I definitely burned myself out this winter. It doesn't surprise me really. I've been a rabid workaholic most of my life, a textbook type A personality. But then over the last few weeks, I've forced myself to step away from the studio for more than just errands, art openings and family dinners. I went to the country, took long walks, worked on a collaborative art installation with friends, finished some overdue paperwork and started to complete the tasks of spring-cleaning in my house and garden. While my hunger for the studio has been gnawing at me, I've actually been reveling in this "free" time. Interestingly, I have had more new ideas during this time than in the last few months in the studio. I have had the space to allow my thoughts to float freely, somewhere between purposeful problem-solving and nebulous day-dreaming - that space where interesting ideas are born.
In the book that I read recently about painters in their daily studio practice (Joe Fig's "Inside the Painter's Studio"), most of the artists talk about how their ideas are generated by "doing the work", that in the act of painting itself, their art moves forward. They caution young artists to not sit around and wait for inspiration to strike. And while that's true, I think there's something to be said for giving time to a little aimless contemplation. For me, I find that my big ideas, those ideas that have lead to dramatic shifts in my work, have usually come when I'm away from the studio, when my mind has entered that floating state. Anthony Storr describes it this way (in his book "Solitude", p.198):
But in the last few weeks, with time away to wander and ponder, I have been finding my way back to that quiet, excited, ecstatic place within me that teems with ideas. After being overloaded with purpose for months (probably years), I'm becoming addicted to this new zen state of mind.
I'm back in the studio now. It is definitely time to return to some purposeful work - who are we kidding, I still love the feeling of hyper-productivity. But this time, there will be a little more purposeful purposelessness on the schedule.
In the book that I read recently about painters in their daily studio practice (Joe Fig's "Inside the Painter's Studio"), most of the artists talk about how their ideas are generated by "doing the work", that in the act of painting itself, their art moves forward. They caution young artists to not sit around and wait for inspiration to strike. And while that's true, I think there's something to be said for giving time to a little aimless contemplation. For me, I find that my big ideas, those ideas that have lead to dramatic shifts in my work, have usually come when I'm away from the studio, when my mind has entered that floating state. Anthony Storr describes it this way (in his book "Solitude", p.198):
"...the mental state during which new ideas arise or inspiration occurs is exactly that which Jung...called 'active imagination'. [...] new ideas occur during a state of reverie, intermediate between waking and sleeping. Poets, like Yeats and Wordsworth, sometimes describe this state as being both asleep and awake. It is a state of mind in which ideas and images are allowed to appear and take their course spontaneously; but one in which the subject is sufficiently awake and conscious enough to observe and note their progress. [...] the creator seeking inspiration need[s] to be able to be passive, to let things happen within the mind."The studio is not always conducive to this kind of process. The studio is work. The mind is focused on specific tasks, specific problems, specific movements, colors, brushstrokes and images. That is not to say progress is not made through the work itself, but a different kind of progress is made outside the studio. I recently read an interview with the performance artist Marina Abramović where she said (and I paraphrase) that the studio is really a trap, that it turns artists into employees, the studio into an office, and that art should come from living life. Now, I realize she is trying to say something slightly different than I am, that she is talking about inspiration and ideas that come from experiencing life and the process of integrating and translating those experiences back into art. But I heed her warning of the studio as a trap, of experiencing the studio as an office. And there is no question that since school ended, I have been making my studio into a similar experience to my former office life. For months now, I have found myself getting increasingly anxious, stressed, panicked by every failure, relieved by every success. My blog has been filled with words like "goal-oriented", "desire", "success" and "slaving".
But in the last few weeks, with time away to wander and ponder, I have been finding my way back to that quiet, excited, ecstatic place within me that teems with ideas. After being overloaded with purpose for months (probably years), I'm becoming addicted to this new zen state of mind.
I'm back in the studio now. It is definitely time to return to some purposeful work - who are we kidding, I still love the feeling of hyper-productivity. But this time, there will be a little more purposeful purposelessness on the schedule.