Don't worry, nothing is blocked!

I am currently reading a biography of the folk musician Phil Ochs. One of the experiences that characterized Phil’s life was his extreme relationship with the creative process. As a young man, he was a prolific songwriter. Musical ideas flowed into his imagination like running water, so that he was always scribbling down lyrics or playing melodies into his tape recorder. But when he entered his 30s and his creative juices slowed down and finally stopped, he became increasingly frustrated and ashamed. These desperate feelings, along with his struggles with alcoholism and bi-polar disorder, contributed to his eventual suicide.

Creative people all talk, write and worry a lot about being blocked.

But I contend that there is NOTHING TO FEAR. I honestly believe that, if you don’t have any ideas for a new painting, novel, song or dance, then it’s simply not the right time to be creating anything.

There is no reason to try and force creativity. Having no clear idea of what to do simply means that it isn’t time to be doing anything.

In fact, many theories on creativity posit that it is during our “down” times when our brains are doing their best creative problem-solving, even if we’re not aware of it.

Perhaps you need a rest from your labors. Perhaps you need new stimulation from a trip, a new hobby, an old or new friendship, or anything that might give you a different perspective, as an artist or as a person.

I haven’t touched a brush since May 14, and that’s a big change for someone who typically paints for many hours every day. I haven’t had the slightest urge to do so, and I really haven’t missed working in my studio. Even though it is the activity that I love most in the world, I just haven’t wanted to do it at all for several weeks.

This does not mean that I am blocked. It means that I’ve been working working working in the studio and I need a break.

I have been concentrating on a new dietary plan and cooking in this new way, as well as taking long daily walks with my husband. I also have a college class that meets for four hours a day, three days a week. Other than that, I do laundry, read and sleep. No canvas stretching, no paint mixing, no art, period.

But I know that, as has happened many times before, eventually I will wake up one morning and say, “Today’s the day!” And I will rush down to the studio and get back into my painting.

The human brain is not a machine. It goes through cycles of productivity, just like any other element of nature. Expecting it to perform with machine-like precision is not realistic and can be damaging to your faith and to your confidence. Trust that when you have stimulated or rested your imagination, whichever is appropriate, that little light bulb over your head will come back on, and you’ll go rushing for the studio.

Artistic cycles

Subtitle: How I finally learned to settle down at age 47

I’ve been in my current job (teaching at the same 2 schools) for the past 8 years, my current home for the past 6 years, and my current studio for the past 5 years. This fairly settled state of affairs is a big deal to me, as it’s totally different from any other time in my life.

My father was a Unitarian minister when I was growing up, and my family had moved 5 times by the time I entered high school. I was also very unsettled as a young adult. I attended 6 different college programs as an undergraduate, and earned my master’s degree from a 7th. I moved my place of residence many times starting at age 18, too, living in at least 9 different locations in the Boston area throughout my 20s through mid-30s, and also moving back home with my parents several times during those years. I even moved my studio 4 times after finishing graduate school, before finally settling peacefully here in the basement of my home 4 years ago.

Perhaps it’s because I’m getting older, but I’m realizing how much can be accomplished by finding your most productive place, physically and in intention, and staying there. Moving, moving, moving, packing and unpacking, that constant change and life upheaval, means that you’re always adjusting and re-adjusting, over and over again.

Now that I’ve had some time to get used to being where I am, I’ve developed a natural cycle to my art-making that is only finally emerging after all these years, and it’s emerging because I’m settled and happy.

It goes something like this. Again, it’s a cycle, so there’s no real beginning and ending, just an ongoing shift from one activity to another.

This is the most fun of the fun, so I’ll start here: I have a relatively free stretch of time, and I paint, paint, paint. Not having to be anywhere but in my studio, I can indulge the creative muse with whatever schedule feels right. I get up early and work, then nap, then work into the night, for as many hours at a time are needed. There are short sections of time when I’m stretching or toning canvases, or there are long stretches of time when I’m pushing a canvas as far as it can go. But it’s a day to day schedule that’s completely or almost completely devoted to art-making. This usually happens during natural transitions between academic semesters, for a week or a few weeks, sometimes up to a month.

Then there’s a heavy teaching period. I’ve taught as few as 2 classes a week and as many as 8, but most typically it’s 4 or 5 classes a week. This means that the art-making time is patched together here and there, in time surrounding the class commitments, but I always have at least a few days a week devoted completely to painting.

During these heavy teaching times, I have more money available than usual to buy art supplies, so I usually stock up on materials that I constantly use, such as heavy-duty stretcher bars, 50-yard rolls of canvas, gallons of acrylic medium and basic colors used for toning canvases, and particular colors of Golden fluid acrylics (depending on the colors I’ve been using most recently).

At various times, either just after a busy painting time or at a semester’s end, I find that I am creatively burned out. Then I become aware that it just doesn’t feel right to paint. At these times, I concentrate on my professional career, by emailing or sending application packets to galleries, or searching various lists for exhibition opportunities (although I am always doing this on a sort of ongoing basis). Or else I just stop working in the studio altogether, until such time as I feel like painting again, and I spend my time focusing on my physical state (daily exercising, healthy cooking), spending time with friends, or reading. This is a time of replenishment, and often a time of transition. Either I’m pausing between one series or another, or I’m just plain stopping and resting. This often happens over a major holiday such as Christmas or Easter, or at the end of the summer as it transitions into fall.

I’m not sure if my earlier years of constant wandering were happening because I was simply young and unsure of myself, or if I was repeating the transitory nature of my youth because that’s what felt familiar, or if I genuinely needed to make lifestyle changes. But whatever the reason, I now know that at this time in my life, I feel much more settled and much more aware of the natural, ongoing progressive stages of my life as a productive artist. I’ve finally found myself, at age 47, and it feels good!

Uncredited reproduction of my artwork

I just had an odd experience: I found out that photographs of my artwork have been published in a magazine without my permission, and without giving me credit as the artist (see image, below). Also, one of the two photographs, that the magazine shot and published, was printed with the wrong orientation (showing a row of paintings hanging horizontally instead of vertically).

I've written to the editor and asked that I be given credit in a future issue. But I am surprised that any publication in this day and age would do something so unprofessional.

It's a magazine titled The Bay: Living Well on the East Bay & South Coast. In an article in its May 2010 issue on musical venues in Rhode Island and southeastern Massachusetts, there are two large color photographs of my work, as seen at my recent exhibit at the Narrows Center for the Arts in Fall River, MA (a two-person show with Jeanne Williamson).



I remember hearing a story that one of my professors from UMass Dartmouth, who painted many lovely views of New Bedford, had one of his paintings used on the cover of a publication about tourism in New Bedford without his permission and without naming him as the artist. The ending of that story is that he never said a word about it!!

Have you ever had or heard of an experience like this?

Hopefully, The Bay will publish a notice giving me credit in a future issue, which of course doesn't undo what has already been published, but will make amends. And hopefully this won't happen to another artist whose work is pictured in The Bay in the future.

Interview by Lynette Haggard on her blog

Boston-area artist Lynette Haggard has kindly interviewed me for her blog!

It was fun to answer her questions, which caused me to think carefully about my progress and process. This is not only fun, but instructive, as I tend to just put my head forward and plow ahead! I realized some interesting things about myself when considering her questions, and am flattered that she has chosen me as her first interview guest.

Here is our interview: www.lynettehaggard.blogspot.com

Thank you, Lynette!

New works in alizarin

Here is a new work, as I explore the color red (specifically, alizarin crimson). This piece is 30" square. I am learning what this color can and can't convey as far as mood, associations and suggested three-dimensional depth, as well as how the physical properties of this paint differ from the blues I've come to know so well recently.