Sunil‘s post Art, life: Separate or unified? raised the issue of whether an artist should try to be an artist all of the time. I commented that doing art requires intense observation and sensitivity — which is obvious. What is less obvious is that observation coupled with sensitivity are another way of saying “emotional reactivity.” That is, an insignificant input — the curve of a leaf — can cause a disproportionately large emotional output (that looks beautiful!!!!!) which, coupled with the act of painting, allows the artist to make the brushstroke that the moment requires.
Emotional reactivity is essential for making art, but out of the art-making process, it can be annoying, disruptive, counter-productive. The soldier and the policeman are trained not to have emotional reactivity, but the artist needs to develop it, harness it. The challenge for the artist it to be able to switch it on and off at the right moments.
There are the simply structural solutions for getting out of the art mode: don’t go to the studio on off-days, turn the pictures to the wall. The psychological solutions are more subtle: don’t think about that difficult painting or series at the wrong moments.
What do you do to take a break from art? Is it easier to get into “art mode” or to get out of it?
So far, I am only getting benefits out of my recent dedication to photography.
A few moments ago, looking at my coffee cup standing on a place mat, I was struck by their interactions – matte and glow, flat and 3-D, olive green and olive green plus other colors.
Karl,
You are spot on about emotional reactivity and it’s appropriate/inappropriateness.
I Think this goes along with concentration and focus; both those can also be hazards when you fail to note the dog-doo on the sidewalk.
I try for a blankness of mind when I need to move out of that space. The blankness acts as a kind of intermediary place that then allows me to come back to the world of connections and relationships and dog-doo.
I live with a man, however, who has enormous trouble switching his concentration off. The entire family has learned to ask a question, wait a few minutes, re-ask it, and then watch as the appropriate light returns to his eyes. He’s able to burn jello because he’s thinking about commas.
Birgit, there is a joy in the matte and glow that only comes from periods of intense concentration or perhaps periods of blankness when you are going the other direction. In fact, Robert Irwin and friends spent a lot of time in the 1970’s in spaces where there was not sensual stimulus — total darkness, total lack of sound, total lack of texture (insofar as that’s possible). What he said when he came out was that the whole world “shimmered;” it was all totally available to him; maddening if one had to live in that state (the scream on the other side of silence) but stunningly wonderful when the occurance comes at the right time.
I haven’t found too much art mode a problem, except for the mild frustration that I can’t always drop what I’m doing and start making photographs. But I feel I gain something from the experience and can often, in principal, come back to it or try to recreate it at a later time.
For me there are various forms of the art mode.
There’s production, when I’m creating a body of work. I’ve got a pretty clear idea of what I’m exploring, and one work leads to the next (though I’ve usually got several going at once). Other ideas and things that I observe in the world get integrated into what I’m already working on.
Then there are the in-between times, like what I’m in right now. These usually happen after a solo show. I take a break from actually producing work, and try to get a sense of what to do next. A lot of reading, looking, journal writing. Maybe doing sketches and taking photographs.
If I want to break out of art mode altogether, the best thing I’ve found is volleyball. You have to be in the moment, and react instantly. If you try to think too much you get hit in the head by the ball.
Loved that line from David “If you try to think too much you get hit in the head by the ball.”
That kind of sums it for me. I revel in the art mode. Try not to think too much,. let the art take me along in its flow – I will know when I am spent – hopefully not for another 40 or 50 years, but who know how much creativity we all have left in us or who knows when we might just get bored…
Right now, I am in the art mode and do not want to take a break.
David,
I’m intrigued by the way you take on very different projects. This description of how you take a pause after a solo show helps me to understand the process. I am most curious to see what you will do next.
Right now, I am in the art mode and do not want to take a break.
Sounds good Sunil! As for getting bored, I don’t think that is something that is likely to happen. It’s a matter of continually searching that keeps it interesting.
I try for a blankness of mind when I need to move out of that space. The blankness acts as a kind of intermediary place that then allows me to come back to the world of connections and relationships and dog-doo.
June,
Blankness of mind is a good approach for returning to the regular world, I agree. For me, realizing the need to make the transition was key to handling it better.
Burnt Jello, that would smell very yucky!
Steve,
Trying to come back at a later time to recreate the experience when it is possible to make art — I’ve had that feeling so many times. Sometimes it is possible to go back. Other times I try to enjoy the moment and let it go.
Birgit,
You are perpetually in art mode!