Studio Habits

The Artist In His Studio by Rembrandt Van Rijn

Spent much of today on the road - driving to work, taking the bus downtown, and then taking the train home. Probably 3 hours of my day was spent in transit, feeling impatient about being in transit. Got home and promptly crawled into bed for a half hour, where I lay in half sleep, feeling too exhausted to feed my mewing kitty and my hungry self.

Days like these, whipped by rain and cold, are especially hard on the soul. This is why I now sit writing with a giant bowl of rice and stir fry next to me. Comfort food to comfort the soul.

The soul. Some days it lives so effervescently, full of life and light. Other days the light goes out and the soul goes into hiding. It seems like nothing can call it out of its hole except special foods or the warm touch of loving hands.

I love that I've rediscovered writing again. Sometimes it just comes in phases and I cannot control when I want to write and when I don't want to. Lately, it feels like a lot of thoughts are stuck in my head and need to get out. Maybe it's because the art outlet is blocked.

Studio habits of the artist is so important to the art making process. Some artists work on a regular schedule. Others work erratically in bursts of energy. Either way, it's work, and it has to be done. I'm still trying to balance a full work day with studio hours. Sometimes I feel it is impossible. And other days I find extra bursts of energy to head out into the evening and into the studio where I work alone in the vast silence.

Much of art making is like throwing stones into a dark pond. You can't see the ripples but you can hear the water lapping. You're not quire sure where the stone has gone, but you know it has been cast, and you wait for the waves to move across the surface of the pond and eventually reach the shore. Much of it feels like it is in vain, and it is very lonely work. It gets you thinking why you are even throwing this metaphoric stone? What is the meaning of this act? Except that it is inborn and automatic, and that you must throw this stone from time to time or go mad.

After a full day of work at the office, when I've interacted with many people, it is a strange shift to go into an empty room and be still with myself. In some ways, social media is prohibitive of the creative process, because it populates a virtual space with people, and it takes up room in your mental process when you actually have to be alone to produce work. This is why I probably need to take another break from social media in November, so I can focus on myself and refinding that solitude which I need to produce work.

Some people are really good at blocking out the world when they work. I am easily distracted and find it hard to focus when I know there are exciting news on social media or things I should find out. The little red status update number that pops up next to my Facebook app calls to me like a siren, and I respond by mindlessly tapping on the app for more updates to feed my curiosity. Sometimes it isn't even curiosity but just a restless mental boredom, and social media becomes mental junk food that fills my ennui.

When I get home from work, there is a tipping point at which I will decide not to walk to my studio. And that tipping point is around 6:30 p.m. This is why if I don't get home until 6 p.m., it is really hard for me to unwind enough for me to start dressing for the studio. I think if I were to schedule models to meet at the studio by 7 p.m., I'd have to hustle out the door. Necessity drives all invention, and social obligations can also drive art.

An artist I met over the weekend remarked that she schedules one show a year for herself. She said otherwise she'd never make any work. The deadline forces her to produce. I've never had a solo show, and I'm very curious about setting a deadline for myself this year. I can say that life gets in the way, and that I must change certain circumstances before I am comfortable making art. But the reality is that each act of art making is accumulating to something bigger. Like saving money. It is hard work to save money and to be on a budget. And no matter how much you save, some goes out the door when emergencies arise. But trying to save is the difference between those with money and those without.

So I must try with art making. To have the resolution and say "no matter what happens in my life, I will try to make art whenever I can with whatever time I have." Would this be enough? Will it be the difference between an artistic life and one without art? To quote Rilke on the impulse of making art: "ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I... And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple "I must," then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse."

And with this, I'm off to the studio.