Arrival

This piece was inspired by something I read in "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron.

Remember that art is process. The process is supposed to be fun. For our purposes, “the journey is always the only arrival” may be interpreted to mean that our creative work is actually our creativity itself at play in the field of time.

(Cameron, Julia (2002-03-04). The Artist's Way. Penguin Group US.)

And then there was this on Danny Gregory's blog:

Because being an artist is a cause you choose for yourself, the rewards are in the journey, and there is no Promised Land. You have to want to proclaim your vision, to broadcast your voice, to change the world. The finish line doesn’t lie at the doors of the Whitney Biennial, it lies at the grave. Every day is a lesson and a revelation and they follow one after the other to the horizon, providing their own reward.

I was also listening to Switchfoot's song Thrive, where this lyric struck me:

Feel like I travel but I never arrive. I want to thrive not just survive.

Perhaps if you have a divine discontent, a restlessness of the soul, you can relate. I need to constantly remind myself that it's not only about the future, the end result. When the dream is attained. But I need to enjoy the NOW, the journey, even though I know I am undone. So today, I create again. I start the cycle again. And when Today comes to a close, Tomorrow brings a fresh start. And I must begin again. Every day when I awake I am back to zero. It doesn't matter what I did yesterday. The act of creating helps me live in the moment. So, I must keep creating. I want to THRIVE, not just survive.

The pen is mightier than the... pencil?

Back in April, I picked up a book by Danny Gregory called "The Creative License". This was a huge step in reintroducing me to a drawing habit. One of the things he encouraged in his book was to use a pen not a pencil. Why? Because when using a pencil, we have a tendency to make less confident lines, and erase again and again. That coupled with a perfectionist streak can spell trouble for a completed work ever seeing the light of day.

So I took the challenge. At first it was awkward. I wanted to redo some lines and strokes, but had to learn to live with the lines I had made. I had to learn how to make mistakes a part of the beauty of the work. Pen has taught me to make a more confident line. I had poked perfectionism in the eye.

The funny thing is, when i returned to pencil recently, there was less erasing and fretting. Less giving perfectionism a foothold. More confidence.

Back in the day when I first started learning to play guitar, I had an old Yamaha acoustic guitar that had a tree trunk for a neck. At least that's what it felt like. I struggled and filleted my fingers until I had my chord changes down. Over time, I got used to it. And when I got an electric guitar, I marveled at how smooth and easy it was to fret my chords.

Sometimes we need to push ourselves to embrace difficulty, discomfort or resistance. You just might be amazed how it impacts your growth.

Beautiful Mess

I read these words tonight on Danny Gregory's blog, and it resonated. How about you?

Organization is irrelevant to making stuff. Art needs to be messy. A neat stall is the sign of a dead horse.

The more responsible side of me wants to make sure I can contain my art and process, and not get too dirty in the process. Sanitize it. But there can be (and should be) beauty in mess. Here's to more art birthed in mud and mire.

{photo credit}

365 Days of Drawings & Paintings

 

I had this internal prompting that was calling me to create more art. Not the graphic design work that was part of my full-time employment, but rather a getting back to my roots, tactile experience of handling some art supplies that I hadn't interacted with in many, many years.

It started when, on a whim, I took a printmaking class at a local art center. While attending this 3 week course, I was turned onto a book called "The Creative License" by Danny Gregory. Little did I know this would stoke the internal creative fires within, that were dormant for far too long.

I decided to try my hand at 365 days of drawings and painting. Danny Gregory wrote "a five minute drawing is better than none". Somehow these words were liberating. Surely I could manage five minutes.

I was off and running. It was forced and awkward at first. But I leaned in. Rarely missed a day and when i did, i did two to catch up. I kept going. At first, filling pages and pages of my Moleskine sketchbooks, then branching out to individual pieces as my confidence grew.

Early on I decided to post my daily work on Instagram (and later Facebook) as a way of keeping accountable, and even posting the work that was in my opinion, sub par. It wasn't about creating "masterpieces". I wouldn't let that perfectionist voice discourage me from keeping on my journey.

Today, is one year. 365 days of at least one drawing or painting. Beyond the work itself, this journey has changed me. It has given me more confidence in creating and sharing my art. It has helped me identify tools I like to work with, and what my style is. It has challenged me in ways I'm not sure I can really express.

It has awakened a hunger and passion that doesn't show any signs of stopping. I want to keep learning, creating, sharing... What lies ahead? I don't know. But as I keep taking the right next step, It's a step more into being who I was created to be.

Want to know what 365 days of drawing and painting look like? Visit here.