This past week I was trying to incorporate "Study. A studio is a place of study. Use the necessity of production as an excuse to study. Everyone will benefit," another suggestion from Bruce Mau's "Incomplete Manifesto for Growth." At first, and for most of the week, I had no idea what this was about, what it meant, what it was leading to or how to apply it. That all changed this morning.
This morning during my daily painting time (I set aside several hours everyday to paint regardless of what else is going on that day) I was trying to determine what I was going to work on and how to approach it. Over the past several weeks, mainly due to several fortuitous accidents, I have developed another process yielding a twist in my style. But the process is still immature but is still showing a lot of potential. That being said, I wanted to try the process again with a few minor changes and see what would happen. More experimentation.
That's when it hit me. With each experiment I conducted, I was looking for the similarities and differences between the previous works and the current one using the same or similar process. I was "studying" the results, that is to say, I was noting how changing the process affected the final work. I was hung up on my definition of studying from school which was nothing more the repitition and memorization. Studying is more. It is exploration, examination, experimentation, documentation and playing.
Like many of the previous suggestions from the "Incomplete Manifesto" I explored, I think there is a necessity to suspend current prejudice and eliminate (or at least reduce) the my propensity to focus on the final outcome. If I look to the end, I miss the differences and the similarities. I am unable to study. It makes me question my education where I spent my time cramming just to receive a good grade. Learning was not part of studying past. Achievement was. Achievement is not studying.
As a result of this morning, I have started a notebook where I am documenting my observations of working with resin. It reminds me of my lab book in graduate school. In fact, now I see my studio as a laboratory, not a place of production.
The other benefit that I notice is that again, this helps pull me back into living the moment and not focus on the future. I'm beginning to see the pattern in the "Incomplete Manifesto." I'll have to study it further.
This week, I will be examining the next suggestion which is "Drift. Allow yourself to wander aimlessly. Explore adjacencies. Lack judgment. Postpone criticism."
Monday, August 4, 2008
Friday, August 1, 2008
73 Things To Do
My neighbor across the alley had a party on their patio last night until 2am. One of the women had one of those voices that can be heard across town even when she uses her "indoor voice." That is to say, they were loud. I'm sluggish and tired today as a result. I need my 7.5-8 hours of sleep a night. Given how slow I'm working it may be beneficial for me to take a nap and then get back to work. I use to do it when I worked a corporate job. Well, I napped with my eyes open so it isn't quite like sleeping, more like suspended animation.
I didn't paint today. I've been doing a lot of odds and ends that just never seem to get done. Not a whole lot of enjoyment or satisfaction except now they are done and I can start a new pile of things I prefer not to do. I have a busy weekend coming up followed by a busy week. When I had the office job, I often thought that I would have more free time when I was an artist full time. I grossly underestimated all the little things that go along with trying to get exposure and show my work. I'm still stumbling to put efficient processes in place so they no longer feel like chores. I'm still thinking some sort of schedule or dedicated time will work. I just have to follow the schedule I set to do all those things I prefer not to, or find someone to do them for me.
All of this brings me to self accountability. It isn't as easy as it looks on TV. There are distractions and personal desires, procrastinations and other things that can easily bump me off course in spite of me good intentions when I wake up. In fact, every morning, I am sure that today is the day that I do this and that and the other with nearly military precision. Not so much. With morning email comes a game or two on Facebook. The load of laundry starts up and so do the dishes. If I didn't shower after my run , I better take care of that and before I realize it, it is lunch time. When I had an office job, I was amazed by how long the day was. Now I'm amazed by how short it is.
So as not to beat myself up for not being a robot working away everyday, I have the goal of accomplishing one thing on my to-do-list. It doesn't sound like much but believe me, one painting a day translates to 5 a week, 20 a month. That type of production is great. Or perhaps the goal is to update the website, or the store, contact a few artist representatives or whatever. The point is it all doesn't have to be done today. Some today, some tomorrow, some the day after that. I think this goes back to something I've written about before, the process. I want to enjoy the process of building a small business. I don't want to miss it by working myself into the ground. Besides, if I finish 10 things today, I know there will be 10 new things tomorrow to do. It never ends. The goal is never reached. The goal will change while I sleep tonight and always be just out of reach. I'm okay with coming close to the goal, or at least for know I am. Perhaps I'll think differently come winter and I'm house bound.
I didn't paint today. I've been doing a lot of odds and ends that just never seem to get done. Not a whole lot of enjoyment or satisfaction except now they are done and I can start a new pile of things I prefer not to do. I have a busy weekend coming up followed by a busy week. When I had the office job, I often thought that I would have more free time when I was an artist full time. I grossly underestimated all the little things that go along with trying to get exposure and show my work. I'm still stumbling to put efficient processes in place so they no longer feel like chores. I'm still thinking some sort of schedule or dedicated time will work. I just have to follow the schedule I set to do all those things I prefer not to, or find someone to do them for me.
All of this brings me to self accountability. It isn't as easy as it looks on TV. There are distractions and personal desires, procrastinations and other things that can easily bump me off course in spite of me good intentions when I wake up. In fact, every morning, I am sure that today is the day that I do this and that and the other with nearly military precision. Not so much. With morning email comes a game or two on Facebook. The load of laundry starts up and so do the dishes. If I didn't shower after my run , I better take care of that and before I realize it, it is lunch time. When I had an office job, I was amazed by how long the day was. Now I'm amazed by how short it is.
So as not to beat myself up for not being a robot working away everyday, I have the goal of accomplishing one thing on my to-do-list. It doesn't sound like much but believe me, one painting a day translates to 5 a week, 20 a month. That type of production is great. Or perhaps the goal is to update the website, or the store, contact a few artist representatives or whatever. The point is it all doesn't have to be done today. Some today, some tomorrow, some the day after that. I think this goes back to something I've written about before, the process. I want to enjoy the process of building a small business. I don't want to miss it by working myself into the ground. Besides, if I finish 10 things today, I know there will be 10 new things tomorrow to do. It never ends. The goal is never reached. The goal will change while I sleep tonight and always be just out of reach. I'm okay with coming close to the goal, or at least for know I am. Perhaps I'll think differently come winter and I'm house bound.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
How Much Does It Cost? Part II
On this very warm day in Chicago, I decided I had to get out of the house. I completed a painting today and realized that administrative tasks had been piling up. So I grabbed my laptop and now I'm working in a cafe in the Andersonville neighborhood, one of my favorite parts of town.
All of this is of course procrastination of the real task at hand today, pricing the work from my latest series. I've been avoiding it. In the past at least, I priced paintings without commitment. That is to say, the prices changed. Hard to run a business or sell when then prices are a moving target. In addition, I have heard from a number of different sources that my past pricing is too low for the quality of work I'm producing. And this takes me back to something I have written about before, art versus product.
I was thinking that my art needs to be priced to sell, what the market will support. This is Econ 101. It also assumes that my art is a product, not a commodity. As a commodity, everything changes. What is the price that I am willing to let go of an original is now the question. In fact, a good friend suggested that I price my work "as if I didn't need the money." That is quite a concept given the fear of becoming the stereotypical starving artist. Ironically, I'm not starving and there is no sign of that in sight so the fear is completely unfounded. I think my friend's advice has merit. A lot of merit.
The other thing that was pointed out to me, which I think is a common trap for emerging artists, is pricing based on size. This is one of the cases where "sizes doesn't matter." (I'm referring to art work size.) What matters is the plethora of variables such as the complexity, the amount of work it took, the quality of technical execution, the quality of the emotional impact, the message, etc. Few of these are "product" orientated. These are visceral. This is why art is a commodity.
Since I create without worrying about selling (most of the time) but focus on expressing myself honestly and in an individualistic manner (I try to at least), the pricing should follow suit. The pricing should be based on how well I expressed myself. Just as when I speak, I don't know if anyone will listen, the same is true for my art. Just because I painted doesn't mean anyone is going to "buy" it. But I believe people like honest dialogue. Selling comes back to honest expression, just as creating. This has been a difficult concept for my to digest. I am amazed by the influence the culture of commercialism has had on me. For a successful pricing scheme, I feel the need to step outside of that influence and determine the price of my expression, not of the art product.
Basically, if you want a piece of me, i.e. my expression, it is going to cost you this day forward. ;-)
All of this is of course procrastination of the real task at hand today, pricing the work from my latest series. I've been avoiding it. In the past at least, I priced paintings without commitment. That is to say, the prices changed. Hard to run a business or sell when then prices are a moving target. In addition, I have heard from a number of different sources that my past pricing is too low for the quality of work I'm producing. And this takes me back to something I have written about before, art versus product.
I was thinking that my art needs to be priced to sell, what the market will support. This is Econ 101. It also assumes that my art is a product, not a commodity. As a commodity, everything changes. What is the price that I am willing to let go of an original is now the question. In fact, a good friend suggested that I price my work "as if I didn't need the money." That is quite a concept given the fear of becoming the stereotypical starving artist. Ironically, I'm not starving and there is no sign of that in sight so the fear is completely unfounded. I think my friend's advice has merit. A lot of merit.
The other thing that was pointed out to me, which I think is a common trap for emerging artists, is pricing based on size. This is one of the cases where "sizes doesn't matter." (I'm referring to art work size.) What matters is the plethora of variables such as the complexity, the amount of work it took, the quality of technical execution, the quality of the emotional impact, the message, etc. Few of these are "product" orientated. These are visceral. This is why art is a commodity.
Since I create without worrying about selling (most of the time) but focus on expressing myself honestly and in an individualistic manner (I try to at least), the pricing should follow suit. The pricing should be based on how well I expressed myself. Just as when I speak, I don't know if anyone will listen, the same is true for my art. Just because I painted doesn't mean anyone is going to "buy" it. But I believe people like honest dialogue. Selling comes back to honest expression, just as creating. This has been a difficult concept for my to digest. I am amazed by the influence the culture of commercialism has had on me. For a successful pricing scheme, I feel the need to step outside of that influence and determine the price of my expression, not of the art product.
Basically, if you want a piece of me, i.e. my expression, it is going to cost you this day forward. ;-)
Monday, July 28, 2008
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.
"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.
Friday, July 25, 2008
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 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.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, July 21, 2008
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
"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
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