Following on from yesterday, it brings to mind a common reason I have for being discouraged: not knowing where to start when things go wrong. When you have the habit, you’re swimming strongly, maybe you don’t know quite where you’re going, but you’ll know when you get there, and you feel confident. Then something happens, and the feeling that you’re lost comes to the fore.
But the only thing you can do, really, is start again, right where you are. It doesn’t matter where you were, or where you wanted to be. It only matters that you, in the words of the mighty DEVO, “get straight, go forward, move ahead […], it’s not too late”.
Now that I’ve put that song in your head for the foreseeable, go do your daily thing.
Sometimes we get lucky, and a compelling concept drops in our lap from the ether. It’s like the idea knows what it wants to be, and you can hardly keep up with it, knowing where it needs to be shaped next. It’s like magic.
Usually, though, we just have to plow along and chop away at the stone, maybe a rough outline of . . . something. This is why we cultivate discipline. This is why we don’t worry about the day-to-day. In the long run, the self-revealing—and knowing that’s the illusion it is—and the steady hammer can produce a similar figure.
What if I used a song title as the title of every blog post? Probably just confuse everyone, actually.
Having given us all an out for taking a break from our creative stuff yesterday, I have to pull it back in again. It’s time to get back to the habit of doing. It’s way to easy to keep indulging monkey mind and let it go another day, which turns into three, a week, a year.
It’s true, some geniuses blast out a veritable torrent of work all at once, having done nothing for weeks or months. But I’m no genius. You may be, but then, if so, why are you paying attention to me at all? You just need to listen to your inner muse and let your ideas flow into reality to the blueprint of your vision. Most of us, though, are fumbling a bit and trusting that eventually the thing will have a distinct shape.
Starting up, keeping the habit, working steadily toward a finished piece is going to get things done, which is the real goal. Judgment about its worth, evaluating its place in the world—that all should come from others and after something is finished.
For now, you put aside fear for an hour or three and get the mechanism of daily practice (or near as damn it) back on track.
The same old dull routine. It makes you crave a change, tired of the stuff you’ve made that’s become regular, overly familiar. When habit has become tedious, it might be time to let it go for a day.
Change is good, and taking a break from monotonous behavior of any kind can reinvigorate you, re-energize you. It might be a relief to break out of a rigid structure of rules, even when you’re the one who’s set them.
Let the routine go for once, laze around, do nothing, think about a new direction, explore your surroundings. Everything is fodder for a new making. Indulge.
Just don’t go more than a day. Be back to the habit soon to put the new fire into the old coals.
What stops us from our work, from making things, is often fear of the unknown. What if they don’t like it? What if I’m a fraud? What if it sucks?
But that’s our fear’s job. It’s a valuable evolutionary trait and we need it, but not where art is concerned.
When editing and refining, you can consider and revise and judge. Deliberation when you’re working only stops the flow. Trust your habit and your instincts with the blank page, The uncarved block, the white canvas. Gut instinct is just another term for getting out of your own way.
“A little work done is still work done,” said Lynn.
Hakim nodded. He played a full chord and let it ring.
We live in a world that seems to accelerate with alarming regularity. Expectations of delivery and downloads is ever increasing, with every upgrade and iteration.
We can meet that expectation in our work. But there are advantages to going slowly: the pressure is lessened. We can gain perspective as we work, rather than in hindsight.
A daily habit, steady work, will always beat out frenetic flurries that require inspiration to kick them off.
“I can’t draw!” Yes, well, even proficient artists feel like that, at times. There always seems another level to rise to, and never enough practice to get you up there.
Like most things art, though, it’s all about patience and regularity. Practice isn’t a temporary condition for students, it’s a lifetime habit. Whatever you cultivate will yield fruit, and that’s not just for real life stuff, it includes compelling abstract work. But to sidestep frustration with our progress—and lack of it—in drawing any particular subject, it’s about two main things.
First, simple tenacity. Drawing is the foundation of all other visual art, and it feeds into everything else if you do it regularly to keep in practice. It’s like working out, you’ll never notice changes day-to-day, but every so often you notice you’re suddenly better—or fitter—than a few weeks ago, months ago, years ago.
Second, kindness. Not in general—but do that, too—but to ourselves. Be kind to you and try to avoid beating yourself up for any perceived lack of progress. There’s no end point, so there’s no race or rush, it’s just something you do. And it can be anything, not necessarily a high concept or grand scene. Simple lines. Circles. Cups. Leaves. Hills. Buildings. Faces. Figures. All worthy subjects along the way. Just the habit of working, as usual, is the most important thing.
Then, don’t stop.
Working to deadlines is often necessary. Time is the one luxury we can’t invoke more of with greater resources, it just gets reallocated.
But, as in every other aspect of creating that requires shoving other things and obligations aside in order to do the work, even a short time is better than none. Here’s where the habit comes in: it takes over when stress and lack of motivation are high.
And, sometimes, we can only produce a small amount of something. Some times are filled with despair and uncertainty. We can only trust that these are transitory. Everything passes by. What might make a difference is that it’s rare something has to be finished in one day. Mostly, work is done in stages, building on things that were done on previous days.
We trust that the pile we’re throwing today’s work upon is going to look better, eventually. It isn’t about today, nor tomorrow. And that holds true even during times we feel good about the shovelful we’ve made in any one day. When there’s flow and inspiration and a sense of insight, it’s still only a passing day’s work to throw on the heap, and it’s little different whether it’s hours’ worth or a few minutes. You won’t be able to tell when you got a little done or a lot, it’s still one big, lumpy pile of work. Consistency is always better. And the rest is editing.