For the past two weeks, my attention has been distracted from the studio. ”Paid” work tempted me… And I succumbed. Not my proudest moment. My studio desk sat neglected, a constant reminder of the stress and anxiety brewing in the back of my skull without an outlet.
Luckily, I stumbled across a short little article written by the renowned sculptor Louise Nevelson, titled “Rightness of My Being,” which called me to account and chastised me for my loss of focus:
Well, I know that I had [the rightness of my being, a mind for what I need], and I also knew I had the energy of many people. I’ve always had it. So I’m prolific to begin with; but I’m also prolific because I know how to use time. I prepare my materials for the next day… I go to the studio, and usually I put in pretty much of a big day… When I finish, I come in and go to sleep if I’m tired, have something to eat. Time as such doesn’t involve me. (emphasis added)
I am certainly not the only overworked artist who struggles to balance a self-imposed (and overly critical) sense of “productivity” with the necessary flexibility, freedom, quiet, and solitude of creative time. Energy isn’t an issue; ideas aren’t the issue. The issue is setting aside at least 3 hours per day to sit at a desk without pressure, deadlines, force, expectations. Trusting that cultivating an organic and playful studio practice is a worthwhile activity in-and-of itself. Not the easiest mindset to internalize when for years, we were taught as students to workworkworkworkwork. Neverstop. Keepaddingthoselinestoaresume. Succeedsucceedsucceed. BETHEBEST!
Perhaps the solution is unabashed narcissism. ”Time as such doesn’t involve me.” Genius.
Nevelson also continues to squelch the judgmental censor-self by completely ignoring any negative thoughts that enter her mind:
I won’t permit a thought to enter into my consciousness if I don’t feel it’s a healthy thought… I have for myself, for me…
It’s been my experience that the times I feel the most insecure about the “validity” and “value” of my artwork is when I am not spending enough time in the studio. The more time I spend creating, the less time I have to judge what I create. Not only am I more fulfilled when I am creating, but I also have too caught up in logistics for how a piece needs to come together to worry about how other people feel about my work.
I love to see my work move and be placed. I don’t need it around me because I don’t want my mind to be cluttered. I want my mind to be open and clear to do the next work.
And, just like Nevelson, most of my time in the studio is spent simply emptying my head of a past idea that has been growing because I can feel the next one germinating. After all, each idea needs plenty of room to grow to its full potential. As soon as I stop giving myself enough time to empty my brain of past ideas, the entire ecosystem becomes tangled and difficult to manage. The stress in the rest of my life becomes more pronounced and weighty. My patience wains, my appetite increases, and my smiles diminish. You’d think I’d have learned better by now…
But tomorrow is a new day. And it holds promise. The promise of time. Of a welcoming typewriter. Of a scattered set of pencils. Of ideas eager to be released. And when I sit down at my desk with my cup of tea, I will transform into this:
What a baller.
