Monday, June 30, 2014

important does not mean urgent

I will start with an over share. (Is that redundant in a blog?) 

I talked to my therapist last week about fear of art making. Having that conversation with her provided me with some discernment that I have been lacking. It isn't fear of my inability to make work or fear of making the work that keeps me in what feels like a static place in my studio.  It's about having a sense of urgency in producing, yet needing to take my time because of the impact of the work on me and it's importance to me. She said to me: "Important does not mean urgent." Whoa.

She also said, as we were talking about grad school: "You may need to take time to detox from grad school. Sometimes that takes a lifetime." I laughed. Grad school was wonderful for me. But as I'm walking onto what feels more and more like my intended artistic path, I get what she means. Deadlines for other people need to go. The crushing sense that if I'm not showing every second I'm not successful or at least not showing in  the "right" places or to "important" people then I'm not successful has to go. The idea that if people aren't writing about my work, and it isn't being published somewhere means I'm not successful also has to go.  The idea that the folks I was in grad school to learn from knew everything has to go.  The idea that all of those folks would be key in steering my art career (though some of them truly are), and if they don't value me or my work, that I'm not being successful also has to go.

The reality is that I get to define who is important. I get to figure out what showing and sharing the work means to me. I get to define what success is. And I get to figure out how fast I need to move. Again, whoa.

In True Perception by Chogyam Trungpa, he talks about art working through the Great Eastern Sun principle. He says that this principle is that "Great, East, and Sun are categories of awakening or arising. . .the idea of Great Eastern Sun is to be fully confident and fully developed, full speed ahead. The Buddhist analogy is that buddha nature exists in you, fully developed. You don't have to try to bring buddha nature into you, but you are already fully awake, on the spot." And tapping into this is the challenge.

The buddhist teachers that I've had experience with all joke that Buddhism loves lists. It's little wonder that I am starting to feel at home with this philosophy. Trungpa goes on to say that the Great Eastern Sun principle also has three categories beyond these categories of awakening. (See, lists. Maybe Buddha was a Virgo?)  The first is peace or non-aggression.  I have thought about what it means to push your ideas and that art can be very aggressive. He says that dharma art strives to get away from any sort of aggressiveness. He says that fear, competition, making work that is about profit or fame, all of these are ways that aggression shows up in art and that these thing all block creativity and awareness. It doesn't mean that people can't have these in the work, but when that stuff becomes the focus, the spiritual sense of the artist and the work gets lost.  He adds that meditation is a way to move beyond these things and bring the artist back to work that is about "showing the path." It's the idea of responding to first thought, right thought  or "to that thought which is fresh and free." Trungpa also whole-heartedly believes that art is the key creating an enlightened society.  I like that idea. It's not some wild western since of utopia (which frankly always seemed like stuff churned up by overly privileged white folks) but is about creating awakening and connection between artist, viewer,  and community as a whole.

He also talks about meditation as as way of opening up the artist and keeping creating at a more spontaneous and aware space. Over planning (which I am well trained in) results in never actually meeting the blank paper or canvas for it's blankness and never giving the artist a chance to just explore and connect with art making and creative spirit without judgement. I stuck my toe in the waters of trying to find a sense of this after meditation last week. My camera is where I disconnect from judgement in the moment the best and just connect with what's around me and with what I'm making.  I made these images walking from meditation to my next destination. It was a part of a street that I otherwise would have ignored or never thought to make images in. These feel important in the experience of making them. There was nothing urgent about them. It was a joy to walk along and discover with my camera in this way.


 







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