

Quang said you can't get attached, rather ask, "What if?"

Your Uniqueness: or, Why You Don't Have to Try So Hard

by Kate Merriman

On a wonderful plein air weekend trip to the Pedernales River area of Texas with my wonderful painter buddy Robin Cheers, I relayed a story to her that she asked I try to write up for this blog.

I'm not sure I can relay this so that it can be understood, but I will give it a try.

I think Robin and I were talking about that funny block we sometimes get when we see a subject we want to paint but the little inner gremlin says, "Well, why paint that?  You know that Penny Painter does paintings of (seashells / bank buildings / matchbooks) really well and all the time.  She's known for those.  The world doesn't need another painting of that same thing.  It's been DONE."

Sometimes, I have that gremlin try to convince me out of painting in that situation.  And often, remembering an experience I had at the Tassajara Zen Monastery on a beautiful meditation retreat can help me past it.  What's tricky is trying to put that experience into words, but again, I'm giving it a go.

So!

We meditators were practicing some sitting and some paying attention in the zendo with teacher Ed Brown.  His wonderful sense of humor and lightness of spirit was lifting me all week.  Toward the end of our time of sitting quietly, one of the monks-in-training could be heard walking along the boardwalk just outside the zendo building and then ringing the gong that let all the kitchen helpers know it was time to start cooking dinner.

Ed mentioned this in the talk he gave us just after meditation.  He laughed and explained that although (and probably BECAUSE) the students ringing that gong were consciously stripping away personality and attempting to ring the bell with ultimate adherence to form, he could always tell exactly which student was ringing that gong.  Their true energy, absent the neurotic flourish of "personal form" that they might want to put into the gong ringing, remained.  Maybe I should not say "remained" but say "was made more apparent."

Shortly afterward, I was in a painting class led by the wonderful Gary Stutler at Napa Community College and the memory of the gong-ringer story resurfaced and suddenly made sense with art-making.  It was a thought perfectly aligned with some teaching that Gary was giving about how the energy of the artist shows up in every stroke - part of why he was recommending, for example, that we stand up and really move when we painted if we wanted a dynamic piece. 

So back to the painting of a seashell.  Let's say Penny Painter really does create wonderful paintings of seashells.  If you and Penny tried to paint the same shell with the same formal approach, same palette, same perspective, and if you and Penny let go of all clinging about inserting your "personalities" into that painting, it is clear that the true energy and essence of each of you would cause there to be two authentically interesting, unique paintings. 

Is that interesting enough to you to proceed with your painting?  If not, what else is motivating you to paint? 

Can you think of paintings you've seen where it seems the output of pure unique energy of a person, but seems also not muddied by "personality"?  Can you think of artworks where all you see is "personality"?  Are you drawn to one over the other?

Something to think about!

And hopefully, a story that can help nudge you over that "gremlin block" about uniqueness next time it comes up.

Go artists!
-- Kate Merriman

Transitions

Feeling uninspired? Has the joy of creating disappeared? You could be resisting a transition. You may fear losing collectors, fear rejections, or fear the unknown and the unfamiliar. More fearful than any of these is the truth that blocking yourself from experiencing the transition can drag you into lethargy and methodically dull work.

Consider transition an adventure. If you allow yourself to experiment with a new idea or direction, an “aha” moment can lead you into exciting creativity. Remember, it’s the ideas that the great artists were considering that inspired them to do great work. Artists can not live on technique alone. Be open to not just what you see with your eyes, but read about everything. Get out and talk with people. Travel to a new location. Hear some new music. Go to museums…and not just art museums. And when something hits you powerfully, allow yourself to sketch, paint, and ponder your way through to a new level of creativity. Consider transitions adventure; the possibilities are exciting!

-- Terri M Wells