Hand Forged Vessels

Friday, May 30, 2003

Too much creativity coaching.... Today I got the news that an unexpected guest is coming next week, a family member who's never been to our rustic cabin before. While cleaning up the kitchen after supper, a delightful thought crossed my mind. "I've had too much creativity coaching to get involved in a major cleanup." Ordinarily, such a visit would throw me into a dilemma: make a major effort to clean up the cabin, fix all the little things that need fixing, in order to make a better impression on our gues? Or stay with my priority on artmaking? It's wonderful to be free of this dilemma. I may have a few pangs as the visit draws closer. But I've had too much creativity coaching to think a clean house is more important than making art. This really makes me smile! 11:57:13 PM    comment []

Thursday, May 29, 2003

New calm strength Most of this week I've felt a new calm strength. I went ahead and marked and drilled 1/8" holes in my 5/16" round bar that I've curved to make part of my piece. (This is the piece with the lovely working title of CM3 - well, really, with a working title of "Take Heart.") And I drilled the matching holes in the base perfectly. The thing that seems so strange and wonderful is that I did it all without any anxiety - a certain excitement, exhilaration, but no worry or doubt. "Calm strength" is the only way to express it. I've been working on the other unsolved part of this piece (that is, the unsolved part that I know about. Something else may pop up later.) I have several solutions that look workable so it's just a matter of choosing the one that works best with the piece. It took some exploration at the hardware store and at www.mscdirect.com to find what I need - and I ended up ordering supplies from www.rings-things.com also, supplies I've wondered about for years! OK, now I'm going to find out which ideas work and which don't. This is all very extreme for one sculpture, but I'm still working out ways to join the paper and iron. So everything I do for these early pieces is also for dozens more to come. I'm working with great zest and excitement again. One thing on my list to do this week was to make space. You'd laugh if you saw the Nest (the little clean studio) now. When I made a hardware order this morning, I had my clipboard and notes and notebook perched on top of little boxes of screws and nuts that I'd unpacked the day before. I hadn't gotten to town to buy the little multi compartment boxes for them so they were just there on the table. The drawing board, needless to say, was covered with experiments on solving my joint problem. It says a lot about my state of mind that I dealt with all of this with calm humor. This afternoon I did get the boxes, so tomorrow everything will get put away. The big Dick Blick order came today, a few days earlier than I expected, so it will be a challenge to put those things away. Maybe I'll just wait till I finish what I'm doing with this piece and start painting iron. It dawned on me that my paint could be out of date by now. So I've decided to paint one or two of the little test pieces a day ahead of the rest of the paint jobs. If a layer doesn't apply or dry properly, I'll know in time. I can always get more at Grainger's in Gainesville if I have to. Last week I really didn't like starting first thing in the blacksmithing studio. I had painting experiments I wanted to do, and I was scared about going on with the pieces in iron. Also, for one reason or another I'd start in the blacksmithing studio and never get to the clean studio. So I missed it. But gradually I got into the work with iron, and have been able this week to start with iron and then move into the clean studio later. Now I'm really happy that I'm doing it this way. By July and hot weather, I'm sure I'll be glad. 10:18:05 PM    comment []

Friday, May 23, 2003

Strange reaction to ordering (and to not ordering) For the second time recently, once I placed a big order for art supplies, my "on" switch seemed to work again. This afternoon, I went ahead and ordered 20 small stretched canvases, 20 small illustration board panels, samples of other supports for paintings and collages, various mats to help visualize the framed work, etc. I've been fooling around with this order for a long time - three weeks? Have had the list ready or close to ready for about a week. Began to have cold feet about going in this direction, spending the money, etc. This morning my switch just seemed to be turned off, once I got to the studio. I dragged around. Finally got into a little sumi ink painting but that was it. Anxiety was very high. After lunch I washed my hair and then placed my Dick Blick order. Right away, I was turned on again. With a sense of effortlessness, I slid into doing one thing after another in the clean studio. Things that have been on my lists or nets for a week or two got done, and with pleasure. This seems to be a real pattern: (1) period of drag and doubt, (2) place order, (3) turn on and joyful action. I guess it has to do with trusting my hands (which want what I'm ordering) and giving myself freedom to make whatever I want to make. I wonder if anyone else notices this pattern in themselves. It would be great if I could just skip the period of drag and doubt. Why not try that next time? 10:36:36 PM    comment []

More on focus - and fear of mistakes Here's another dialogue with my 80-year-old self, who flourishes in my Dream Studio: Cathy (C): I'm bogging down - worried that I'm trying to do too many things at once. Even doing both paper and iron seems too big a challenge sometimes. So doing paintings and collages may be way too much. Plus I'm on the verge of - OK, here's my problem, I think. I'm on the verge of too much and I'm scared. I'm on the verge of: starting a bunch of bowls I don't know much about ordering a lot of painting and collage supports Well, I guess that's it. I just don't know what's too much. I used to know that 4 bowls at a time was my maximum. Now I'm not sure. So - how many pieces do you work on at a time? Older Cathy (OC): It depends on the complexity. Remember, you used to do cards 20 at a time. If you can do 20 in an hour or two, why not? So you don't know how many small paintings and collages you might want to do at once. What's wrong with just finding out by doing it? C: Because when I do take on too many, I get unhappy and stuck. Seems as if sometimes I just gave up and started over. OC: So? You lived! C: Well, I don't want to make a mistake. (Silence) OC: Look at it another way. If you were deliberately wild and foolish, determined to make a dumb mistake, what would you do next? C: That's easy. I'd do the Dick Blick order - and I'd go ahead and drill the ring bases - and I'd cut out as many bases and iron bowls as I felt like cutting out - I'd drill the CM3 base - I'd pack up stuff and move it out of the Nest, probably in boxes I already have - maybe get some bubble wrap for the glass molds. I guess that's it! OC: Well, you're all set then. Go! C: Oh. OK. 10:28:04 PM    comment []

Wednesday, May 21, 2003

How many things can I balance? This morning while working in the blacksmithing studio, I had an idea. Seems as if I keep having trouble balancing work with iron with work with paper and paint. I get going with one and don't exactly forget about the other, but don't get to it. How to keep going with both? My idea was dirt simple. I've already made a commitment to start in the blacksmithing studio first thing every morning. Why not add a commitment to do a certain amount of time with paper/paint/collage every day? Even half an hour could get me started. Of course, knowing me, I then added a bunch of other stuff. Why not half an hour (or an hour, or 45 minutes) on: iron paper/paint/collage cartoons bodywork of some kind (weights, cardio, walk, stretching - something) art business (website, database, writing, something) This is the kind of list that looks perfectly reasonable in the morning, but after supper looks ridiculous and overwhelming. Too many things. I enjoy life best when I can concentrate on one thing - get completely obsessed and passionate about it, forget about everything else. With two things, I can manage but get a little gripey. Three, and one of them really slips. Five? You've gotta be kidding! I did it in high school. Hour long classes, five solids at a time. ("Solids" were "heavy," serious subjects like algebra, history, English, science, French.) Didn't really like it though. One thing I loved about college at the U of Chicago was that I could take just three courses at a time. I always found connections among the three. And I could concentrate on three in a way I never could in high school. But I never did equally well in all three; one always slipped a little. So maybe my brilliant idea isn't so hot after all - for me. Not in the evening, anyway. Of course a later addition to this idea was to wait to open the computer till after I'd done something in each of the five areas. Maybe. It's beginning to sound as if I'm just wishing away my freedom again. Looking for rules. 9:23:00 PM    comment []

Lassie rated PG My last night before my life partner comes home. Watched the DVD of Lassie. It's a good thing I waited till I'm this old. It turns out that it's rated PG (Parental Guidance) because of "preteen mischievousness." No telling how it would have led me astray had I watched it when younger. I love dogs, especially big herding dogs, so I enjoyed the film a lot. 9:13:55 PM    comment []

Tuesday, May 20, 2003

Well, I can go unset the CD player. Did a quick Visit to my Dream Studio to consult my 80-year-old self about whether or not to try to get up earlier, get back to an 11pm to 7am sleep cycle. You can read the whole dialogue if you like, but the answer is no. This answer is just for me, for now. I can't say of course what anyone else should do. If you haven't figured that out by now, you haven't read much here. I've got my hands pretty full with my own life. Though I do post a lot at art message boards like the Crafts Report and Wet Canvas. Sometimes answers just pop out. 10:53:36 PM    comment []

Alone for a week My life partner has been away on a holiday for several days now. I can make a report now on some small discoveries. The main thing is that no possible benefits of a simple life living alone can possibly outweigh the benefits and joy of living with my partner. That said, I did a few things I wouldn't ordinarily do in our usual routine together. I slept later since no one was stirring about. This has been a mixed blessing and I have the CD player set to wake me up tomorrow. I ate greens for supper - steamed kale, to be specific. Also canned ravioli on a different night. It's amazing that my partner doesn't like canned ravioli, especially cold right out of the can, but there's no accounting for taste. A friend reminded me that I could be eating coffee ice cream like crazy. Maybe I'll go get some tonight or tomorrow. That hardly counts, though, since it's not unheard of to have two flavors of ice cream in the house, one for each of us. I cleared one kitchen counter completely and scrubbed it. It looked a little bare and odd, actually. I feel free to dump the mail on it since it's a convenient height. Or to sort papers on it. (Yes, I do wash it afterward.) Of course I've eaten whenever I've wanted to eat - no schedule. This has confirmed the generalization that people eat less when they just eat alone when they're hungry. I've actually spaced meals out more than I do usually when supper's always around six or six-thirty. One night I gave myself a full massage. (This is not as difficult as one might think - well worth trying if you've never done it.) To do this with my partner in the bed would be like being a huge cat making the bed shake in an hour long bath - not a considerate thing to do. I see that I could do it on a floor mat, though. I've only done it once so I can't say that I've established it as a habit. But I did sleep very soundly that night. I rented four DVDs that my partner would hate watching: Artificial Intelligence (too sci-fi), Anna and the King (too something), Lassie (too doggy), and Pollock (already watched.) Actually renting Pollock was my reason for going into Movie Gallery, but once there, I realized my opportunity. Dances with Wolves is my usual partner on holiday fare, but it was checked out. I got started again with weight lifting, but I don't see that as having anything to do with my partner being away. The report might be incomplete without an account of things I imagined I'd do if my partner were away for a week - but didn't do. At least, I haven't done them yet: Be much more productive in the studio. (OK, this was pretty lame to start with.) Get going again drawing cartoons in the evening. (It turns out I like to watch videos as much or more, alone or with my partner.) Do a lot more art study at night. I HAVE done some every evening, but it's about the same amount as I'd do with my partner here. Keep the cabin very uncluttered and clean. (It's nice to be able to spread out just MY junk everywhere, and I do take my shoes off when I come in the cabin - most of the time. But basically the cabin looks about the same as usual. Hey, that counter is clean though.) Would I trade a clean kitchen counter for my partner back early? You bet! Meanwhile - it's between going to get coffee ice cream and watching Lassie. I'm really suffering, right?     8:02:04 PM    comment []

Some satisfaction Today I got some work done in iron - not much, but enough to tell myself that I did some work in iron. The other satisfying thing is that I took a good long walk at a special place. Maybe this was an unconscious reward for some studio accomplishment. The walk was a late afternoon impulse. I drove about four miles to my favorite place for an afternoon or evening walk. It's on a quiet road on the edge of Sautee Valley. On one side of the road, a small forested mountain rises up. On the other, you look across calm pastures to the national forest mountains to the north. There's a large creek, a smaller stream with a little waterfall. Most of all, there's a sense of perfect harmony between human beings and the rest of nature. There's a balance between wildness and domestic comfort. Even on a cloudy day, it looks beautiful to me: I've found that if ever I'm disturbed about something, or just generally unhappy, a walk along this road never fails to calm and soothe me. There's a sense of happiness there that's beyond words, beyond thought. It's a bodily sense of well being that just comes naturally. Why don't I walk there every day? I feel a little funny about driving a total of 9 miles round trip to do it. That's $3.29 at this year's mileage rate, or $98.55/month if I went every day. Then again, I guess that's cheap for what it does, isn't it? 7:43:59 PM    comment []

Monday, May 19, 2003

Got some guidance about weight training I don’t know when I’ve felt so indecisive about how to do the weight-lifting. It started when I read The Power of 10 book and tried it. I did it for a little while – 6 weeks I guess – but kept skipping sessions and finally just tapered off altogether. Recently I looked at past weight lifting logs and concluded that I’d made the most progress using the BFL program. So I decided to go with that again, even photocopied the forms. Then I read that 1 set (slow 6 reps) is enough for upper body, while lower body progress is greater with 3 sets.   Now it’s time to fill out the forms for a session this afternoon, and I still feel completely stuck. I chose exercises for LBW (lower body workout), but the UBW doesn’t include forearm exercises, which I think I really need in order to protect my elbow. I’m starting to feel desperate. This feels ridiculous. So I decided to do a Visit to my Dream Studio, to consult my Older Self. (She's in her eighties and in great shape, can forge all day if she wants - so she must know how to do this.)   I posted the whole dialogue as a story.     5:36:41 PM    comment []

Sunday, May 18, 2003

Getting dressed this morning, I thought about the osteoporosis experiment - the clinical trial. "Why would I ever want to go to a doctor who wasn't interested in me as a whole person?" But the staff doing the clinical trial aren't paid to deal with me as a whole person - only to measure certain factors that are part of the experimental design. What struck me is that there must be some application to art. Isn't it possible to make art while only paying attention to certain factors, not to the piece as a whole? What pops to mind is a study of some element - line, say, or perspective. Or the kind of Hofmann exercise I've been doing lately. But I'm not just talking about exercises for study. What would it mean to pay attention to the work of art as a whole? To the work as a whole being? As a subject? OK, now we're getting down to it. This is the ideal of course - for the painting or bowl or cartoon to have its full life and being and subjecthood. If the artist can't or won't relate that way to the work - then who can? And how could the work be fully realized, fully alive? That's certainly PART of the answer as to how Pollock painted the fractals. He made it his full intention to relate completely to the painting and to what the painting wanted. And of course he was willing to leave behind all the prescriptions of what a painting is, and how it should be done. This last part - being willing to leave behind all the prescriptions, all the established ways of "doing it right," even all the definitions of what "it" is (what a painting is, what a sculpture is) - this is what all the artists did who worked ahead of the scientists. (I'm thinking here of Art and Physics,by Leonard Shlain. That's the book that describes how certain artists expressed in their paintings and sculptures, ideas that were only later expressed or discovered in physics. Shlain talks about Pollock but at the time he wrote the book, the computer analysis hadn't been done yet - the analysis that showed Pollock was painting perfect fractals. Now I'm thinking about Monet, who didn't do caricatures to earn money to feed his family because he needed all his time to try to capture what he saw. I'm thinking about Matisse, who changed from a lucrative and popular way of painting just after he "had it made," to a way of painting that brought him scorn and poverty. I'm thinking about Henry Moore, whose first exhibition of ten years worth of sculpture brought devastingly negative reviews. This is the kind of strength of character required to make real art, isn't it? Art that expresses nature from the inside? Art that helps the world evolve? 6:29:33 PM    comment []

Saturday, May 17, 2003

How did Pollock do it? Ever since I read two or three years ago about the fractals in Jackson Pollock's drip paintings, I've wondered how he did it. He painted these fractals about 25 years before fractals were discovered by scientists. Clearly it wasn't an intellectual, contrived thing. Remember how when questioned (I think it was by Hofmann) about why he didn't paint from nature, Pollocked answered: "I AM nature." It turns out that he was absolutely correct. He was painting the way nature makes trees, clouds, cracks in mud. He was doing it swiftly, with sure gestures. He was painting as a whole person. But how, really, did he know to do this? I'd really, really like to know. 7:00:54 PM    comment []

Friday, May 16, 2003

Push myself to complete work? This is another Dialogue with Cathy on Her Path. My creativity coach has been gently nudging me to consider whether or not it's still important to me to complete a series of bowls this year. Clarifying my deepest intention makes it clear that just enjoying a creative process isn't enough for me. I also want to put artwork into the world that will embody and radiate aliveness long after I'm gone. So clearly I need to complete work. The question is: if I just keep doing whatever I most want to do, will I naturally complete my artwork? Or do I need to push myself to complete it? I decided to ask the Self who's really on my true path: Cathy on Her Path. 1:55:14 PM    comment []

Avoiding freedom I notice with some amusement that as I feel and act more and more free, I start to yearn for rules. A good clue to this is a sudden interest in doing the Body for Life program again. There's nothing wrong with this program really. It works. I felt enormous energy toward the end of my first 12-week challenge. It's just that it is quite obsessive. I used to spend time every evening filling out forms for the following day: exactly what I would eat when, exactly how I'd do my cardio or weight-lifting and when. I'd agonize if I was half an hour late for a prescribed meal. I followed all the rules exactly. It makes for a wonderful distraction. And of course it's easier in many ways than paying attention, being aware. When I consult any reliable source of guidance such as a Visit to my Dream Studio (consulting my 80-year-old self) I'm told that all I need to do is walk, lift weights, stretch, and eat what I truly want to eat, with attention - and of course, to make my art. It's odd that this seems more difficult than following a very prescribed program exactly. Then again, of course it's not odd. Freedom is perhaps our greatest challenge in life - to learn to be free. And it's the little girl in me who wants these rules. She wants so desperately to be a Good Girl. Then everyone will be happy - Mommy, Daddy, Grandmother, Grandfather, teacher, and the Good Girl herself. Mmm-hmm. It never actually quite works out that way though, does it?   11:34:22 AM    comment []

Simple three-fold intention. Here's a simpler version of my intention: I choose to free my Artist self.  I choose to make art in a process of full aliveness. I choose to make art that embodies energies of aliveness. Here's an even simpler version than that: Free the Artist in myself. Make art in a process that enlivens me. Make art that embodies aliveness. It's evident that the third aspect: "Make art that embodies aliveness," includes the first two, really. I don't think it's possible to make art that embodies aliveness, that makes this aliveness available to the world, without freeing the Artist in myself. Nor can it be done without a process that enlivens me. So maybe all I really need is this: to make art that embodies aliveness. A better way of saying it might be: To make art that embodies and radiates aliveness. Because with the bowls, as sculptures, I want them to change the space around them - or at least, the natural human perception of space. 11:20:57 AM    comment []

Thursday, May 15, 2003

One of my absolute favorite quotations, from Henry David Thoreau: To improve the quality of the day, that is the highest of arts. 3:32:42 PM    comment []

You can also use the net or mind map to get an overview of the artwork ideas you're exploring right now. Here's an example I did this morning: It can also be interesting and helpful to do an "intellectual mind map" occasionally. For this, you usually need a much larger sheet of paper - at least 11x17. Note that you can fold 11x17 sheets slightly offset so you can still 3-hole punch them to put into binders. And you can even trim more 11x17 sheets slightly and tape them to the main one, so you can create very large mind maps that still fold into a binder. I did this earlier in the year when I consolidated a lot of ideas for my bowls. An "intellectual mind map," though, is a way to discover links among various areas of knowledge that interest you a lot. It gives you a wonderful picture of "of all the myriad things to study and learn about in the world, these are the topics that really interest me personally." If you want to learn more about nets and mind mapping, there's quite a bit of information online that a google search will produce. You can even buy software for making mind maps on the computer. I've looked at the software options occasionally but have never tried any. You can also buy software that organizes your computer documents more like a mind map. I think it cross-files documents automatically so you have lots more links among files than with a usual hierarchical method of filing. I learned about mind mapping mostly from a book on writing, called Writing the Natural Way. That's where I learned that as you're making a net, at the same time you discover what to do next. I'm not sure how this works, but it does work 95% of the time. By the time you're done, you move naturally into doing one of the sparks - or in the case of writing, you know how to start writing. Another classic source of information on mind mapping is The Mind Map Book,by Tony Barzun. He's written several based on mind mapping. From Barbara Sher's book, Wishcraft, I learned that making a flow chart has more power than a list. Like a net, the flow chart uses little circles or ovals connected with lines. You can organize a project in flow chart form. It shows you at a glance what has to be done before something else - and what you can do right now to move the project along. I used this to organize the building of my first blacksmithing studio, which I built myself with the help of two friends. Without the flow chart, I don't think I'd have believed I could do it. If you're going to post something on the wall to help you stay focused, I think a flow chart works better than a list. Of course, it may be different for you. That's where experimentation comes in. 2:13:36 PM    comment []

Netting - like a mind map for the day At some point recently I started experimenting with the idea of simply doing what I most want to do - trusting this process. This starts in the morning. I get up and over my first cup of coffee, "net" the sparks for the day. I think I've mentioned this before. I draw a small circle in the middle of the page, and write in it "sparks" plus the date, like "thur 5/15/03." Then I let the pen or pencil jot down more little circles with lines connecting them to the center and/or to each other. Each circle has a word or two to express a "spark" - something that I feel a real spark of attraction to do today. Hmm. With the new scanner, why not scan in a net so you can see what I mean? (Bear in mind that I was doing this net for myself, so I just scrawled out stuff I'd understand - no excellence in penmanship here.)   11:50:44 AM    comment []

A quick check to see if I'm on my path Lots of ideas are evolving about making some small things to sell along with my bowls: small paintings and collages, plus inkjet prints and notecards from those. What holds the ideas together is the theme I'm exploring now in both bowls and collage. Still, this morning I thought I'd check to see if these "extra" things are distractions pulling me off my true path. The simplest way I know to check, is to do the "unlimited resources" exercise. This is a quick free-writing exercise. By free-writing, I mean that you let the pen or pencil write without any attempt to plan or control what it says. You discover your meaning as you write. To do the "unlimited resources" exercise, you write at the top of the page something like "If I had unlimited resources - all the space, money, and assistance I could possibly ask for - even dream of - what would I do?" Then you let the pen or pencil write whatever comes. I used to do this as the "ten million dollar" exercise. "If I had ten million dollars, what would I do?" At some point, ten million dollars didn't seem to have the effect I wanted. And you'll notice that I added "space" as well as money and assistance, because for several years I've felt very cramped for studio space. Here are my results for this morning: "If I had unlimited resources - all the space, money, and assistance I could possibly ask for - dream of - what would I do?" -------- Same thing as now - I'd do whatever I most wanted to do - collage, painting, bowls - definitely cartoons too - studying as I go. I'd go ahead and declutter this place and make it as beautiful and comfortable and inspiriting as possible. [Note: by "this place" I meant all of Stonebank Farm - the cabin, my studio, my partner's workshop/office, and various little storage places - and the five acres or so of land.] I'd take good care of myself without being obsessive about it. I'd expect that if I felt a passionate, heartfelt desire to make something, then it's needed in the world by someone who will value it and pay me well for it. ----- That was it. No dramatic changes. A nudge to get with the cartoon drawing again and to follow my impulses to declutter the place (and why not plant more flowers) but on the whole, I'm right where I want to be, doing what I want to do. This is a helpful check to do every few months. 11:49:18 AM    comment []

Saturday, May 10, 2003

My deepest intention My creativity coach suggested I clarify my deepest intention. I did. It's short, but since I'll want to refer to it often, I'm going to write it as a linked article as well as a post here. So I'll add a link to it in the column at the right of the page. This is my deepest intention. It's three-fold: three aspects of one process. 1) to free the Artist in myself - thus becoming fully alive and present in the world. 2) to add a radiant energy of aliveness to the world by my process of creating art. 3) to embody that energy in physical works of art - bowls and paintings and collages and cartoons. The third aspect is important because it means that this energy stays available to other people, stays available in the world. Writing this, I realize that I believe that it's possible to make art that embodies energy that doesn't ever get used up. Nor does the energy get weakened or contaminated or corrupted. The artwork doesn't absorb "ungrounded human emotions" (in "Perelandra" terms.) Let me explain more what I mean. In her writings, Machaelle Small Wright of the fabulous Perelandra garden research, teaches that nature absorbs "ungrounded human emotions." Sometimes plants and animals even die because they become so weakened by this. (Please realize that this is my interpetation of her writing, and none of this is authorized by her. I'm not directly quoting her here.) Writing my intention, I realize that I believe that it's possible to make artwork that's powerful enough not to absorb these emotions or to do so without diminishing its power. Picture a person whose in the grip of some truly evil course of thought and action. His life is on a downward spiral. He's in an art museum. On the wall is a painting that radiates a certain indefinable energy. Does the person's energy have the power to negate the energy of the painting? To diminish it? Corrupt it? It depends on the painting. But it's quite possible that there are paintings that could be totally unaffected by any viewer's energy. Also, of course, there could be sculptures as powerful, or bowls, or weavings. In other words, the energy of the artwork has real power. Wouldn't this power be essentially a religious power, a "binding back to the Source?" To me, this makes artmaking a most exciting endeavor. Whether one succeeds or fails hardly matters when the project itself is so compelling. To make even a small step in the direction of my intention, seems more significant than anything else I could do. To have a chance to work - what a great thing that is. 10:49:11 PM    comment []

Wednesday, May 07, 2003

Can't believe I'm really doing this Yesterday I avoided the studio entirely. I stayed in the cabin with the books and catalogs and computer, learning more about how to frame paintings and collages. I'd been especially puzzled about how to frame "deep" collages that need a lot of space below the glass. Found my answers online. Also I cleared out my clothes closet and got out summer shorts. As with the books, I didn't get rid of as many items as I'd expected. But the ones I kept are comfortable and look okay on me. And if I needed to make a trip to a gallery tomorrow, I could do it. In the shower this morning I started hearing "who do you think you are?" voices and "you can't do paintings and collages, you make bowls!" "No no no!" Still, I went to the studio with some zest. I compared 8x10 with 9x12 formats. The 8x10 looked awfully small. Finally I realized that the hottest spark I felt was for drawing 1 inch grids on the 9x12 watercolor blocks. I saw that this size grid would enable me to carry out one of my hottest ideas. With a sense of leaping out of a plane with an unopened parachute, I began. Did six in all, then put everything away. Of course I enjoyed it all, and it seemed effortless. Next will be experimenting with painting a relatively thin line. I used to do some brush lettering with black acrylic paint, so I don't think this will be a big problem if I practice a little first. And I don't necessarily need the gridlines to look like printed ones. It may be better that they're a little uneven. Still, I can hardly believe I'm really doing this. Me? Painting? "Maybe I really just saw pictures of my ideas and someone else has already made the paintings and collages I have in mind. I'm just bringing them up from distant memory, and they're not really my ideas at all." "I'm a bowlmaker, remember? I have some training working with iron. But nothing says that I can paint." Etc. etc. Blah blah blah. Ha! I'm doing it anyway. 4:33:33 PM    comment []

Tuesday, May 06, 2003

Discovering Decisions I remember reading a long time ago that there are two ways of making decisions. One is to think things through and come to a reasoned decision. The other is to "discover" the decision. The book proposed that people tended to favor one method or the other. Actually, I seem to do it both ways, but the discovered decisions interest me more. I come across these "discovered" decisions several ways. A main one is to reorganize stuff - books and file folders, computer files, clothes, etc. In the process of sorting through things, discarding some, putting others in news places - I end up realizing that my direction has shifted. The books on my "most important" shelf may be on a new topic. All the books on a certain approach to diet or health may now be in the giveaway pile. I've thrown out all the files on a certain topic. Maybe I trust these decisions more than the consciously thought through ones, because they come from a deeper level of my being. They may seem shallower because they're more spontaneous, even impulsive. Yet my ambitions, my rules, my fears, all the factors that can skew a conscious decision, seem to have less play. Of course, I may not be paying attention to important facts, either. Still, on the whole, I find these discovered decisions more trustworthy. I didn't fully realize this till I started writing this entry. If you're reading this and not doing a weblog of your own, I hope you'll consider it. There's something about it that's different from a private journal, that leads to new discoveries. 1:26:24 PM    comment []

Monday, May 05, 2003

study and spontaneity At the library Saturday I was browsing in two books on Hans Hofmann. I was struck by how Hofmann taught his students theory and principles and rules - methods of composition and color choice - yet in his own studio, aimed to paint completely spontaneously. What I have in mind for myself, is to do studies that are careful explorations of ideas and design principles, and to practice drawing realistically - yet do the "real work" quite spontaneously. This feels promising to me - the best of both ways of work. It's a little like the interplay between order and spontaneity. I can usually make art spontaneously best in a studio that has a certain level of order to it. That way, when I reach out my hand for a tool, it's there. When my intuition calls for a certain material, I can find it right away. I'm hoping that some structured studies will, like the studio order, provide a strong pro-creative environment for the spontaneous artmaking. Meanwhile, I still feel such a hum of excitement about the art in progress. It makes me feel richer than anything else could possibly offer. There's nothing like "bowl hum!" 11:56:27 PM    comment []

Sunday, May 04, 2003

Clearing space, Hofmann, and knowing I'm going to be all right Today I stayed up in the cabin and cleared out books and notebooks. My haul of books to give away ended up at only two boxes. I was a little disappointed. My half formed fantasy had been that I'd daringly use the 80:20 rule to weed out 80% of my books, leaving only the one out of five that give me 80% of the results. Sigh. So when have I ever been satisfied with 80% of the results? Anyway, at least I cleared some space. Spring decluttering seems to be inevitable here. Once the weather starts to warm, yard sales spring up every weekend all up and down the highways. It must be a natural spring urge. I had expected to throw away all the contents of my thick binders of notes from three Body for Life challenges. They've been on a high shelf, accessible only by household ladder, since well before I fell last year and broke some bones. I've wondered if my bones broke so easily partly because of the relatively high protein diet I did for about a year on the Body for Life program. Instead of tossing them out, I found myself thinking "all this exercising was kind of exhilarating. I had a lot of energy. Why not do this again, but without getting so obsessive about it?" (This may be a contradiction in terms, but that's what I thought.) I consolidated all the web design books into one place. At one point I had them all stacked on a table. The height of the pile was astonishing. It seems odd that all the computer books are on the side of the room across from the computer, instead of right beside it. It would be logical to switch them with the books on art. But I don't want to do it. The bookshelves closest to the computer feel more important to me. And I don't want the computer books to claim that priority. So I'll just have to walk over there to get them when I need them. This evening I used the new scanner to scan in two studies for a composition "class" on the Wet Canvas message board. I'm hoping it's not too late to enter into the ongoing interaction and feedback. The thread is about Hans Hofmann's methods of analyzing (and designing) compositions. Recently, after having read some books about Matisse, I've gotten intensely interested in Hofmann. It's funny, because I know I looked at books on Hofmann two or three years ago without a spark of attraction. Yesterday I went to a local college library to see if they've bought any new art books of interest. No, not in the last two or three years! But I did find two books on Hofmann. I sat down with them for a while. Some of the paintings just blew me away. (How's that for erudite aesthetic response?) I came home and ordered one of the books. Then today I ordered a book on his teachings, written by a former student of his. I guess you can tell that I'm just doing what I really want to do. I'm starting to trust myself more. Best of all, somehow I've begun to feel some basic sense that I'm going to be all right. It's a kind of solid knowing, "I'm going to be all right," that feels wonderful. I haven't felt it for so long. Six years? Longer than that, I think - more like seven at least. It feels great. At the same time, it feels perfectly normal, as if this is the way to feel all the time, naturally. Of course it is.   10:20:14 PM    comment []

Saturday, May 03, 2003

Clearing spaces Here's an odd thing. For most people, it seems to work best to leave a work session in such a way that it's easy to pick up where they left off. For example, some writers stop in mid sentence and leave the page in the typewriter. (OK, this is a pretty old example. There must be a word processing program equivalent.) Theoretically, it should be easier for me to start a new work session if I've left everything out on the table, ready to pick up where I left off. If I have something half forged, why not leave it on the anvil, with the hammers right where I can pick them up? If I have paper partly molded, why not leave out the gel medium, the pieces of paper, etc. so I can just sit down and start working again? It should work, but it almost always backfires. I avoid the work instead of picking back up with it. Or I wake up with a fantastic idea to pursue, but in order to do it I have to put away all the things that are cluttering up my work space. What actually works for me is to clear my main work spaces when I quit work for the day. The next morning, I start fresh. It means some setup time, but at least I do start. I have no idea why this works better for me. Perhaps someone reading this can explain it. And I haven't met anyone else for whom this works better. Oh wait - I do remember someone. The great artist-blacksmith, Tom Joyce, said at the 1989 Penland design conference that he had all his employees put everything away not only at the end of the day, but at lunchtime too. Now that I think of it, this might make a difference when I have to come up to the cabin for lunch. It never occurred to me before I wrote this now. I'll give it a try. 11:45:40 AM    comment []

Helpful Voice I've noticed that after negative thoughts are more or less banned, a new voice appears. I call this Helpful Voice. I'll be moving along, and out of the blue a new thought will appear that's genuinely helpful. It gives something of the sensation of someone looking over my shoulder and saying something helpful. So I call this Helpful Voice. What distinguishes Helpful Voice is partly the calm tone. It always offers positive advice. It's always encouraging. And it's practical. Helpful Voice never makes philosophical or theological comments. It's very down to earth, helping me do something that works. It's easy to distinguish Helpful Voice from any sneaky comments by the Critic. Helpful Voice is never sarcastic. Helpful Voice never recommends giving up or committing suicide. Those are big clues that the voice is really the Critic, no matter how sweet the tone. It seems as if one has to make space for Helpful Voice, or it doesn't get heard. And if the overall emotional tone of thoughts is negative, it seems to stay away. This makes sense. If someone is raging or screaming or sobbing, there's no point in going over to say "I think a quarter of an inch to the left would work better." So the first step in inviting more Helpful Voice comments is to make space. What's worked for me in the past is to use the standard rubber band technique. I'd wear a loose rubber band on one wrist. When I caught myself thinking or speaking a "detour phrase" I'd snap the rubber band, say "cancel cancel" and substitute a positive version. For example, if I were working in the studio with iron, a usual "detour thought" would be "Oh no, I have no idea how to do this!" Cancel cancel. Substitute thought would be "I need to find out how to do this." I also made a rule that if I insisted on indulging in detour thoughts, fine, but I'd have to leave the studio. I could go outside. This sounds absurd but it worked. These procedures developed after I realized that "detour thoughts" spiraled. One led to another. "I have no idea how to do this" never led to finding out, only to thoughts like "How did I ever think I could do this work?" and "Mother told me my spatial visualization wasn't up to three dimensional work." At that point, Helpful Voice didn't have a chance. So I started noting down the thoughts that tended to start things going amiss. I called them "detour phrases." They're like sign posts. Their roads are always detours, never getting me where I wanted to go - or at least, taking me a very long way around. Once I had my list of detour phrases, I could identify them right away and do my cancel cancel substitution trick. There are other little tricks that help when things start to go wrong in the studio. One I learned from Tim Gallwey's classic, The Inner Game of Tennis, is to respond to any mistake with a long, appreciative "Ah!" (It works in playing table tennis, too. It breaks the chain of one mistake leading quickly to another.) Rosamund and Benjamin Zander (in The Art of Possibility) recommend raising both arms and exclaiming, "How fascinating!" Both "Ah!" and "How fascinating!" make a little calm space in which Helpful Voice can appear. Ideally, of course, all of life is open to Helpful Voice. But it's quiet most of the time, speaking only when it has some practical little observation that would really help. Just hearing it is encouraging. I welcome the practical help. More than that, I welcome the sound of a truly encouraging voice, focused on exactly what I'm trying to do. What more can I ask of a voice in my head? Well, maybe I could ask for more about the meaning of life, but that's a different story. 11:02:44 AM    comment []

Thursday, May 01, 2003

Did it! Bought the scanner Went on a jaunt today to buy the scanner. (Nearest CompUSA is about 1 1/2 hour drive away.) I know I could have ordered it online and had it delivered, but I wanted to go get it. It installed with no problem. This is a super duper and mid-expensive scanner, Epson Perfection 3200. Scanning seems fine so far. I was disappointed that the scanned and printed lines on a cartoon (line drawing) seem slightly thicker than the original. That's all on automatic settings so I'll play around with it to see if I can find a better way. Haven't tried scanning any old slides yet. What does the new scanner open up? (I've been about nine months now without a scanner.) making a "real" website because I can scan in photos and slides of bowls I've already photographed scanning in paintings and collages, printing them out onto cards - even reproducing some as small prints to sell facilitating cartoon drawing - scanning and enlarging cartoons to study, making copies of finished cartoons to submit to magazines scanning in my painted artwork to print out for use in collages Maybe there's more, but I'm tired tonight. Happy. Tomorrow promises to be a quiet and rich studio day. 10:31:44 PM    comment []