Tag Archives: art

Getting it up

The thing about creativity is that unless you make a living practicing your art, it’s easy to deprioritize it. (Note: WordPress is saying deprioritize isn’t a word, but I’m sticking to it because WordPress also says that WordPress isn’t a word.)

On the to-do list you might not even have had time to write today, “make something awesome” would likely fall somewhere near the bottom, after “drop off the kids-prescription-dry cleaning-car,” “write the report,” “attend the meeting,” “reassure the boss,” “pick up the the kids-prescription-dry cleaning-car,” “do the laundry” “pay the bills,” “cook, clean, cry, collapse.”

It’s a perfectly understandable, soul-killing decision to NOT make something awesome. But as day after day passes in this frenzied “I have no time for creative badassery” mode, the muscle that creates your art – your wicked imagination – atrophies. It gets harder and harder to get it up.

So to speak.

I don’t want that to happen to you (or me), so I made a list of five ways to sneak back up on our creative natures. These ideas are small, but powerful… like Altoids.

  1. Unplug.
    Even if only for a few minutes each day, unplug your phone, your computer, your TV, your radio, and every device you have that starts with a lower case “i.” Immerse yourself in your physical surroundings. If at all possible, get dirty.
    *
  2. Take a picture.
    I seriously think cameras are magical in their ability to change our perspectives. Don’t believe me? Look at Marcie Scudder’s rainy day, Jen Erbe’s birches, jb’s kitchen table, my picture of stillness…
    *

    And – bonus! – the “make something awesome” goal is built right into this one!
    *
  3. Do something out of character.
    Wear a kilt or a tutu (or, for me, something purple). Publicly display your affection, throw yourself a surprise party, tell someone in no uncertain terms that what they do makes your knees weak, your head spin, your throat dry… and even with all that, you hope they never, ever stop.
    *
  4. Play.
    Alone or with your lover, your crush, your best friend, your kid, your parents, a perfect (or not-so-perfect) stranger. Do something, anything. Just. For. Fun.
    *
  5. Fuck should.
    For a day, an afternoon, an amazing hour of precious freedom, don’t do anything just because you should.

It may be that the awesome thing you make… is you.

xo

What we mean when we talk about art

For a long time, I considered fiction my art. My essays, articles, interviews, book reviews and blog posts were something else. Writing, but not art.

Then I read a post by Tara Mohr. It was a great post that, unfortunately, I can’t find now, but it talked about how she left the corporate world to pursue “her art,” and it was clear that she was talking about everything she does now, all the writing, speaking and teaching women to play big and believe in themselves.

I remember being struck by the phrase. Tara’s book is called 10 Rules for Brilliant Women and while I think any book that attempts to teach women how to own (and wield) their brilliance is important and worthy… is it art?

Not long after reading Tara’s piece, I read this from Stephen Elliott in the Daily Rumpus. “We were talking yesterday about how there are artists in every medium,” he said. “You can be an artist and a cook, an artist and a small business owner.” He mused that the definition may lie in what you’re trying to do and why, whether you’re out for a paycheck or genuinely trying to create something good, something meaningful.

And then I read this from Seth Godin:

Art is a uniquely human endeavor, and act of genius. Art is what we do when we do something for the first time, do it uniquely, and do it to touch someone else. The generosity is built into the act. Painting might be art, pottery might be art, customer service might be art–but none of them are art if all you’re doing is commerce, or phoning it in, or following a manual or a map.

Art is where we expose ourselves, because in addition to being human, we really have no choice but to accept failure. And it’s failure (or the potential for failure) that creates art. When we talk about emulating the bodhisattva, we accept the risk that maybe we won’t touch anyone, won’t shed any light, won’t make a difference.

The only way to do art, real art, is to embrace that risk. To do less is to hide.

That is beautiful and rings true to me. In her most recent column, Sugar at the Rumpus said, “I’ve written [the Dear Sugar column] as a body of work in a way more akin to a novel or memoir than a years-long Q & A. There’s a beginning, middle and end.” I agree completely , and there is no doubt in my mind that what Sugar has created is art.

As my notion of what constitutes art changes and expands, I find myself contemplating other questions. Is everyone who blogs “a writer,” everyone who paints “an artist,” everyone who takes pictures “a photographer”? Do the titles mean anything objective? Should they?

I’m drawn to the idea of art being about more than the finished product. I like definitions that include intent and meaning. Is my reluctance to call everyone who writes poetry “a poet” reflexive, or do we owe it to the poets who have studied and read and honed their craft not to place just anyone in their ranks?

What do you think? What constitutes art to you?

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Some odds and ends…

First of all, I can’t thank you enough for your support and comments and enthusiasm over the launch of A Human Thing. If I’d scripted the day myself, I would not have written it as wonderful as you all made it. My gratitude knows no bounds.

If you haven’t actually watched the video I made, I hope you will. I’m proud of it, and it was, like everything on the new site, a collaboration. Lots of talent and love went into its making.

Finally, my review of Deborah Jiang Stein’s new memoir, Even Tough Girls Wear Tutus, is up at Used Furniture Review. Go see!

xo

I do so love the word “begets”

Not long ago, I was talking to a writer friend who hasn’t been writing. She’s had a lot going on, inside and out, and it’s been hard for her to find that place inside,  where it’s both quiet and humming, dreamy and focused, wild and disciplined… that place where the artist and the art beautifully, magically collide.

I understand. I’ve been there too. It’s like living on the perimeter of your soul. She said that she was thinking of trying something completely different: painting. She’d always been interested in it but never pursued it because she didn’t think she was good enough, and so… maybe now…

I dropped everything to reply:

Yes!

I think it’s so important for us to indulge our creativity – even when the project that pulls us isn’t part of our plan, even when it won’t make us money, even when it feels frivolous and beside the point. In fact, especially when it feels frivolous and beside the point.

I love ill-advised creativity, the kind we don’t really expect to be good at. When you do something creative outside your field, it’s like giving yourself permission to be an absolute beginner. You can mess up, challenge conventional wisdom (because… well, hell, you don’t even know what the conventional wisdom is). It’s hard for a writer to let herself write crap, but it’s not that hard for a writer to sculpt or paint or photograph crap.

When you indulge your creativity outside your field(s) of expertise, you invite a sense of play. Less attached to the result, you can open to the experience – the crazy firing synapses, the giddy newness, the FUN. I told my friend that I have that sense of adventure every time I take my camera out into the world. Talk about not being attached to the result, I’m delighted when my subject actually appears in the frame.

And here’s the really wonderful part. Much as love begets love, creativity (of all kinds) begets creativity. I think if my friend starts painting, those first beautiful, timid, exhilarating brush strokes may also be her first beautiful, timid, exhilarting steps back to her writing.

(Wonderfully) out of my element

Remember when I said I was going to create Song Lyric Wall Art? Well, here’s the thing about that. I wanted to do it for the sheer, unmitigated, be-a-beginner-create-without-expectation-look-what-I-made magic of it. But because I’m not a crafty person (please don’t argue, I know crafty people, I am not one), I knew the only way I’d actually follow through and create something was to tell you I would.

Oh, the power you all have!

And it worked (as it almost always does). I did it, and it was ridiculously fun to be so out of my element. I can’t do that with writing. I’m never completely relaxed and unattached to the outcome when I write. It’s too much where I live; I have too many expectations of myself. But paint and stickers and artist tape?

Nothing. But. Fun.

Here’s the piece I found at a secondhand store. I admit that I fell for it instantly and almost didn’t buy it because I knew I’d be reluctant to paint over it. But then the guy behind the counter said I could have the picture for 25% off, and I took it as a sign.

I decided that I so loved the newspaper, coffee and rose in the picture, that I’d tape them off so that they’d still be in the final piece. Somehow that made the painting over part easier too, as if the original artist and I were collaborating.

Here’s how it looked during taping. Before I painted over it, I taped off the rest of the paper, and the window frame. I’d originally had a different lyric in mind, but with the coffee and the paper, I switched to Ingrid Michaelson’s “The Way I Am.”

About six coats of spray paint later, I peeled away the first letter…

And here’s the final product, which makes me unabashedly “little-kid-hey-look-what-I-did” giddy.

My friends Caroline and Pam did the project with me (together apart) and they sent me pictures of their masterpieces too. They are especially noteworthy and cool because…

Caroline painted a blank canvas to get her colors…

… and Pam painted the penguins in a paint-by-number kit.

If you decide to try it (and I highly recommend you do), please send me pictures! Thank you Caroline and Pam for playing with me! xoxo

~~~~~~~~~~

In other news… I’m excited to be participating in the October 28th launch of Andrea Lewicki’s very cool Curiosity Project. Andrea is beautiful, inspiring and truly amazing. Read about her here (and try not to feel like a slacker). Her mission – to get us all to engage, indulge and follow our curiosity – is so damn affirming it makes my cells hum. In her words…

Curiosity is vital…to our well-being, to the sense of satisfaction we all crave, to the love we give and receive, and to the quality of the connections we make with other people. Curiosity is a way to engage with the world but it’s not obvious how to use it. That’s where my work starts.

She invited me to participate in her launch party, and after my initial “holy shit she wants me to go on camera live” reaction, I said yes. How could I not? She wants to ask me about the role that curiosity plays in love! I have tons to say on that subject.

Stay tuned… I’ll be posting more information as we near Andrea’s launch date.

Five Very Cool Friday Things

It’s Friday, and I wish every week could be like this past one. I hope your week has been good to you too, but if it hasn’t, come in, sit down, have a cup of whatever you like best and relax. I have stuff to make you smile.

  1. I love, love,  love One Sentence. It astonishes me how entertaining (and funny and poignant) these one-sentence stories are! I’m committing here and now to submit a story to them before June is over!
  2. The 3 Most Common Uses of Irony made me laugh. It will make you laugh. (Click! There are cartoons!)
  3. This music video delights me. I like everything about it.
  4. Three in one. I am in love with this bold, beautiful blog, which recently featured this inspiring story, about this project. I believe people like these change the world. (I aspire to be a person like these.)
  5. And finally, last week, my friend said she was feeling sad and stuck, and I realized so was I. In a moment of inspired responsibility-shirking, we set aside our work, packed lunches and her five-year-old wonder-boy into the car and had a picnic by a pond. There were a bunch of things I should have been doing that day, but there was this moment on the edge of that pond, the three of us squatting, looking for frogs and whispering conspiratorially, when I felt the tension go right out of me… Better than yoga. In the event that you can’t simply sneak away to a pond today, I’ll share some of our day with you.

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One Half Of A Secret Handshake

I’m reading Michael Chabon’s Manhood for Amateurs, which, of course, I’m loving. I’ll have more to say about it when I finish, but I wanted to share this, because it’s stuck with me since I read it in the first few pages of the book. It’s from the essay, “The Losers Club”:

Every work of art is one half of a secret handshake, a challenge that seeks the password, a heliograph flashed from a tower window, an act of hopeless optimism in the service of bottomless longing.

An act of hopeless optimism in the service of bottomless longing. I love that. When I decided to write a novel, that’s what it was. I knew the odds were against me getting published from the start. I’ve written a quirky literary novel about love and family and mental illness. There are no vampires, no zombies, no secret incriminating documents, no only a few steamy sex scenes. I wrote it anyway. And now I’m revising it, anyway. My act of hopeless optimism.

And here’s what I think. The world needs more of this particular brand of crazy. The naysayers will always be here, telling us to be careful, to stop, to consider all the valid reasons not to leap. The cynics are everywhere, and they’re noisy. My favorite professor once said to me after one of my stories was rejected, “Fuck the naysayers, j. Don’t let them turn you around.” It was good advice. I have it posted on the bulletin board above my desk.

I guess what I’m trying to say is this: I’d rather be engaged in an act of hopeless optimism than standing on the sidelines, telling people braver than I am to be careful, to stop, to consider. I’d rather leap and fall, believing my net will appear.

It’s Easy

I lied. The word today is one of the ones I said I wouldn’t do, but it’s been on my mind all week for a lot of reasons. And that’s okay… because, of course, it’s all you need.

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And now for something completely different… I have a couple of pieces published elsewhere I’d like to share (for anyone who doesn’t follow me on Twitter (hi, mom!)… The first is my latest Vagina Monologues update and the second is something totally different called “Invisible.”

Don’t forget to…

This post comes after two really tough weeks for me, and then one nearly perfect, laid back weekend. It’s my advice to myself for the week ahead. Breathe. The rest will work itself out.

Secret Alphabet

Thank you to my friend, Tana Butler, for coming up with the name of this post. (She didn’t know that’s what she was doing when she coined the phrase, but I love it, so I’m stealing it. I figure if I say thank you, it’s all good.)

So, I decided I wouldn’t write LOVE, PEACE, JOY or HOPE because that’s just what you’d expect me to write for a project like this. (I try not to be too predictable.) So today’s word… it’s a verb that frankly does not happen nearly enough. ;-)

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And now for something compeltely different… I like the website, Unhappy Hipsters, as much for the weirdness of the idea as for its clever execution. It “pairs photographs of attractive people living in modern splendor with captions written from the perspective that its subjects are actually suffering from some sort of existential despair.” It‘s funny, if you’re a little warped like I am. ;-)

A new word

I’m really excited about my February Blog project. A couple of weeks ago, I went to Santa Cruz – a beautiful coastal town near me – and in one of the shops I saw these wonderful photographs…

I loved these! Not because of the words that were spelled, although there is nothing wrong with the words, but because they stirred my imagination. I am not a visual artist at all. I think in words. I read books and revel in the language, listen to music and lose myself in lyrics, watch movies and obsess over the dialogue. I love the idea of creating words out of the details of my world. As soon as I saw these, I thought, “I want to do that!”

So I did. I ventured out on Saturday, and I looked for letters in the branches of trees, in the angles of architecture, in the geometry of household things. My first word was easy to pick. It was the theme of 2009 for me; it is my command to myself for the future, my goal, my constant inner chant.

I had so much fun doing this, wandering aimlessly, soaking up the California sunshine, moving (uncharacteristically) slowly because that’s what the project demands. Like my Beckoning the Lovely project, this one will force allow me to do something creative and out of my normal routine every week, and – bonus – I’ll be stopping to take notice of where I am, right now.

So here we go. Every Monday in February. A new word. It’ll be fun.