Green Glass

Being in the Herd, Meandering Away Part II

 Yesterday I began this post topic by sort of reviewing what I'd been doing recently and where I am currently in terms of what my production is focused on.  But when I began the post, I had a thread of another thought in my mind that didn't get developed but didn't get broken off either, and so here is part II.

    I love classes because of the opportunities they provide.  Teachers work hard to prepare material that interests them in a format that they hope will be understandable, manageable, accessible, accomplishable (and other ables) for their students.  They figure out how to do this in classrooms in hotels (with or without keys/switches/plugs/water access).  They do this over the internet having to master networking platforms and make them accessible to their potential students.  They do all these things to entice people like me to take their classes.  

    And we love these classes.  I haven't had a chance to go to a real life breathing art retreat workshop (but I have done quilting retreats and workshops years ago) but I have jumped into the on-line classes.  And lo and behold there is this wealth of information spread out before me in a format that actually suits the constraints of my actual life. Actually!!!  And then there are these other people who sign up and do their fantastic work and I GET TO PEEK!  I mean, who came up with this?!

    So I'm loving the classes a little too much.  I have become part of the grazing herd that move from one workshop/retreat to another.  There is nothing wrong with the herd.  I like the herd.  BUT ..

    But

    I'm a Quaker.  I'm not a very good Quaker, not a modal Quaker, so I only bring this up because we use these term - centering.  (I believe several other denominations use the same word or concept - this is not a unique thing.)  As I understand centering, it is when you quiet your mind, your thoughts, your emotions, your body, and you center yourself on being open to the presence of God.  That by stilling the water, and listening in total open patient receptiveness, you maybe able to hear the still small voice of God.   At least that's the idea as I understand it and as I practice it.  Centering is creating a whole collected calm peaceful moment of attention.  Well, hopefully a few moments.  But our minds distract easily.  We have obligations. Thoughts jump up, images appear.

    But while taking all these classes, I lost my center.  Which might not be a bad thing.  I think being off center can open the possibility for something new to enter.  But the classes weren't the cause of my off-centered-ness.  

    So

    I am working this last week and weekend (even with soccer going on around me) on finding my artistic center again.  Maybe wondering if I have an artistic center, and if I don't, what it might be starting to look like.  

    So I am meandering away from my herd, even for a moment.  I think I need to center myself while I look at what I'm doing in these two classes and think about how they apply to me, what I want and which direction I need to go.  And I think I will only figure that out if I get a little more quiet, in both my thoughts and my actions.  

    So next week may be light on text.  But I do like to pop up pictures of what I'm working on.  After all, they are the perfect metaphor for me - a work in progress.

    

Pausing

No pictures and not a lot of words.  Today I got away from the house and went for a much needed walk. At the turn around spot, I pulled out my little current journal and a Pental Pocket Brush Pen (PPBP) and played a little.  Despite my best intentions, I've been so wrapped up in the on-line classes I'm taking, I've gotten away from my PPBP and even the little bit of doddling and twirling I did with it, playing with the line width and the wonderful flow of ink, made me feel happy and peaceful and glad.  That's really all I have to say, and nothing to show.  If you haven't recently, pick up a tool you really enjoy and just play with it for a few minutes.  How could that not make it a better day?

Thinking about Sketchbooks and Visual Journaling

    I was reading over at Daisy Yellow, and Tammy responded to a question someone asked her about her approach to sketchbooks, supplies, and the practice of journaling.  I could really relate to the question because I'm so new to sketching/sketchbooks/visual journaling myself.  The question and Tammy's answer made me think of this past year and how what I'm doing now relates to what I was doing a year ago. 

    When I started my art journey, I fixated on the materials - which paints did this artist use?  Which kind of ink?  What was the paper she was using.  I felt very silly and at the same time, couldn't shake that curiosity.  Now, looking back, I think it served a function for me.  Were I taking a class, the teacher would have supplied a syllabus with a supplies list.  I would have had a discrete set of tools to begin work with, and my exploration would have had boundaries that gave me some structure to begin.  Now, I know that there are many people who just jump in with what's on hand and create amazing work.  They fit the tools to their vision.  Or they develop techniques based on what they have available.   I know all that.  But I can't say I'm one of those people.  I REALLY like structure.  I REALLY like a sense of boundaries, especially when I am learning in a new area.   

    What I think now is that fixating on the supplies was a way of giving myself boundaries, giving myself a supplies list.   As I continue, and specifically as I begin to understand the nature of the various tools and how they work (if only in the most basic sense), I find myself relaxing about having the "right" paint or pencil or paper.  I am starting to be more comfortable with using what I want.  I guess, I'm actually starting to having a sense of what I like.  

    I find this all very exciting, even if I'm still producing very elementary sketches.  And I'm beginning to be kinder to myself about my beginners approach.  Why is it we can be supportive of other peoples new efforts, and so critical of our own?  

    Last week I finished a sketchbook.  I knew I would be participating in International Fake Journal Month, and I knew in that book I would be doing mostly sketches with pencil and/or pen.  So I had gotten out one of the duct tape journals I made recently.  I thought it would be a good time to try better quality waterpower for the little series of studies I'd been doing.  However, when I got the paper out, I hated it.  I went from really really enjoying my little sketches, and feeling like I was really following an good line of practice for myself, to not liking what I was doing at all.  But I had decided.  It took me a couple days, and several sessions with that watercolor paper before I let myself stop.  I got out the exact same kind of journal I'd just finished and immediately, I began enjoying my sketches again.  

    Now, at a different time or place, this might be "playing it safe" or something.  But for me, right now, there isn't much safe territory.  What I like about what I'm doing is that I had challenged myself to use some art supplies that I'd bought a long time ago, and hadn't really enjoyed.  What I found was that by limiting myself to a few supplies, I really had a chance to experiment.  I have found myself pushing myself to use them in ways that I wasn't comfortable with before (I really really don't like messes).  

    This is the kind of thing I wanted to do when I started last year.   I wanted to be exploring color and line and silencing my internal critic (Am I doing it Right yet?)   It's taken me a while to get here, but reading the questions over at Daisy Yellow, I'm thrilled to discover this is where I have landed.  

    I know that tomorrow I may be frustrated.  But maybe, just maybe, I'll have another good day.