Art Is Not For Control Freaks

Kimono Threads 11"x 14" Cold Wax on Panel

For a long time my painting life operated on the Ira Glass principle which you can read about here.  I can't say it any better than he did so I won't bother to try.  Okay, I lied I'll sum it up in case you don't feel like following the link.  Basically Glass says that early in our artistic life our standards are higher than our artistic outcomes and so we feel frustrated. We are kabobed on a skewer between our own good taste and our unskilled hand.

 Along with this I wonder how much "belief" plays a role in this perceived distance between what we love and aspire to and what we create. A study I read years ago suggested that the only variable that set creative people apart from non creative people was (get this) that the creative people believed they were creative. Another study  suggests that "belief" is such an important aspect of mind that it can influence whether food acts as if it has lots of calories or few calories when it hits our metabolic system.  So what beliefs do you hold about your work, your process, your life?  How do they influence (unconsciously or consciously) how you work and what shows up in your work (or life)?  Don't get me wrong, I am a big believer in the fact that sustained practice or the repeated engagement with our medium, whatever it is, pulls us forward in our work.  I think it was Picasso that said "inspiration finds us working." But what is the role of trust and faith in ourselves and our process?

The Secret Life of Dirt 10"x 10"

These questions interest me because I have experienced a lot of frustration with my process.  I think in part it was because I wanted something that wasn't showing up on my canvas (commonly known in Buddhist circles as rejecting what is and recognized as a source of suffering). But curiously that frustration seems to have burned itself up, for reasons I don't fully understand.  It mostly is just not present anymore.  Maybe it was a state I just had to pass through after sustained hours, like the seemingly endless fields of Montana, but I digress into geographical insults.

As I look back on this state of frustration I realize that there is an aspect of "pride" in it.  When I am beseiged by the unconscious thought, "I am better than this ugly painting in front of me, I should be able to create something more pleasing than this" I am not only rejecting what is, but claiming superiority over it.  Ouch.

A Body of Thought 10"x10"

There were many times I thought of just packing it all up and taking those art supplies to the thrift store, kind of like a friend of mine who threw his golf clubs in the lake after a really bad game and never golfed again.  But there is something that keeps me going, a sense that I am looking for something, and that something is just around the corner, kind of like tracking an animal or fishing, to use a carnivorous analogy.  I used to joke with my Zen teacher that there was something very pure in pursuing a goal that I felt I was not very good at.  William Vollman says it this way, " The most important and enjoyable thing in life is doing something that's a complicated, tricky problem that you don't know how to solve."  Wendell Berry says "it's the impeded stream that knows how to sing." (full poem here)

How To Read The News 10"x10"

I am reading "Free Play" by Stephen Nachmanovitch.  He's a musician but his exploration of the creative process spills over into all of life, because isn't life the ultimate creative pursuit?  I like what he has to say about our relationship with our work. This is the growing edge I am exploring these days. "We arrive at this effortless way not by mastering the instrument but by playing with it as a living partner. If I think of the ... paintbrush ...as an object to be controlled then by definition it is outside of me... Unless I surrender my identity, the instrument's identity and the illusion of control, I can never become one with my own process, and the blocks will remain.  Without surrender and trust -- nothing."

Nachmanovitch winds down the chapter on surrender by saying " Unconditional surrender comes when I fully realize -- not in my brain but in my bones -- that what my life or art has handed me is bigger than my hands, bigger than any conscious understanding I can have of it, bigger than any capacity that is mine alone."  Apparently art is not for control freaks.  Or is it that art, if we let it, slowly works away at dissolving the control freak in us?  Really it's all about the mystery of the process, the mystery of life, just the mystery, really.

Old Moon, New Adventures In Being Human

The Full Cold Moon on Dec 28th

It's new year's eve and the light is just beginning to drain from the day.  A small deer stands in the meadow down by the pond. He stares strangely toward the house of a neighbour that hunts his kind. It's a strange behaviour that I've witnessed often on our property.  Can he sense something?  What catches his attention? Am I imagining this? Or are the roosters just making noise? I really can't know, in a definitive way.

His small gesture reminds me that this year I have come to more deeply appreciate that this world is alive with energy that I cannot see, pulsing with sounds I can't hear and filled with things I cannot understand with my linear mind. In short this year has convinced me that world is a magical place, full of mystery. It is a blend of simplicity and complexity that defies wrapping it up neatly in a ball.  It is what makes life truly tantalizing.

I have learned that to live in this world with some grace it is important to be able to hold opposing thoughts in my mind. While I have learned that I am not in control of what happens, I have also learned that there is power in my intentions.  So while I can relax and not push so hard for what I "want" to happen, I can also hold the good and beautiful in my mind in an unattached way. Maybe it sounds confusing when I try to reduce it to mere words, but when I can actually live this way it is strong and powerful.

I think I was born knowing that nothing is ever wasted if you learn something from it, but this year I've bumped up against this one in ways that have left me bruised and scraped and deeply humbled. I'm not at all as nice as I hoped I was.  Perhaps I need to get a dog so I can see myself through her eyes, but alas I am a cat person.  I've learned that anger can bubble up like a mad cauldron and that it can be hard to keep from getting burnt and burning others with it's fire.  And sometimes you just need to see those glowing embers to really get it. I've learned how tangled up with expectation, attachment, hurt and self protection, anger can be.

I've learned that so much hinges on gratitude and intention.  I've learned that I need to remind myself of that everyday, that I have the choice, to lift 5 lbs of gratitude each morning or let the muscle atrophy out of neglect. I've learned how these feelings inspire the beauty of the day to smile back at me.

And I hope I've learned a smidge about kindness and compassion. I hope that sometimes when people say or do something that seems unkind that I recall my own less than stellar behaviour and am reminded that we are all riding in the same leaky little boat.

And I have learned that sometimes I have more choices than I think, that I can find a creative solution when I think I feel like I'm backed into a corner. I like to think I have learned just a little more this year how to follow that still, small voice inside.

moon through rain on the window

So I would just like to say thank-you to 2012 for being such a rich year, full of learning and magic and beauty, peppered with the inevitable sadness that comes from living a life here on earth.

I wish you all a new year of great joy and health, filled with all the beauty this world has to offer (and a few excellent adventures). May you venture out past your comfortable boundaries, may you have some deeply satisfying conversations, may you enjoy the warmth of interesting humans and animals. May the sun of 2013 warm your bones and the breezes blow sweetly through your hair. May you be fully alive. These are my wishes for you as you step with gusto into another new year.

Being With The Body

This is a picture of the Mandala of Chenrezig or the Buddha of Com- passion, the day before it's completion, last Saturday. It is apparently the largest sand mandala ever done here in North America. It's hard to see in this photo but it was luminous under the gallery lights, bursting with detail and complexity. An amazing piece of art, taking 3 weeks to create with several monks working from 10-4 each day. (And never a crib note in sight!) It will remain on display at the AGGV until Dec 5th when a ceremony will be performed and it will be swept into the sea.

I have had lots of time for contemplation today as I lazed about after having an infected tooth extracted. The young dentist who performed the extraction looked more like he should be getting on a school bus and as he sunk in the needle he talked to his assistant about Archie and Veronica getting married. When I could speak without biting him, I commented that it seemed more like Archie and Veronica should be moving into a Senior's Home. In truth this chit chat was an exhibit of compassion, of his kind wish to put me at ease, to amuse, too uplift my spirits, to offer us all an opportunity to lighten up. He was willing to do that when in truth he could have worked away in silence.

The Tricycle Daily Dharma was about "Pain" today so it couldn't have been more apropos for me. It was a helpful reminder to just be with the pain, rather than reject it. As I sat waiting for the procedure and feeling a bit antsy and nervous I imagined the comfort that people who believe in a "God" get from thinking, "God will take care of me." And then I reminded myself of the Buddhist version of that, something my Zen teacher has said, "the Buddhas are always raining down help." It's about faith, really. And that quelled the panic somehow, the urge to get up and run out of the office. And the procedure was fine and as I laughed with the Dental Assistant afterward, it is the anticipation of most things that is the worst. You know the old Mark Twain saying, "I have had many terrible experiences in my life, some of which have actually happened."

What I did really become aware of today is the subtle, almost imperceptible way I hold myself against pain, against ideas that I don't want, against unpleasant scenarios that seem to play in my head. By having time to lie very still, I could watch how certain thoughts produced instant tension in my body. I could go from a little twinge in a tooth, to an unpleasant thought about what that might indicate, to a titanic version of a dental disaster, all in a flash. And I could feel the tension it produced in the body. And the light went on (and this time there was somebody home) that I spend most of my time with my body in this state of subtle tension. I experienced how soothing it was for the body to completely relax, to not be on guard against anything. I am not a hunter-gatherer roaming the Savannahs, yet that on-guard, ready for danger feeling, seems to rest (or should I say un-rest) just below the surface of every waking moment.

And though I am so far from Christian that I might be considered "Christianaphobic", an oddly Christian sounding phrase popped into my mind as I lay there quietly, enjoying total relaxation. "Thy will be done". Hmmm, where did that come from, I wondered? The Zen group I used to belong had some terminology that seemed uncomfortably "Christian" to me and I suspect I heard this phrase from a certain Abbot. And what it was really saying to me as I lay there was "why don't you just relax, you're not in charge here. This is not your show, your restaurant .... you don't need to direct the waiters and the cooks and the dish pit. Just know that things are somehow being looked after and you don't need to worry about them. Just experience them as they arrive." To continue with the restaurant analogy, taste what comes to you, drink deeply, don't be greedy for certain tastes and reject others. Somewhere the meal that is right for your karmic plate is getting cooked up (ingredients get adjusted along the way). Bon appetit! Okay I just have to throw in a one liner. I can't resist. It seems vaguely related. A good friend of mine has a signature on his email that I love. "At the feast of the ego, everyone leaves hungry."

Asking For Help

Jizo (pictured here) the Bodhisattva of women, children and travelers  seems good company for a writing on "asking for help".  This mixed media piece incorporates several image transfer techniques with rusty orange and green acrylics.

I love this quote by Gary Snyder: "If you ask for help it comes, But not in any way you'd ever know."  It reminds me of the old joke about a guy who is caught in a flood.  First a row boat comes to save him and he declines saying God is going to save him.  Then he declines a power boat and a helicopter.  When he gets to heaven.  He says, " God, I thought you were going to save me."  God replies,"I sent you 2 boats and a helicopter, what did you want me to do?"

I can remember my Zen teacher giving talks  on "asking for help".  It always intrigued people and we were always left scratching our heads a little, asking, "how do I know when I get the answer?"  That is the tricky part, the part that takes practice.

It was a wonderful idea for most of us, new to a daily practice, that when we were really stumped, that we could sit down quietly and ask for help.  Ask, what is it good to do here?  And then listen.  Thing is, a lot of us aren't used to listening, to just sitting with a question in a state of openness.  It takes practice. ..... and faith.   

First there is wandering mind, and then the answering mind that thinks it knows everything.  The ability to just be still and open takes practice.  First of all it seemed like my mind always knew too much, too soon.  It didn't know how to be quiet and open.

And then there is the faith, the faith that the answer will come and faith in our ability to recognize it as an authentic answer.  The mind wants to get in there.... Maybe it's just me thinking, maybe it's not the real answer.  "Ah the doubting mind is hell."  Who said that?  And yet it is good to be careful, to be aware and consider what is going on, to walk the razors edge between care and doubt. 

What I have found is that it's a skill that like any other skill develops over time.   I find that the answer doesn't necessarily come right when I ask.  It might come when I'm having a shower or sitting in meditation another day.  These are two of the most likely receiving stations for me.  And how do I recognize the answer?  It is a sensing, a feeling, an intuitive way of knowing that evolves from our practice, from our developing awareness.

I find it is a helpful way to deal with difficult or important questions in my life.  ....Or things that completely baffle me.  It is comforting to know that I have help that I can access.  My sense of it is that these answers come from inside and outside, in an "everything is connected" kind of way.  And I love to think about the sense of mystery that is present in this world.  How much there is that we really don't know.  We are swimming in a sea of mystery and help is always nearby.  All we have to do is ask and listen.  And watch for helicopters.

Zen Dust

This morning as I was sitting in meditation I got a little insight into the koan of stress I've been working with lately.  (I get some of my best ideas & insights when I'm sitting.  That certainly keeps me coming back to my cushion for more!)  A couple of things became clearer to me. I have been highly aware of a feeling of bodily stress lately, brought on by the thought that I have a lot of things to do.  This morning I could see clearly that what the mind was doing here was an intense (but subtle) form of grasping or clinging.  I had this sense that my whole body was somehow reaching forward, into the future, if that makes any sense.  

Next I could see that this grasping was definitely me wanting to be in the driver's seat, wanting to control what happened.  And then it was like a little set of dominoes.  I could see this as a form of fear, this wanting to be in control, this needing to get things done.  And as I write this I realize what is fear, but a lack of faith?  There it is my grasping, my needing things to be a certain way,  my fears are all really a lack of faith.  Because faith is really a trusting that everything is fine just the way it is.  We are always taken care of and what we need is always right there for us.  Our work is really just to be present, and make our choices from that quiet place of non grasping, if we can.  If not, well what we need will come to us as well.  When we don't get it, the lesson just keeps coming back to us until we do.

And while this came as understanding I was also reminded that the desire to understand is another form of wanting.  And that as much as anything when we are in a place of confusion we need to let go of our desire to understand.  Such a western mind thing, it seems to me.  We are so attached to figuring things out and having to understand  (says she who feels she had figured something out this morning! ah we are such funny creatures,  my teacher would say!)  Ah, to simply appreciate the world in it's complexity and mystery, there is a pleasure if and when we can do it.

So that was my further exploration of the koan of stress that I wrote about in "What is the sound of one broom sweeping"?  A proverbial shaking out of the dusty broom, for now.  And so I have posted this unfinished painting that makes me cringe a bit.  It reminds me to rededicate myself to that silent, what do I know approach, to creating my art.  An approach where I simply go into my studio and spend some time with a piece.  I am not grasping after "I want to finish this".  I am not grasping after "I'd like to get on to the next piece."  I am not judging it saying "I think you're ugly."  I will just spend some time with it, getting to know it, with no agenda.  And maybe it will whisper something to me about where it wants to go or what it wants to be.  Or maybe it will remain a complete mystery to me for a while longer.  I just need to have faith.  And perhaps a nice coffee to go with it.