Monday, February 27, 2012

Make it new

One of the most important parts of my artistic process is what I call the "platform." Many people assume that creativity is something entirely unbounded and uncontrolled. This view makes creativity out to be something magical, something to be possessed, and something that we either have or we lack (this is rather similar to our culture's incorrect understanding of talent). But, I've found that giving space to creativity allows it to occur much more frequently. This space is the platform, the background against which my work occurs.

My childhood was full of religious and spiritual experiences - tomes, scriptures, poetry, and letters themselves are thus very important to me. I'd say most of my work begins with a reverie upon a piercing written phrase - a few words which resonate. Such a phrase sticks with me for weeks at a time, and often leads to the creation of series of works. Needless to say, finding these resonant phrases holds great rewards for me and I devote quite a bit of time to reading. I read a wide range of subjects - classic novels, analytic psychology, philosophy of religion, semiotics, and poetry. Often though, I read with a 'soft gaze' meaning that I don't focus directly on the material itself but rather its phrasing. For me, the inspiration comes from the micro-narrative rather than the narrative itself - a few words are all I need but they must be the right words. So, literature forms the first part of my overall platform.

The next part is what I call 'hard problems.' Here, a hard problem may be anything from an interesting math equation, to a bit of programming, to a bit of history or sociology, to a troubling composition. The important thing is that I need situations that stretch my thinking in ways I would normally avoid. I find that this resistance helps me keep my visual work fresh. Additionally, by thinking about problems besides art, I'm able to encompass and digest a wider swath of human experience.

Time is the next pillar. I mark off two to three hours every day (regardless of whatever else is going on) to creativity. This means I'm at my workstation producing new work, or I'm doing some kind of research which will generate new ideas. Time to create is critical, and it must be sacred - nothing is allowed to get in the way of it.

Finally, intense physical exercise allows me to connect with my 'somatic imagination' - or, to feel the images that can only be felt by the athlete. It's important to me to not only observe life, but to be fully alive. To me, physical exertion awakens more primitive forms of understanding and keeps my work from becoming too intellectual and existential rather than experiential - otherwise, there's too much room for doubt to creep in and the art becomes stifled.

Subjectivism

One frustrating part of art education are the tacit assumptions made about the way art should be made. Now, these assumptions should not be gotten rid of. Rather, I mean they are frustrating in the sense that they provide a resistance which helps artists grow strong. One such assumption I encountered early on was the idea that the artist should draw what he sees. Well, I found that, even when looking at art, I did not see what was in front of me. Instead, an imaginary image would captivate me. These images seemed to arise in response to what I was observing, though they seemed to have only indirect, analogous relationships to the real world. Often, rather than a static image, I would see a film of sorts, or hear a sound, or experience the sensation of motion or time. So, I realized early that my perceptions didn't line up with those of other people, even of other artists. My imagination overruled my direct experience of the outer world, brining an inherent subjectivism that was profoundly personal to my practice.


Over time, I learned that psychology called this quality of internal subjectivism introversion. Rather than implying an attitude of meekness or shyness, this attitude meant that inspiration came from my response to the world rather than the world itself. It's obvious that our culture at the moment favors extroversion - the rise of facebook, twitter, and blogging along with our economic emphasis on services leaves few of us with any true private life. Immediately, I realized I would be breaking with social norms.


But, a deep sense of individuality inspired me to resist conformity and find out for myself the extent of my potential. I resolved to have a profound and lasting affect on the world around me. Of course, this influence would not come from direct social interaction. Instead, I found that by sharing my internal reactions externally through visual art, I could connect with others in a very deep way. This shared humanity has brought me much joy and has given me courage again and again to assert my individuality within a culture that, often unknowingly, prefers homogeneity.