So why do I make art? I make it because I’m good at it. But I’m also good at making my bed, which I rarely do. I make art because it surprises me. There is within the thickets of creativity a generous hand that guides and steers the artist, an invisible intelligence that drops hints all along the pioneer’s way. Creative work is a symbiotic exchange of talking and listening as well as risk taking and trust, not unlike the give and take in relationships or a saint’s communion with angels that Elizabeth Gilbert considers in Big Magic.
Creativity begins to “work” when I meet half way, meaning I arrive at my studio with time and attention. The “magic” begins to stir when the invisible hand (substitute Adam Smith’s economic force with a creative force) joins me there, a force that’s so much more than the sum of my talent, time and will. In all of my best work there’s something that slips in to guide my instincts. It’s more than inspiration, though that helps. It’s more than my subconscious, which is still just plain old me. It feels like something outside of me that swoops down to join in the fun. The truth is, I have no idea what’s shaping up until I step back after a session and like what I see.
Generally I’m not a huge fan of Elizabeth Gilbert. I don’t go for her enchanting brand of spirituality, also known as syncretism. She’s acquired many fans, but if you trace her Eat, Pray, Love convictions back to their origins, you will find a heap of contradictions that can come from mixing and fixing religions that have withstood thousands of years. Her faith is a companion to Oprah, who has helped America progress to next level, magical, DIY spirituality. Actually, that vision is nothing more than a western makeover of otherwise unpalatable Hindu, Toa and Buddhist principles like karma, maya and reincarnation that we remember from the 1960s. Except, I forgot- no one remembers anything from the sixties who was actually there.
Although I distrust this DIY movement, I also acknowledge that you have to dig to get to gold. In other words, while I disagree with Elizabeth Gilbert’s convictions and philosophies, her insights and instincts about the mysterious creative process resonate with me. As much as I prefer sharp distinctions and crisp explanations, creativity really is a murky thing.
Art has the added benefit of rounding out my personality which relishes rationalizing and scrutinizing. Classical education was good for me- it saved me from becoming an airhead because left to myself I’d have picked pop culture over history and P.E. over Latin. But classical education is rooted in western logic, which drills you into thinking linearly rather than holistically and paradoxically as you see in Hebraic block logic for instance. Art is a way to focus while also taking a break from the 24/7 dualistic brain. It gives us rest from what Richard Rohr calls the judging mind’s inexhaustible stream of petty, snarky thoughts labeling everything ugly or pretty or fat or thin or dumb or smart or good or evil or nice or mean or brave or cowardly. It’s a pure floating state amongst all the paradoxes that would throw the dualistic brain into conniptions. It’s from this calm and useful state that my collections emerge.