Captured Accidents

This past week, I was attempting to incorporate another recommendation from Bruce Mau's "Incomplete Manifesto for Growth,"

"Capture accidents. The wrong answer is the right answer in search of a different question. Collect wrong answers as part of the process. Ask different questions."

My accident: I made too much resin for a particular piece I was working on. My previous question would have been "how do I mix just the right about of resin that I need?" The new question that arose was "what else can I do with the 'extra' resin?" That started the ball rolling.
How do I know I had an accident? I said (to myself) "dammit, I mixed too much resin." I acknowledged an unexpected situation, the accident.

I answered the new question with a new process and technique. It came to me on the fly. The result was one of my favorite pieces I have ever created. I developed a new process which was necessary since I was working with premixed and slightly cured resin. My normal process would not have worked, there wasn't enough time. So the new process was a bit of an experiment, kinda. I had played with the new process a little bit previously but never committed myself to it. This time, since I was feeling experimental and more open minded that usual, I went for it. I'm glad I did. The result is amazing. So much so, I am planning on implementing the new process again this week on a larger scale. This is still somewhat an experiment because scale is one of those variables that can change things due to the time constraints. But I'm confident in this new direction.

The other thing I find interesting are my two questions. The first is limiting, speaking of reduction, and in a sense, constraints. The second question is looking at doing more. And with more comes abundance and change. Maybe I'm reading too much into these seemingly harmless questions but I believe there is a fundamental shift in thinking that can or has occurred by viewing accidents through a different lens. Accidents are not accidents, they are opportunities. I was not expecting this "revelation" at all.

Perhaps there really isn't anything known as an accident. Perhaps accidents are something that interfere with my plans unexpectedly but allow me to take a different approach or direction. Perhaps accidents are really gifts from above.

I like this recommendation and I encourage you to acknowledge the accidents that do occur and stop for a second and ask a different question. I suspect things will turn out differently and better than imagined.

Next, I am looking at

"Study. A studio is a place of study. Use the necessity of production as an excuse to study. Everyone will benefit."

To be honest, I don't understand this one or what it is suggesting. But, I'll ponder it and hopefully it will come to me.

TGIF!

I'm sitting on the patio writing and attending to administrative tasks, eating peanut M&Ms and drinking Diet Coke (caffeine free). I was thinking TGIF. Why? I control my week and my schedule 100% now. I'm not bound by the traditional work week schedule, but I do seem to follow it relatively closely still. Being an artist is a solitary profession. I am alone most of the time. I have to be in order to do what I do. By the end of the week, not only am I tired of working but I'm also tired of being alone. The older I get, the more I want to be around people. The weekends are my time to interact with people, most of whom work the 9 to 5 daily grind.

I don't mind being alone most of the time but I have noticed a few things that I am still adjusting to. On good days, when things seem to fall into place or a finish a piece that I not only enjoyed creating but I like the end result, I alone can celebrate my success. There isn't anyone nearby or close to share the excitement. I'm slowly learning to celebrate my own successes, to celebrate me. Of course it is always nice to share these experiences with others but being alone doesn't lessen the fact that I accomplished something good and I can be a very good cheerleader for myself. Although I haven't figured out how to pat myself on the back without hurting myself and ending up in an advanced yoga position.

On bad days, when things seem to fall apart, I get rejected from a gallery, a piece gets damaged, or one of the countless things that can happen in a day, there isn't anyone there to help console me. I also am learning how to comfort myself (without binging on junk food). At the same time, there isn't anyone one to criticize either. Reducing criticism is very important for anyone. I believe it slow erodes at self confidence (subject for another day).

The more I rely on myself and less on the approval, rejection, consolation, celebration of others, the more that I enjoy the moments I spend with other people. I'm not leaning on them. We now interact together, what is going on with you, what is going on with me. Basic stuff. But the basic stuff can be rather deep sometimes. We lean on each other. It is mutual, not one way. I don't need to rely on others to help provide me with a sense of identity or, on the flip side, my identity is not dependent on the views, actions and emotions of others. I'm free and detached which, ironically, allows me to be more available to them. We can deal with the interaction, not the trivial details.

So when it gets to be quitting time or the weekend, I'm excited. I have the opportunity to mingle with my friends and possibly meet new ones. And we get to interact together without all the crap of the week. It was taken care of. Plus I get the opportunity to be alone so I can do what I do best, produce images that challenge people to look at things differently, whether they like it or not.

I'm nearly done here for the week. I have a few more things to do and then I'm heading downtown for a gallery opening. I wonder who I might run into tonight.

I Yearn Therefore I Am

I was having lunch today with some friends when Tom used the word "yearning." I mentioned that people don't use the work "yearning" much. To be honest, I thought I should look it up just in case it is one of those words I use incorrectly (yes, it happens). One definition that kept popping up is "To have a strong, often melancholy desire. " Seems intense to me. But, I can also relate.

As an emerging artist, I have notice that I have many yearnings. I yearn to create original and impactful art. I also yearn to sell it. Sometimes, since I am single, I yearn for a relationship and companionship. Ironically, in past relationships, I have yearned to be single again. I think this is nothing more than "the grass is always greener." I digress.

It is the fact that there is melancholy attached to the strong desire that I fine the most interesting. But it is true, I do have some pensiveness and/or sadness attached to the idea of selling my art work. I have to let it go and live its own life away from me so I do mourn a bit when I sell. On the flip side, when I'm not selling, I mourn the lack of money. In creating the art, a similar process takes place. I have a very strong desire to create something "good" and yet, if I don't or suspend the notion of "good", I'm left with the simple act of creating regardless of the impact so my urge goes unsatisfied. I continue to yearn.

At times, I yearn to stop yearning. Fat chance that will happen! I would prefer to focus on the here and now, the process, the act of creating and let the future and goals sort themselves out for themselves. But as hard as I try, I still have some future focus, some desire that is currently going unfulfilled. Maybe that is human nature. Maybe it is okay to yearn, knowing that if/when my desire is fulfilled, things will change and that is where the sadness comes in, mourning what was while embracing what can or will be. I feel like I'm making this more complex than it is. Basically, in order for me to get something, I have to let go of something else first. In that context, yearning may not be so bad after all. And, it really may be the right description for creating something new or letting something go.

I just noticed that I have resin all over my leg. I yearn to be clean so I have to go wash my leg.

Go Deep

This past week in attempting to live Bruce Mau's "Incomplete Manifesto for Growth" I focused on going deep, namely,



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



After a week of contemplation and mediation on this recommendation, I have no clue what it means or how to apply it. It sounds like a good idea but may be too esoteric to be practical. It hits me as a saying I would find in a fortune cookie instead of good advice.



I struggled with this one. I thought maybe it referred to my emotional state when I was

I Feel Stagnate, True or False?

I have started hanging me art work on my own walls. I always have but now I'm doing more as I am running out of space to store the unsold work. Ironically, I'm procrastinating in selling. Part of me views my current work as experimental and not yet good enough for public display much less to sell. At the same time, I know the quality of many of my pieces is very high and usually elicits a response from viewers. I'm floating in the sea of lack of confidence. Until I change that, I suspect my work will not sell well from the mere fact that I probably do not give my work the recognition it deserves.

I have seen this manifest itself in many ways over the past few months, procrastination, lethargy, self sabotage, avoidance, excuses and even in a few cases, straight you refusal to do more. The only true answer is that at the moment, I feel vulnerable. I am in the transition phase where I am no longer a office going corporate guy but I'm not fully the self supporting artist as well. To push forward will require another leap of faith, jumping off the cliff into the world of retail, be it galleries, on-line or other avenues to sell my work. I think I may have been waiting for someone to give me a little shove but honestly I don't want that. I want to stand up and take a step, any step. I want to break the stagnation that I feel.

Reality is however that I'm not stagnate, not even close. I keep myself busy (most days) and I work at creating new pieces, finishing up old ones, and slowly enter in the world of eBay. So, if I'm doing things in, what I feel is, the right direction, why do I have this nagging feeling of being stagnate? Impatience is a possible culprit. And the impatience may also be coupled with that fact that I know I can do more. I'm having problems adjusting my daily schedule and maintaining a high level of energy to do more. So I want things to change rapidly, but the more rapid things change, the more energy I expel to keep my balance. I wonder what would happen if I give a big push and allow myself to fall down. Falling down isn't all the bad. I'll surround myself with soft pillows so I won't get hurt.

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."

Do Something

"You can't do anything about the length of your life, but you can do something about its width and depth." - Shira Tehrani