Where to Begin?

Has anyone ever told you to do something that you really had no clue how to do it or where to begin? I know I have. But somehow I always found a way. Maybe not the best way but the project always got done good enough. I feel like this often when creating too. Here is an example. I was asked to submit a piece to the GLAAD OutAuctionNYC in New York. The auction is in November. I had submitted and was accepted before with a piece I just happen to have on hand that fit that year's theme. This year however, I will have to create a piece from scratch.

At first I deleted the email since I didn't want the hassle of creating something special. Then the other night I was thinking about this, my stomach churned and the acid reflux began. This auction pressed a button. I dug out the email and read it again. I still have time to create something special just for this event to match its theme. I was getting excited by the idea of it. But, I had NO idea of what to do. So, I repeated the theme of the auction (btw, it is "In/Out") in my head a few times and went to bed. I woke up the next morning with nothing.

All through the day I began to notice the theme of in/out here and there and all the different ways it can or may apply. The potential is limitless. So there went my acid reflux again. It is limitless. Again, what to do? Where to begin? This is even bigger than I first thought. Before I went to bed last night, I commited to submitted a piece to the auction. I repeated the theme again and off to sleep I went.

This morning I still had no ideas! The frustration was mounting. As I began my creative portion of the day, I found myself looking for distractions. I had no ideas, no approach so I didn't want to start. I refocused and began by finishing up a piece I started a few weeks back. Now I had some momentum. Then I got out the blank canvas. A blank canvas, a blank piece of paper, a blank anything is intimidating. Fortunately, it isn't overwhelming. I told myself that I wasn't going to finish it today and in fact, I have two weeks to complete the painting. That is more than enough time even if I have some setbacks. So all I had to do today was to commit to begin. Not to paint for a certain period of time nor applied so many brush stroke or heaven forbid, finish it. Given the medium I selected, resin, and a layered approach, it is physically impossible to finish in one day. That was my out! It all fell into place. I can't finish it today so I don't have to try to do so. I just had to start. So I did!


Here it is! It took me 20 minutes to develop the first layer. As for the second layer, well, I have no clue. That is something for me to tackle tomorrow.

Ugly Duckling or Signpost?

This past week I was working on the forth recommendation of Bruce Mau's "Incomplete Manifesto for Growth", namely,

"Love your experiments (as you would an ugly child). Joy is the engine of growth. Exploit the liberty in casting your work as beautiful experiments, iterations, attempts, trials, and errors. Take the long view and allow yourself the fun of failure every day."

This week, I allowed myself to play and experiment a bit more than usual. It was uncomfortable. I have been programmed that failure is a bad thing to be avoided. In order to experiment and try next approaches or techniques, I had to definitely focus on the process more than the outcome (last weeks suggestion). No success, no failure. Here, more so than last week, I notice my compulsion for creating a product. That is to say, I was concerned how the final work my look and/or be received by others. Shaking "failing" was not easily done.

I pondered the "ugly child" metaphor a bit. An ugly child has beauty within, that is to say, the other positive attributes the child has, besides looks. I tried to apply this to my experiments this week. I wanted to see what "value" these experimental works had, what did they have to show me. It was hard to do. I couldn't see it. Given that I am a visual artist, the visual aspect was predominate in my thinking. They didn't look good (according to me) and I also had to suspend my expectations and desires of how the piece "should" look. I could not push my views on it. I had to accept it as is. No easy feat. Painful and frustrating in fact.

A few weeks ago, I was blessed with a stream of images that I am still attempting to capture. All of these are different in theme and technique from my most recent work. They are experiments. In working these pieces specifically, I had tried to keep the suggestions from the "Incomplete Manifesto" in mind, or at least the ones I've attempted to incorporate. The first piece, based on my standard thinking, didn't work out. I didn't like it. But, yet I was proud that I tried to stretch. I put it aside and began the second. Another approach hit me and before using it on the second piece, I returned to the first piece and applied it. After all, I couldn't "wreck" it since I didn't care for it in the first place. It became my sandbox. Low and behold, the new approach added to the piece bring it to life. The reason I didn't like the image was because I hadn't completed it yet. What a revelation! I was too quick to judge. I was ready to throw it out. Now, I can see what steps are now needed to truly finish it. I used the new approach on the second piece from the start and although I like the direction, the feeling is nothing like the first. Maybe the second one will reveal itself later as well.

Some of my experiments may result in a fantastic image, or they may yield nothing. I suspect that they will more often land in the middle, pointing to a new direction or quietly waiting for more knowing that it isn't yet complete. Ugly or a masterpiece, art has the opportunity and possibility to expand beyond the limits I have given it.

This week, I will focus on then next suggestion:

"Go deep. The deeper you go the more likely you will discover something of value."