Me too. I love to read artist interviews and journals for that reason. I would have never looked twice at an Ann Truitt sculpture if it were not for her wonderful writings. I still don’t like them much, but I have a new appreciaiton for them.

“I leave room in my process to fail a lot, and I cull a lot as a result. This is often how I find the compelling new road that I then follow with a measure of discipline.”

I love that! I also love the word cull:
According to Merriam Webster online
1 : to select from a group : CHOOSE
2 : to reduce or control the size of (as a herd) by removal (as by hunting) of especially weaker animals; also : to hunt or kill (animals) as a means of population control

Both definitions are interesting although the second is a bit Darwinian. But maybe ruthlessness is required in weeding out the “weak” images, ideas, etc. I will use this idea of culling to further try to talk to my students about this process. While I do not want them to edit themselves prematurely (this leads to what I call artistic constipation), I do want them to develop a critical eye for what comes out (after it is out). My challenge has been how to encourage them to make the mistakes, churn through the work and disappointment of that and get to the other side.

Are the failures and accidents and spirit of experimentation more inevitable in photography than other media in which the hand can so carefully control? I try to “trick” my students into letting go of that control…

I’d like to hear your thoughts about the “measure of discipline” that follows. What does that look like in your process?

This is a 21st century version of the Chain letter, but I didn’t resist it — the nomination is on Thursday’s southeastmain

I’m intrigued by your comment about deliberate ambiguity and disorganized confusion. With students, that’s a particularly important distinction. However, like David, I think on a ‘higher” level it might be false — what is ambiguous to one viewer may be quite clear to another. It is there that serendipity comes into play. When your art works on many levels, there are perhaps other levels that you can’t explain. They may be the levels that someone else, who thinks and looks with care, can make sense of.

The difficulty, of course, is to make sure the organization works on enough levels that it doesn’t feel like a disorganized mess. And knowing the difference between a mess and a truly wonderful chaos.

Accident — David has it. And Culling. Which is what you were trying to get students to comprehend.

As usual, I’m interested in the interplay between viewer and artist and the work itself — that’s where riches lie for me.

It’s one reason why reading I always read Birgit carefully.

Accident is my friend. I depend upon it to create my most compelling images. The point is to recognize that you’re letting into your process a degree of uncontrollability, but that you manage it. Incoherant results are not the end result, because there is an editor at work who is judging the aftermath. I leave room in my process to fail a lot, and I cull a lot as a result. This is often how I find the compelling new road that I then follow with a measure of discipline.

What I feel, so far, is the rhythm and dancing. Perfect for San Louis, notable for its jazz.