Part I: The Calm Before the Storm
Madeline Island is one of 21 Apostle Islands in Lake Superior. This was my view arriving by ferry:
When I arrived at the Madeline Island School of the Arts, I gave myself time to be still and take in the vista from my window. In the mornings I could hear the loud, resonant wooden rattle of the Sandhill Cranes calling. I brought a couple books with me– including World Enough & Time by Christian McEwan. I was struck by this quote from Kafka:
Wherever You Are, You Can Create Temenos
Temenos, meaning sacred space, comes from the Greek, and refers back to place that is a sanctuary in the natural world. When I teach for just two days at our local art store, the natural world is far away. How can I create a venerated space in a classroom at the back of an art store?
Ordinary Magic
"The true voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having fresh eyes." -Proust
I have been reading World Enough & Time by Christian McEwen. She interviews the Scots poet, Thomas Clark. She asks him his advice on homework for her students that are aspiring poets. His answer was not what she expected, and applies to any of us who wish to make room for whatever it is we are reaching for:
On "Painting to Win"
Yesterday I went on a road trip with a friend to Lexington to deliver some work to our gallery. We talked about things that are particular to those who wrestle with canvas or paper. Regarding the various obstacles that can show up when painting, he said: "Paint to win, don't paint in order not to lose." I had to think about that– my first impression was that "painting to win" was somehow tied to pleasing the crowd, which is always a loss to the soul. As our conversation continued, I realized that he meant something more like: be bold, paint like you mean it. This is the opposite of being timid or careful, or trying to do what is best for the market.
A Week of Losing Everything
Today I waited in line at the Apple store, wondering about the mysterious backup that removed everything after 2012 off my laptop. Even the team at the Genius Bar was having a hard time sorting it out.
I stood behind a young man wearing the shirt you see in the picture. I am not sure I have interpreted it as he means it. Does it mean we are to fulfill the mandate: "It's all about" 24/7, 365– staying connected all the time? Or is it that big capital B meaning “It’s all about Be, being?”.
Spell Breaker
There are good spells and bad spells in the creative pattern. Lately it has been more of the latter. Even though I accept the "bad" spells, which are essential to breaking through to new ground, I am impatient. I decided to visit my friend Rodney Hatfield, and see his paintings before they were shipped off to Santa Fe. I was feeling discouraged with how long it sometimes takes to make even one painting I am happy with. Rodney has a stool at one end of his studio, next to which is a pile of scraps of paper– brown paper bags, poster paper, old photo paper etc. There are brushes, gesso and paint on the floor next to his stool. There is a hand written sign on the wall that says: "Shut up and paint", reminding him not to think too much.
"It's an audition each time." B. B. King
B B King died this week. In an earlier interview, Terry Gross asked him (he was in his 70's at the time) about getting nervous before each performance. King replied:
"It's an audition each time...(I remind myself that) I'm never any better than my last concert."
I found this confession comforting, as I have wondered over the years at my persistence in having nervous anticipation before each class I teach. I have come to realize that this is how I prepare; by continuously walking over the line of what I have done before, or what I know. I like to imagine that B. B. King and I are aligned in an uncertainty about the work we are doing– and that this doubt keeps the music, the teaching, the painting, and hopefully, the audience, alive.
The Eggs are in the Nest
Before the robin's nest had these three eggs, it was empty. When the nest was empty I felt disheartened– I don't have any ideas for these paintings, or when I do, I don't like them! My mind was busy struggling with the notion of creating a clearing, of making myself an empty vessel. I painted over everything I had done. All the surfaces were once again white.
How important is it for art to reach the masses?
This title, How important is it for art to reach the masses?, came from a friend after we had gone to hear a talk by a famous artist. This was the question he would have asked the speaker, who spent much of the talk stating statistics on how many thousand people saw his various exhibits. The talk was largely about numbers, places his work was in, and where his work wasn't that he wished it was. The freshness of the moment was lost in looking back and wanting to capture an earlier time. It communicated more of a feeling of desperation than inspiration. It made me think about the nature of speaking on one's own "retrospective".
Diving into the Wreck
Diving into the wreck is from a poem by Adrienne Rich. I find diving a necessary, and often inconvenient, part of being a maker.
For example, right now I am in the middle of big paintings, medium-sized paintings and small paintings, and various sketchbook studies. Everything is out: Watercolor, acrylics, ink, house paint, and oils. I have dreams of swimming laps with layers and layers of clothes on, and how slow and heavy it feels! There are moments of illumination in my studio, but I am burdened with all these unnecessary and heavy clothes. My dream illuminates those familiar mind struggles: This isn't working! What about some cadmium red? Is this finished? Shall I change my vocation? What about becoming a private eye?