It was only last year one of my sons turned me on to Ira Glass and This American Life on PBS. When I tell this to people they politely ask which rock I’ve been living under.
Since then I’ve been addicted to the Ira Glass PBS podcasts so imagine my delight when I discovered this video.
If you are not a writer you can exchange his word “story” for whichever acts of art you call home. I believe that everything he shares in this video can be applied to everyone’s creative process.
It’s fast and true for me, how about you?
In this series of posts I am exploring the creative process, mainly in the visual arts but also in writing and music.
I research and listen to a great many artists talking about their work and what goes on in their heads and hearts as they create. I am fascinated by the wide variety of approaches but also by how similar many of those approaches are. For instance one thing I hear again and again is the idea and feeling that the work ‘knows’ what it wants to be and we need only let go of the idea that we are in control to allow fruition.
“You work until you disappear…” phillip guston
I know this completely, through aeons of experience. I understand the initiation rituals of preparation, the getting to know you period, like meeting someone new who you hope will be a friend and reveal worlds yet unseen. In this way I slowly bond with the new work as if it were a sentient being. This is often seen by non artists and more linear artists than me as absurd anthropomorphism. Well, I do what I need to do. I talk to my art which I suppose is akin to talking to myself. It’s been this way for decades and has worked for me.
My blogging community, you, are almost all creative artists in your own particular field. Does what I’ve written ring any bells in you?
I have met and read and listened to artists who approach their work completely differently than me. We have food fights and argue all night but mostly we quote Rumi and drink red wine:
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.
“What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything? If you hear a voice within saying ‘You are not a painter’ then by all means paint – and that voice will be silenced.”
“At present I absolutely want to paint a starry sky. It often seems to me that night is still more richly coloured than the day; having hues of the most intense violets, blues and greens. If only you pay attention to it you will see that certain stars are lemon-yellow, others pink or a green, blue and forget-me-not brilliance. And without my expatiating on this theme it is obvious that putting little white dots on the blue-black is not enough to paint a starry sky.”
As you know I’ve had multiple problems with my site. I believe we’ve got it sorted but with your help this post is a test.
The ‘Happiness Engineers’ at Word Press have been thorough and dedicated helpers. I thank them for their efforts.
To assist us to confirm if we have solved the puzzle I ask you to please ‘Like’ this post and make a comment, just one word is all I need, something to reply to. Thank you.
We need to test the ‘Like’ button and the nesting of your comments and my replies which has been somewhat askew of late 🙂
Your help is appreciated. I’ve learned a lot throughout this process.
Photograph by Clinock
“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in…”
From this heart to all of yours…may your New Year be filled with love, creativity and magic…we build the doors and then we pass through them…
“every heart, every heart / to love will come / but like a refugee…”
“For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We’ll drink a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.”
Photo by clinock
P.S. My new year’s resolution is to remain cheerfully cooperative with the primal flux.
our longest night
the beasts of the earth
and beneath the earth
return the sun
to the queen of light
and all the hands
of the promise of spring
join the dance
Art and poetry by Clinock.
Art: Solstice Dance. 8 x 8 in. ( 20 x 20 cm). Mixed media in cradled panel.