I have been avoiding fabric. I know, I know - blasphemous. I still like fondling it, but actually making stuff with it? Eh. I have spent the last two months doing medieval-style illuminations; knotwork, miniature portraiture, gold leaf work, etc. And I have been doing a LOT of it. It comes so easily, and I'm not really invested in my results, since I'm just playing.
I just got the book "Coaching the Artist Within" by Eric Maisel, and am here to do the first exercise; a variant on the empty chair technique. Basically, it calls for taking myself to task for my personal crap. Here goes:
S: "I never finish anything, and my work bores me."
Art Coach: "That is two issues, let's do one at a time. I think the second will fall away once the first is dealt with, so let's start with why I never finish anything."
S: "Fine. Actually, I DO finish things, just not my art quilts."
AC: "What things DO I finish?"
S: "I finish simple baby quilts. I finish illumination paintings. I finish fabric painting. I do not finish art quilts and projects that mean something to me."
AC: "Let me get this straight - the stuff that actually MEANS something to me I don't FINISH?"
S: "Yup. On the head. The bigger I make something out to be, the less likely I am to finish it."
AC: "Why do I think that is?"
S: "If something isn't done, I have an excuse for it not being good enough. It isn't that it isn't good enough, it is that it isn't good enough YET. Also, I abandon projects that aren't working."
AC: "It sounds putting some extra time up front in my design process could help with the latter problem (ie see my problems before I get to them), and that in turn might make me happier with my progress, and make it easier for me to finish."
S: "Yeah, but that sounds like boring work. Plus, I'm just not excited about all that upfront stuff, and it is my excitement that carries me through."
AC: "But not all the WAY through, or we wouldn't be having this conversation."
S: "True. But this is really starting to sound like WORK. Yech."
AC: "Only if I actually want to finish work that matters to me. If I'm happy playing around and only finishing sketches, then I'm doing fine the way I am. Doing something more meaningful is going to mean WORKING at it."
S: "Well then, I'm doomed, because I am lazy. I don't LIKE being lazy, but motivation and followthrough have never been my forte."
AC: "What is stopping me from MAKING them my forte?"
S: "When I get something right, I feel that I just lucked out. If I actually work at something and fail, then I feel lousy. I just can't take that, I guess."
AC: "Who is judging whether you fail or not? My seascape quilt was fabulous, and I finished it. Why did that work for me?"
S: "Well, I guess I really did plan out those pieces (quilt and bumper set), with sketches and a cohesive fabric pallette and all. Plus, it was for a baby, so the judgement factor was negligible."
AC: "So I fear judgement by folks I consider to be worthy critics?"
S: "I guess so. I suppose that I don't NEED to show my work to others, but then I don't get GOOD feedback either. Maybe I could only show work I am happy with, rather than just anything I have actually gotten finished, good or bad. I think I have made finishing my work a bigger goal than it actually being any good. Talk about messed up priorities."
AC: "Well, yes and no. Good work that isn't finished isn't really good either, right? Why don't I focus on getting my processes *started* right, and then, hopefully, they will *continue* right, and be easier to FINISH and then SHARE, since I'll be ok with them."
S: "Hm. Ok. I'll try that."
That was interesting. I knew what I wanted to talk to myself about before I started, and I *thought* I knew where this was going (ie about who cares if anyone else likes it as long as I do, etc), but, lo and behold, I actually found something to fix OUTSIDE of my head. Pretty neat. Interestingly enough, I have been doing test pieces of my illumination work, and have been really pleased with the results.
I think that part of my issue stems from the silly idea (ingrained in elementary school) that art is a talent, not a skill. A talent you either have or you don't, but a skill takes honing, and honing means preparation and plain old work. I guess I knew it couldn't be that easy, eh? I see how many hours Mrs Mel and Sonji put into their work, and I see how many hours I put into my work when I am in the flow with it. I guess the hard part is transitioning from planned work to flow work and back again as needed. Obviously something I need to work on...
Showing posts with label paradigms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paradigms. Show all posts
3.31.2007
3.30.2007
Hit or Miss
I was just starting up a blog for another community I work with (the InReach Pagan Community), and decided to try the "next blog" button at the top of my interface.
I wound up at the blog of a Franciscan monk, named Charles. (Check out his blog at a minor friar.)
According to his blog, he's a big fan of punk rock.
Gotta love the blogosphere...
Anyway, he talks about what a friend of his calls the "survival of defeatist." Basically, that pessimistic people are better prepared to deal with the trials and tribulations of life because they have already envisioned and thought about those possibilities.
I do not consider myself a pessimist. In fact, I am usually (low-self esteem post of the other day notwithstanding) quite an optimistic person. Never the less, I often *plan* on things going badly, figuring that in this way I am prepared for a poor outcome, and will be better able to deal with it. However, I always *hope for* and *work towards* the best outcome. When questioned about this attitude I say that I always prefer being "pleasantly surprised."
I'm not sure if this has impacted my survivability or not, but it certainly has made me more mentally resilient. I get the challenge of problem solving ways out of negative situations, and I get to put my efforts into working towards more positive outcomes, sometimes avoiding pitfalls that might not have been apparent to me without my problem solving.
I find this proactive and useful. I find it better than pure optimism, which I find somewhat naive; bad things happen, and we can be blindsided by them, anticipate them and do nothing, or plan for them, and hope that we can mitigate their worst effects.
I wound up at the blog of a Franciscan monk, named Charles. (Check out his blog at a minor friar.)
According to his blog, he's a big fan of punk rock.
Gotta love the blogosphere...
Anyway, he talks about what a friend of his calls the "survival of defeatist." Basically, that pessimistic people are better prepared to deal with the trials and tribulations of life because they have already envisioned and thought about those possibilities.
I do not consider myself a pessimist. In fact, I am usually (low-self esteem post of the other day notwithstanding) quite an optimistic person. Never the less, I often *plan* on things going badly, figuring that in this way I am prepared for a poor outcome, and will be better able to deal with it. However, I always *hope for* and *work towards* the best outcome. When questioned about this attitude I say that I always prefer being "pleasantly surprised."
I'm not sure if this has impacted my survivability or not, but it certainly has made me more mentally resilient. I get the challenge of problem solving ways out of negative situations, and I get to put my efforts into working towards more positive outcomes, sometimes avoiding pitfalls that might not have been apparent to me without my problem solving.
I find this proactive and useful. I find it better than pure optimism, which I find somewhat naive; bad things happen, and we can be blindsided by them, anticipate them and do nothing, or plan for them, and hope that we can mitigate their worst effects.
3.07.2007
Neurodiversity and Silver Linings
Ever have a *great NEW* idea only to hear that someone has just published a BOOK on it? I'm sure that we have all had that experience at one time or another. I'm tired of trying to keep up with being fresh. In fact, I am feeling downright STALE.
And I'm working on being ok with it. Being out of the loop, and only having ever presumed to hover *near* it to begin with, I can't hope to be cutting edge in my design. In fact, I think that my need to be new - either in relation to the Jones' (or the Johnson's) or to myself and yesterday - is part of my problem, and my success. UFOs, mess, my hummingbird mind, my cobblestone career; all of it. The first two I strive to deal with, the latter two enrich my life in innumerable ways.
I have heretofore called my hummingbird mind my butterfly brain, and the change is due to Susanne Antonetta. In her 2005 book A Mind Apart, she talks about neurodiversity, and the richness it brings to our culture. She feels that the varied ways of thinking and perceiving the world done by those with various neurological states (ie autism and mental illness) should be preserved, even while we are helping those with said conditions to deal with the less desirable aspects of their neurological states.
I would have to add to her list of states those deliberately induced; those created by trancework and meditation, as well as those produced by various pharmacopias, the latter having been studied extensively in the American 1960's. My foray into said is strictly prescription, and even my current work could be said to spring from this neurodiversity; my mind on antidepressants for my post-partum depression. I have also meditated for years, and the state I can bring myself to is a very creative one; I often enter it by doing my artwork itself, in fact.
Her book is very interesting for two reasons; she describes the thought processes and lives of the neurodiverse (her definition, not mine), and also demonstrates it through her own writing as someone with Bipolar I. (Bipolar I is the classic manic-drepressive illness, while Bipolar II is better known as Seasonal Affective Disorder, or, insultingly, the Winter Blues.) The writing aptly (and sometimes TOO aptly) shows the 'hummingbird mind' she describes. Chapters (I am only about 1/3 through it) range from the sublimely collected and freshly relevant to the disturbingly disjointed.
I can relate. I have Bipolar II, have been dealing with Post-partum depression for going on a year, and have dealt with other episodes of depression my whole life. I also have Fibromyalgia, CFIDS (Chronic Fatigue Immune Dysfunction Syndrome), and sequelae from a Herpes VI brain infection in the late 1990's. My brain proves to me every day that I am among the 'neurodiverse'.
Manic-depression has long been known to the artistic community - the moody darks of the depressions, the up all night working in the studio for days on end manias. I didn't even KNOW that Seasonal Affective Disorder HAD a hypomanic component (not as severe as a true manic episode) in the dog days of July and August. I have spent my share of long nights in the studio and around the campfire during that season, but I have also had most of my interpersonal relationships fall apart at that time of year. I've never done anything fully *rash*, but have obviously acted or thought differently enough to enact change in my life (or have it acted upon me) at that time of year on occaision.
And that is a good thing, mostly. Even finally getting diagnosed with SAD back in college helped, as I didn't understand before that why I always got off to such a bad start on second semester, why I lived in bed, or why I craved the sun more than the rest of us here in New England do in winter. Just *knowing* these things helped me. When my now husband and I went medieval camping in August several years ago (to Pennsic, for the SCA initiated out there), an event that no relationship of mine had *ever* survived intact before, we knew better what we were in for. Getting through it, and having fun doing so, was a joyous event for us; we even got handfasted!
Speaking of disjointed, I was reminded today of the tradition of breaking a glass at Jewish weddings, that we should show our acceptance and understanding that joy is always tempered by loss and sorrow. Such is the life of many of the neurodiverse. Those with organic changes to their brains or neurochemistry often know this - the warm love given by those with Down's, the artistic genius and focus often seen in those with Autism Sprectrum Disorders, the new appreciation for life and those we love felt by many who have dealt with spinal cord injuries or traumatic brain injuries. The rush of energy found in mania, the high and/or feeling better of pharmaceuticals, the peace and insight brought about by meditation. These 'upsides' we know, but - wow - we also know the downsides, obviously. No one wants to lose function or family, no one wants to be an addict or a recluse. That said, thank heavens for the silver lining some of us manage to find.
I wish more of us could find it. Many drugs given as 'treatments' for organic conditions leave a plethora of side effects, often leave some of the symptoms of the illness itself unmitigated, and usually steal that silver lining, if any had been found, completely away. Many folks with Bipolar conditions deliberately stop taking their meds so that they may have their manic moments, and the euphoria and perceived productivity that accompany them. (Bipolar II's hypomania can actually become a problem for the first time if antidepressants are continued during the summer months. Speak to your Doctor before changing ANY medications you are currently taking, obviously!) Functionality is certainly the paramount goal of treatment, but I can see where it would sometimes be desirable to trade a small amount of function to be able to enjoy some of the few benefits that living with these conditions can provide. Perhaps, in the future, treatments will be devised that will allow one to keep the positive 'symptoms' while getting rid of the less pleasant ones.
I think this comes back to my feeling stale. My antidepressants are working well on my post-partum depression, even though it is winter here in Vermont, and my SAD should still be in full force. I am feeling more functional than I have since my second trimester, and I am certainly getting more done than I have in months. One thing though, is SHOT. I am managing to do all sorts of mundane tasks; cleaning, finishing UFOs, etc, but one could never call them *creative.* Even my woodblock was an exercise in technique, and I just grabbed a quilt block pattern to have something to carve.
I am (and my house *certainly* is) at a point where mundane task completion is a GOOD thing, but I have to say that I am missing my *spark.* Maybe that is still to come - depression can kill creativity too, and maybe I just need to continue with my treatment more to be able to recover it; motivation THEN function THEN creativity. I certainly hope so, but I wonder if maybe my meds haven't 'treated' my creativity too, as I remember getting through many of my early days as a mother daydreaming when I couldn't move, and I can't seem to do that now, even as I move with relative ease.
So, for the present, part of the silver lining of my mind is seemingly gone, perhaps in favor of the movement of my body. I'm just going to have to work with this, obviously. I've gotten pretty good at just taking the hand that the day has dealt me as a person with Fibromyalgia; I never know what symptoms I'm going to wake up with, especially when I haven't gotten a full and restful night of sleep (ha!)
Thank heavens the sun is shining... and, believe it or not, but thank heavens that I have a messy house and UFOs to put my hands to while my brain continues to heal.
And I'm working on being ok with it. Being out of the loop, and only having ever presumed to hover *near* it to begin with, I can't hope to be cutting edge in my design. In fact, I think that my need to be new - either in relation to the Jones' (or the Johnson's) or to myself and yesterday - is part of my problem, and my success. UFOs, mess, my hummingbird mind, my cobblestone career; all of it. The first two I strive to deal with, the latter two enrich my life in innumerable ways.
I have heretofore called my hummingbird mind my butterfly brain, and the change is due to Susanne Antonetta. In her 2005 book A Mind Apart, she talks about neurodiversity, and the richness it brings to our culture. She feels that the varied ways of thinking and perceiving the world done by those with various neurological states (ie autism and mental illness) should be preserved, even while we are helping those with said conditions to deal with the less desirable aspects of their neurological states.
I would have to add to her list of states those deliberately induced; those created by trancework and meditation, as well as those produced by various pharmacopias, the latter having been studied extensively in the American 1960's. My foray into said is strictly prescription, and even my current work could be said to spring from this neurodiversity; my mind on antidepressants for my post-partum depression. I have also meditated for years, and the state I can bring myself to is a very creative one; I often enter it by doing my artwork itself, in fact.
Her book is very interesting for two reasons; she describes the thought processes and lives of the neurodiverse (her definition, not mine), and also demonstrates it through her own writing as someone with Bipolar I. (Bipolar I is the classic manic-drepressive illness, while Bipolar II is better known as Seasonal Affective Disorder, or, insultingly, the Winter Blues.) The writing aptly (and sometimes TOO aptly) shows the 'hummingbird mind' she describes. Chapters (I am only about 1/3 through it) range from the sublimely collected and freshly relevant to the disturbingly disjointed.
I can relate. I have Bipolar II, have been dealing with Post-partum depression for going on a year, and have dealt with other episodes of depression my whole life. I also have Fibromyalgia, CFIDS (Chronic Fatigue Immune Dysfunction Syndrome), and sequelae from a Herpes VI brain infection in the late 1990's. My brain proves to me every day that I am among the 'neurodiverse'.
Manic-depression has long been known to the artistic community - the moody darks of the depressions, the up all night working in the studio for days on end manias. I didn't even KNOW that Seasonal Affective Disorder HAD a hypomanic component (not as severe as a true manic episode) in the dog days of July and August. I have spent my share of long nights in the studio and around the campfire during that season, but I have also had most of my interpersonal relationships fall apart at that time of year. I've never done anything fully *rash*, but have obviously acted or thought differently enough to enact change in my life (or have it acted upon me) at that time of year on occaision.
And that is a good thing, mostly. Even finally getting diagnosed with SAD back in college helped, as I didn't understand before that why I always got off to such a bad start on second semester, why I lived in bed, or why I craved the sun more than the rest of us here in New England do in winter. Just *knowing* these things helped me. When my now husband and I went medieval camping in August several years ago (to Pennsic, for the SCA initiated out there), an event that no relationship of mine had *ever* survived intact before, we knew better what we were in for. Getting through it, and having fun doing so, was a joyous event for us; we even got handfasted!
Speaking of disjointed, I was reminded today of the tradition of breaking a glass at Jewish weddings, that we should show our acceptance and understanding that joy is always tempered by loss and sorrow. Such is the life of many of the neurodiverse. Those with organic changes to their brains or neurochemistry often know this - the warm love given by those with Down's, the artistic genius and focus often seen in those with Autism Sprectrum Disorders, the new appreciation for life and those we love felt by many who have dealt with spinal cord injuries or traumatic brain injuries. The rush of energy found in mania, the high and/or feeling better of pharmaceuticals, the peace and insight brought about by meditation. These 'upsides' we know, but - wow - we also know the downsides, obviously. No one wants to lose function or family, no one wants to be an addict or a recluse. That said, thank heavens for the silver lining some of us manage to find.
I wish more of us could find it. Many drugs given as 'treatments' for organic conditions leave a plethora of side effects, often leave some of the symptoms of the illness itself unmitigated, and usually steal that silver lining, if any had been found, completely away. Many folks with Bipolar conditions deliberately stop taking their meds so that they may have their manic moments, and the euphoria and perceived productivity that accompany them. (Bipolar II's hypomania can actually become a problem for the first time if antidepressants are continued during the summer months. Speak to your Doctor before changing ANY medications you are currently taking, obviously!) Functionality is certainly the paramount goal of treatment, but I can see where it would sometimes be desirable to trade a small amount of function to be able to enjoy some of the few benefits that living with these conditions can provide. Perhaps, in the future, treatments will be devised that will allow one to keep the positive 'symptoms' while getting rid of the less pleasant ones.
I think this comes back to my feeling stale. My antidepressants are working well on my post-partum depression, even though it is winter here in Vermont, and my SAD should still be in full force. I am feeling more functional than I have since my second trimester, and I am certainly getting more done than I have in months. One thing though, is SHOT. I am managing to do all sorts of mundane tasks; cleaning, finishing UFOs, etc, but one could never call them *creative.* Even my woodblock was an exercise in technique, and I just grabbed a quilt block pattern to have something to carve.
I am (and my house *certainly* is) at a point where mundane task completion is a GOOD thing, but I have to say that I am missing my *spark.* Maybe that is still to come - depression can kill creativity too, and maybe I just need to continue with my treatment more to be able to recover it; motivation THEN function THEN creativity. I certainly hope so, but I wonder if maybe my meds haven't 'treated' my creativity too, as I remember getting through many of my early days as a mother daydreaming when I couldn't move, and I can't seem to do that now, even as I move with relative ease.
So, for the present, part of the silver lining of my mind is seemingly gone, perhaps in favor of the movement of my body. I'm just going to have to work with this, obviously. I've gotten pretty good at just taking the hand that the day has dealt me as a person with Fibromyalgia; I never know what symptoms I'm going to wake up with, especially when I haven't gotten a full and restful night of sleep (ha!)
Thank heavens the sun is shining... and, believe it or not, but thank heavens that I have a messy house and UFOs to put my hands to while my brain continues to heal.
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