When I was young I could sleep for hours and hours. I stayed up until wee hours of the morning, painting or reading, or just gazing at the moon. Then I could easily sleep until noon. The only way I ever saw the sunrise was by staying up until it arrived. I loved my time in the stillness of the night, when everyone else was sleeping. And I loved the luxurious quality of my welcoming bed when I passed out from exhaustion.
My body does not fare well when I try to stay up too much later than 11pm anymore. I did a one year stint of graveyard shift graphic design several years back that cured me of that ability. Ever since I recovered from that job, I am useless in the late evening.
On the other had, I don’t sleep like I used to when so much younger, either. A lot of times, I’ll wake up at 3-4 am with a sudden inspiration that just won’t shut up. I keep index cards and a pen by my bed so I can write those down, ease my mind, and hopefully go back to sleep. Many times, though, the index card trick will not suffice. So, I rise.
In the stillness of early morning, I once again find that delicious solitude that feeds my spirit longing. As I engage in whatever creative endeavor the muse has prodded me toward, joy wells up and I know deep peace once more. I love to greet the sun infused with this creative joy. And I am grateful I only need my own permission to take a nap.
I’m kind of a sloppy cook. I will only loosely follow a recipe, if I use one at all. When I prepare food I lean heavily on the help of the Muse. It is another art form with texture, color, smell and flavor being my palette. And, especially if it is a raw food concoction, I will allow my taste buds full rein as they pursue their creative urges.
That said, there is nothing like a simple meal of sliced apple and raw almond butter. No frills, nothing elaborate, still it fully satisfies the palate and the body. It is enough.
When I am creating with brush or pen, it is a process of joyous meditation. The lines and colors reveal themselves as I lean into the feeling of bliss. At the same time, it is a process of quiet discipline (even if the stereo is blasting and I am dancing through it), where every so often I pause, step back and check to see if it is enough.
There is a balance point. It is the artist’s journey to seek this pinnacle, and stop – at enough. Beyond it is too much. The beauty starts to fade as the paint becomes muddy. The mystery and grace can get lost in too much busy definition. Elegance can become jaded. Once I have watercolored or penned past this point of sufficiency, there is no traditional way to reclaim the original fresh beauty than to start all over with a whole new piece of paper.
In this regard, graphic design has been my redemption. Utilizing the magic qualities of Photoshop and Illustrator I can excerpt that exquisite portion from one painting, combine it with another painting, a photograph, texture, or some beautiful plain white space. Muddiness can be cleared up. Busyness can be eliminated. Simple elegance can be retrieved.
About twenty-four years ago I was a graphic designer, yet new to the computer world, other than a stint with a character recognition machine at a newspaper that had employed me. The first computer I worked on was given to us. It had two floppies and no hard drive. I got out the hack saw and a little power grinding tool and installed a hard drive in it, and went from there. I owe the hutzpah to my Dad.
One of my Dad’s greatest legacies to all of his children was a sense of fearlessness when it comes to “fixing” things. I remember Dad literally fixing the car with a screw driver and a hammer. Who knows how far he would have gone in the computer world, given a few years leg up on the industry. When he was young (like 15) he wanted a job, so he told the guy at the dump truck company, “Sure, I’ve driven these things for years.” He got the job, and drove off in the dump truck. That was his full training in truck driving, at that point. He taught us that things make logical sense, and you can just rely on that. Anyway, as a result of his attitude, I’ve always been willing to jump in and take something apart, figure it out, and “fix” it.
After I “fixed” that first computer, it’s been a non-stop stream of projects to “fix” when it comes to the use of my computer and my graphic design work. And if it wasn’t hardware that needed replacement, there’s been some software issues that needed tending. Unending… unending. Like the time last year when one of my clients had her website compromised, hacked, and plumbed chockfull of malware. OUCH!!
I fixed the site by taking the entire thing down, completely replacing the site with original files, changing all the passwords on everything I had access to, and successfully re-submitted it to Google. Within a couple weeks, it was compromised again. I fixed the site again, and once more it happened. This time, however, my protections on my own computer became compromised. It took down my whole system. There are people who truly specialize in security and cleaning sites. I am NOT one of them. I suggested my client find one of them, as I am an artist, not a qualified code-wrangler.
There was something about the can-do attitude that doesn’t serve me in fulfilling my purpose, that doesn’t support me in being an artist. That has to do with an additional belief that I somehow tacked onto the can-do. That is: if I can-do I should-do. Finally, as I enter my time of being an elder, I have come to realize that if I tried to do everything I could do so thought I should do, I would never have time to even eat or sleep, let alone create art.
This last May, when Adobe CS5 was released, I was among the first to acquire it. (Oh, I am ever grateful for that!) These days I am concentrating my Can-Do on learning all the wonderful aspects of these creative tools, and working to “fix” my techniques of using them. No more shoulding on myself. Rather, I could, can and do what my heart tells me to.
I can’t tell you how many times in my life, I’ve been told either by hint or directly that it was nice that I enjoyed doing art, and wasn’t it about time I get a real job?
I’m here to declare today, “Art IS my real job!” At the center of me is this creative spirit that can’t help but practice art every moment I am alive. Many, many years ago I performed my own ceremony. I dedicated myself, my life, my efforts, all of me, to serving God, Goddess, Spirit, Great Mystery (I use all of those words and more interchangeably because I know my little human brain is incapable of having a complete concept of True Source). When I turn to this source to give me guidance, to use me as an instrument, my little self steps out of the way of God doing His work – His Art. That is my real and only job.
So many times, on the road to coming to this epiphany, this realization of some kind of truth, I have spent many an hour denigrating my creative urge, being judgemental of my natural state of joy, discounting my innate calling to spread beauty. What was I thinking? Too much, I suspect. Paying far too much attention to the loud voices without, rather than the small still voice within. Now that I have started to flip that around more often than not, I have truly come to realize that this is one of the most important understandings of this journey: art IS my real joy, uh, job!
I just signed up for the Thriving Artists Project at http://bit.ly/eVRlVk. I don’t lightly sign up for things on the internet. I simply don’t have time for a lot of stuff. I’m too busy trying to make a living, and better yet, thriving, being an artist. Somehow, though, the name of this particular website just fit for me. ;o)
Yes, it’s pretty obvious why. I have a really hard time with the popular opinion that in order to be a great artist you have to be starving. There’s the very logical and wise part of me that declares that that’s a bunch of hooey! Yet, still, business has not been my forté, and I always seem to have more that I could learn in this regard. So, I signed up. I am looking forward to seeing what the premise is, and where it will take me.
Years ago I organized my first bunch of artists for our mutual good. We did an auction called “Art from the Heart,” and raised funds to get together a cooperative effort that would benefit all of us. Suddenly, when there was money, someone rose up vociferously to lay claim to the proceeds for their own pet project. Art politic ensued and I backed out, only to try it again a few years later from a slightly different angle. It would take some time and concentration to count the number of times I attempted in earnest to create some cooperative artist thriving project or another. Everytime I’ve gotten closer, and I still have a few ideas up my sleeve.
In the meantime, the name of this project tastes sweet, and I await it hopefully. I am ready to thrive as an artist, and I’m ready to be amongst a group of thriving artists!
Many years ago I made the conscious decision to choose joy in my life, and went about discovering how that could be more my experience than some alternative one. Filling my cup with that joy, that beauty, is a life long endeavor, achievable only one moment at a time.
