How To Make Art

I am thinking some more about the process of making art. I have returned to a favourite book of mine "The Zen of Creativity, Cultivating Your Artistic Life" by John Daido Loori.

I'd just like offer up one of the many underlined paragraphs in a much thumbed chapter called "Enlarging the Universe". Here's what Loori has to say about process: "Before engaging the creative process it is helpful to understand some of the basic elements that are functioning in it.

The first of these elements is the muse, a sense of inspiration that initiates the process of creation. The second is the hara, a place within us that is still and grounded. Then there is chi, the energy contained both in us and in the subject. Out of chi emerges resonance, a feeling of recognition between the artist and subject. Finally, there is the act of expression itself, where the expression is allowed to flow unhindered from the artist to the creation. The artist steps out of the way and lets the art happen by itself."

Go forth and create!

Art As Spiritual Experience

I have spent the last two days at an art/collage workshop with Nick Bantock, a lovely, sensitive soul who plumbs the depth of his experience in an effort to offer serious practice and direction to artists. He has spent years developing his process, pacing his studio, conducting dialogues with himself and approaching his personal truth with pastel, paint and bits of paper. It would appear that it has been a richly textured journey and he has emerged as a wise and generous guide who shares his gifts with compassion and a twinkle in his eye.

Bantock spent the weekend encouraging us to go deeper, sounding a lot like a Zen monk at many of the twists and turns along the way, playing "Born to Be Wild" and The Clash to try and stupify our inner control freaks and coax out our Johnny Rotten. He reminded us that art doesn't come from the head, it comes from somewhere deep inside. It's about a gut feeling. Our authentic, intuitive self will lead the way, if we let it. It's the old "the mind makes a good servant but not a very good master" idea. Ultimately we are not in control. Sound like the Dharma? You bet.

And he reminded us that the art that truly engages and hooks the viewer speaks from a deep inner core that is at once personal and universal. If we can be deeply authentic in our creations it will speak to others. Look at the art you love, the art that speaks across the chasms of time and culture, what is the binding thread? Someone has reached deep into their gut and scooped out a little bit of their insides for us? How could we not be touched by such offerings?

Bantock skillfully led us through a progression of exercises that showed us how to disengage the mind. Create your own country. What's the population, the weather, the landscape? When we went round the circle we could see how we were skimming the surface; boring, nice,predictable, yawn. He suggested we go for detail, quirky ones. He suggested perhaps we needed some shadows to flesh out the landscape, a trickster or two. He showed us what we were up to, surfing the flat, slick, surface of our little kingdoms. We were awakening to the invitation to go deeper, to find the poignant, touching places in our countries, the ones that speak to the vulnerabilities and joys of being human.

He pulled the final trick from his shock of grey hair when he cunningly cut us loose to create our own works from scratch. I got caught on the "making pretty art" hook. Too much conscious design going on here, too polite, Bantock observed. It doesn't reflect the person I see in front of me. I got it. I understood it in my head. My poor little ego was writhing and smarting but that was fine. I didn't come here for the good housekeeping seal of approval. If I wanted an easy-bake oven I would have ordered one on ebay. Bantock moved in with his scalpel and chalk dust. It was just what the surgeon ordered. If he told me my work was lovely and fine, would I be motivated to stretch? I would go home and keep on doing what I'm doing.

So I have a delicious invitation with my name on it, that I will open tomorrow and the day after, and the day after that. It is an invitation to go deeper; an invitation to open the cage that holds the golden bird of a deeper, more authentic self. Sit a while, have a cup of tea. Breath deeply from the hara. Have patience and faith. Oh, and don't forget the paint and the brush, and perhaps a few bits of paper.

The Dharma of Physiotherapy

Like me this painting has been around for a while. And it's been reinvented, which is perhaps what we do with ourselves. It's 11x14 and called "Behind The Veil". There is a lot we hide from behind our veils, in our comfy cocoons of controlled experiences, our stories of who we are, our invented selves, don't you think?

Last night I was doing some exercises for my mildly frozen shoulder, as the physio refers to it. The exercises he suggests consist of stretching my sore arm past what's comfortable, experiencing some pain and using the good arm to help move the sore arm past where it usually goes.

As I did the exercise I could see that I tensed up when things started to get painful. I was in effect bracing myself against the pain. And then I thought, why don't I just regard it as sensation, rather than pain (which of course has a negative connotation). Oh and if you don't mind, stop holding your breath and gritting your teeth!

As I just breathed and observed the sensation I felt my body relax. Not pain, simply sensation, the stretch the pull, the tightness, a little numbness, an ache in the bicep. A dose of awareness.

And low and behold, the stiff arm moved back past where it normally went. I just experienced the detail of the movement. I continued to do the exercise and as I did it I thought about how it applied to so much more in my life; how I hold myself against things I don't like, how I regard certain things as pain and stop there without really experiencing them, how I resist what I regard as unpleasant.

I could see how the picking and choosing of experiences, qualifying them and judging, weighing and measuring them sucked them of their true nature. To walk directly into what is without naming it, that offers true possibility. I could see how relaxing, changed the whole experience, allowed me to be with what was.

And so the Physio in his matter of fact way was in fact offering some Dharma. Experience some pain (if you want to call it that). Move past what you deem as comfortable. Stretch yourself. Use your strengths to help you with what hurts. And if you keep on doing this, consistently, it can bring healing. I am reminded again of how much teaching there is in the body.

So Long And Thanks For The Fish

The scent of cilantro from the garden lingers on my hands as I type this. I can see 6 lovely little boats anchored off the small island to the north as I sit on the deck, ocean spread out in front of me like a wide screen TV. The air is like a tepid bath, a welcome note in this so far coolish summer.

Now you might think things were quite perfect here in lotus land but that would belie the fact that a small trail of Dukkha seems to be following me around. I won't go into details but it involves my usual dharma ornaments of late, housing and art.

The days have been filled with disruptions that seem to throw me off my game every morning. I have a plan, life intervenes and I never get to my plan. It's like some strange witches brew poured into the morning coffee. The fridge doesn't work and all the food in it is going bad. No one returns phone calls. And more that I won't mention. There is a feeling tone to it all that oozes anxiety and dissatisfaction. And in the trail of slightly off cue steps I find my expectations that things should work out smoothly, lying on the floor like a smothered cat. The little details should get taken care of in a timely manner, I expect that. Ah, expectations, the mother of disappointment. And the cloudy cataract that they cast over everything.

And as the week pulls itself forward, one set of strange twists and turns works out in our favour and then a surprising email arrives that seems like a rude little punch in the stomach. And then I get to watch all the old vulnerabilities come up, washed in tears. I can see the wounded ego. I can see that anger is just hurt, spewing fire. And in a strange way I know it's all okay. I trust that there is a bigger picture. I know that the person who has dealt my ego a big blow is confused and hurting. I have to remember not to lash out. Can I navigate the inevitable with grace?

And so the days go by filled with teaching. I see the opportunity to not go down the same old path. I breath in the hurt and just experience it. I know there is some reason somewhere for this chain of events that I don't quite understand. I remember to forge a new response weakening the old neural pathways the old habitual ones that are quick to feel not good enough, to indulge in despair. "wrong way" I hold up the sign on that neural pathway. Time to try a different off ramp.

And so I can say that life is strange, that adversity is really opportunity in wolves clothing. And while we are inclined to like the days where things work out seemingly in our favour I ask the question "who really knows what good or bad is?" I simply know what is.

Dharma Jewelery & Zen Confections

Here is the little sister enso of the one I posted last time. The first part of the fun is creating the textured ground and then the deliciously goopy resin-like enso paint gets dripped on like cake icing. mmmm, I'm getting hungry. I'll have a large slice of enso with a double scoop of sukkha, a lovely Zen confection. But my foolish streak is getting tangled with my sweet tooth and if I'm not careful I might need a chiropractic adjustment (of the spiritual kind, of course).

As the days pass and life goes on, the little box cars of disappointment and sadness that have been passing over the terrain are trailing off in the distance. Disappointing house news. Several days pass. A pleasant phone call comes in. An art opening takes place. The garden needs water. Canada Day Fireworks. We pop into an eco-builder's open house. Each activity, like a delicate sheet of tissue paper adds an ethereal cloudy layer to what went before. The brilliant present fades into the foggy past. It is always that way, I think. The more difficult the situation, the more story we give it, the more extended the fade out process. If we can find our way to just let things be, their dream like quality makes itself known to us. If we keep tearing up and pulling off the layers of tissue, we prolong the process, contributing to our own suffering.

And while the intensity of experience fades with time, it is different than pushing it away. We're not beating off our sadness with ice cream or new shoes. We're just letting impermanence run its course. So while we're not indulging in comestibles or new wardrobe items Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche recommends the following jewellery: "Difficulties are like the ornaments of a good practitioner. Dharma is not practiced perfectly amidst pleasant circumstances."

What are your ornaments?

The Taste of Attachment

Another enso. Another day. More Thoughts.

"Not knowing how to work with thought means one is controlled by thoughts. Knowing how to work with thought means that thought is brought into awareness and used either for positive purposes and virtuous action or is liberated into its empty essence. This is how thought is utilized in the path. In the same way, we can bring delusion, suffering, and any experience whatsoever into the path. But to do so we must understand that the essence of all that arises is empty. When we do, then every moment of life is free and all experience is spiritual practice: all sound is mantra, all form is pure emptiness, and all suffering is a teaching. This is what is meant by “transforming into the path.” - Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche

Teaching, suffering, attachments, lots of thoughts all mixed together in a gooey stew. This was today's meal. And when it was served up we got to chew on some hard bits and some bitter tastes we didn't much care for but there you have it, life stew 101.

You need all the tastes, salty, sour, sweet, bitter and pungent to create a really memorable dish. Today's meal was made up of the news that the owners of this lovely property are not ready to sell it. While we understand, we were filled with sadness and disappointment. We got to see how attached we'd become, how we rested our hopes on a few spoken sentences. And how this imbued meaning, these thoughts created suffering. Simple story. And the work was to not deny our disappointment but to spend some time with these weighty feelings, shed a few tears and not run with a story. Not to call ourselves foolish for harbouring hope, not to incriminate others for speaking words that fostered hope, but simply to know this is a common human dance. If we were wiser beings we might have been completely open to whatever came along. But being lesser mortals we drifted in and out of sadness and disappointment

But nothing is ever wasted if you learn from it. We learned how quickly hope can build and how little is needed to fuel it. And we learned that it's all okay. No one did anything wrong. It is an opportunity now to move in a different direction. My old Dharma teacher always said, "a no is as good as a yes". It is an opportunity to look up and have faith and trust that things work themselves out, that there is a bigger picture that we don't see.

And as we ate our dinner we remembered to have gratitude for these folks who have generously shared their beautiful home with us. It was a wonderful, magical welcome to the island. We look forward to the next step into the great unknown. May life bring you what you need.

A Precious Human Life Meets Summer

Here's a new piece, 20"x 24". It's called Andy's Buddhas. I know you can guess why. Each little Buddha is wearing a verse from the Dhamapada and the bottom block of green has the words from "This Precious Life" by the Dalai Lama:

Every day, think as you wake up, Today I am fortunate to have woken up, I am alive, I have a precious human life, I am not going to waste it. I am going to use All my energies to develop myself, To expand my heart out to others, To achieve enlightenment for The benefit of all beings, I am going to have kind thoughts towards others, I am not going to get angry, Or think badly about others, I am going to benefit others As much as I can

Yesterday as I was hanging the laundry (a favourite meditation of mine) I felt this deep sense of being home, of true joy. I am generally a slightly grumbly type but this place just fills me with gratitude. Everything about it seems just right for me. There is privacy and quiet and a beautiful rural quality to the place. I can hang out in the garden. I can water the plants in my pyjamas with my hair standing in ways that would frighten small children. I can spend endless hours messing around with art materials. I have found placement for my art in several venues and the natives here seem uncannily friendly when you go into town.

I realized as I counted my blessings that these were all outward manifestations that could change at any time and that true equanimity comes from being okay with whatever comes up. This in fact deepens the gratitude and joy for me, knowing how special and fleeting such things can be. Appreciating and enjoying the small pleasures of life does not stand against knowing that our true essence lies somewhere deeper. The most "spiritual" beings I have met are filled with laughter and joy. They are also filled with faith and trust in what presents itself. My old Dharma teacher recently gave a talk on the Rolling Stones line: "You don't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you just might get what you need." Who knew the Rolling Stones were Dharma teachers?

So while the weather isn't overly cooperative in this part of the world we are enjoying the pleasures of summer. Yesterday we wandered a bit in the local Saturday market, picked a huge bowl of strawberries from the patch down by the pond. And following the lead of merci 33 I decided to sleep outside under the full moon. No matter I needed long underwear and a wool sweater. And I slept under the covered part of the deck so when the rain started at 3 in the morning I simply rolled over. The night air was filled with the sounds of frogs and the occasional hooting of owls. Yet at 3 in the morning silence had the upper hand. The moon moved in and out of the clouds and skirting along the tops of the fir trees.

What will you do to welcome this delicious, delicate, fleeting season?