• About Judith A. Ross

Shifting Gears

Shifting Gears

Monthly Archives: June 2012

Where Do Ideas Come From?

25 Monday Jun 2012

Posted by judithar321 in art, inspiration, writing

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

artists, Chuck Close, creativity, fine art, intention, Kathleen Volp, Manos Studio, pottery, Sally Mann, Sophia Ainslie

My fascination with creativity started at our kitchen table, where I’d sit across from my grandfather, both of us drawing. One day, while I worked with my pencil and crayons, he painted a landscape on the back of an old shirt box. I don’t know what happened to it, but I still have this one that he painted on canvas.

Painting by Jacob Scheinfein

Back then all I cared about was my inability to make “realistic” drawings. Too bad he didn’t tell me (or maybe he did and I don’t remember) that making art is much more about perseverance and hard work than it is about innate talent and inspiration.

As artist Chuck Close says, “ Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just show up and get to work.”

Practice may not always make perfect, but it does put you on the road to creation. It helps you figure out what you like to do and helps you develop skills and goals. If my grandfather were alive today, I’d ask him, Why that house, those mountains, that tree? Does the scene on canvas match the one in your head? Was there a message behind it? What were you thinking about when you took out your paints and got to work? What was your intention?

A few weeks ago, this video of designer Karin Eriksson at work in her pottery studio, captured my attention. In it, Eriksson seems both deliberate and intentional as she measures out her lump of clay, places it on her wheel, and goes to work. She knows what form she wants that lump of clay to take and how to get it there.

In this case, I’m guessing, the form is already designed — we don’t see if any “rejects” or “seconds” come out of her kiln — and so this video is about process and control, not about what went on in her head when she made the prototype for these pieces. Perhaps this work was executed exactly as planned, but it also may be the result of trial and error or happy accident.

For photographer Sally Mann, accidents are part of the plan. She captures her images using old cameras, faulty lenses, and prints them using the wet-plate collodion process. The resulting photographs have streaks, dust spots, and other “imperfections.” She likes the element of the unexpected that her process engenders. As she says in this clip, “I feel I’m at the whim of the angel of chance because all these wonderful things happen on the plates.”

Last year, when I interviewed artist Sophia Ainslie, she said that in some of her work, “… accident was an important part of the process.” But even when your goal is specificity and deliberation, you have to work with mistakes, “If the mark happens to be in the wrong place—whatever that may mean—,” Ainslie told me, “then you’ve got to run with it and make it right.”

When putting my own ideas down on paper — as opposed to writing up an interview, for example — I may have a broad sense of what I want to say, a tiny kernel of an idea, or even just a feeling to build on, and the bulk of the piece comes while I’m writing  and rewriting it. As Chuck Close suggests, I often don’t discover where I’m going until I get to work.

Sometimes I’m hit by that hyperbolic “bolt of lightening” that puts me in “the zone,” and the words seem to flow of their own accord. But that rarely happens.

The other morning my friend Kathleen told me that she has so many ideas that she is having a hard time settling on a direction for an upcoming show. Then the next day she reported that she’d just spent a whole day working on a new piece only to be disappointed with the outcome.

I tried to remind her that this always happens when she’s starting a project. And then I joked that as a writer, when I’m not satisfied, I can just hit the “delete” button. She didn’t laugh. For artists, the cost of rebooting is much more than frustration and dejection — the materials they use are expensive.

Here is some of her work-in- progress.

Photo and artwork by Kathleen Volp

In their tiny gem of a book, Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking David Bayles & Ted Orland caution that, “The function of the overwhelming majority of your artwork is simply to teach you how to make the small fraction of your artwork that soars. One of the basic and difficult lessons every artist must learn is that even the failed pieces are essential.”

Frustrating but true for all of us, whether we express ourselves through music, words, or images. As Kathleen says, “It’s all about bringing your own voice to your work. You have to be clear and be true to that voice.”

Doing so is hard work. It is painful, messy, and frustrating. But it is also satisfying, affirming, and just plain wonderful.

So, artists, photographers, writers, musicians and bloggers, 

  • Where do your ideas come from?
  • How much of your creation is about controlling your medium and how much is about overcoming obstacles and setting yourself free?

Discuss!

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Karina’s Walk

17 Sunday Jun 2012

Posted by judithar321 in environment, friendship, pets, writing

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

environment, fairyland, fashion, MomsCleanAirForce, Thoreau's woods, Walden woods, work

When I wasn’t working at the store this week, I was writing a book review and a piece on air pollution.

And then there was that password-protected Father’s Day tribute. Sorry, but I didn’t want to  a.) gross you out with my sentimentality or b.) bore you with cute pictures of my kids, who most of you don’t even know. But husband loved it and that’s what counts.

Just so you don’t think I’m lying about all the busyness, here I am at my retail job. See? Busy, busy, busy.

Anyway, because I didn’t have time to write a post this week, Karina has graciously agreed to give you a tour of “her” woods.

Click on the arrow and she’ll lead you in.

Protected: To My Husband on Father’s Day (Sentimentality Alert)

16 Saturday Jun 2012

Posted by judithar321 in uncategorized

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Inside Sakonnet Garden

06 Wednesday Jun 2012

Posted by judithar321 in art, inspiration, meditation, travel

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

friendship, gardening, photography, Sakonnet Garden

Before this week of rain I’d been putting some hard labor into our back garden, digging up ferns with root systems that were crowding out other, more delicate plants. Husband pitched in too. Not one to mess around, he made short work of the ferns using a hand axe.

As a reward for my labors and to seek a bit of inspiration, I joined my friend Cheryl in Little Compton, Rhode Island, where we visited Sakonnet Garden.

While it was cloudy and drizzling when I left Concord, the weather in Little Compton featured clear blue skies and a warm sun.

The two of us wandered through a series of garden rooms, chatting and taking pictures. Sakonnet garden is like a well-designed house.

There are a variety of ceiling heights. You enter down a long “hallway” and then feel a sense of release as you enter the first room.

There are a variety of wall treatments

And they’ve furnished the place using a wide array of textures

These ferns aren’t posing any problems

And because it feels so much like a house, visitors misplace keys and glasses just like they do at home.

My friend Cheryl is a skilled photographer. You can see her magical vision of the garden here.

You can only visit the garden during its Open Days. The next one is on Saturday, June 9.

Contemplating a Mid-Life Migration

04 Monday Jun 2012

Posted by judithar321 in adult children, aging, environment, friendship, mid-life transition, travel, writing

≈ 18 Comments

Tags

bird watching, Concord MA, David Byrne, empty nest, friendship, marriage, moving in mid-life, retirement, work

Last weekend we shared homemade pizza with friends on our back deck while a great blue heron sailed overhead. Throughout the course of the meal, we heard orioles singing and saw flashes of orange as they flitted across the yard between their nest in the willow tree and the fruit trees in our garden. A grosbeak, hummingbirds, and various other winged residents also made appearances as they went about their evening business.

When you aren’t confronted by the ticks, poison ivy, and mosquitoes, and don’t have to cut the grass, weed the garden, or shovel the driveway when you’d rather be doing something else, this place can feel like paradise.

We moved to Concord almost 20 years ago, and Paul and I still remember a day that first spring when we looked out a window to see our 10-year-old son trailing a pheasant across the back lawn, nearly stepping on the end of its long, sweeping tail.

Our pheasant-follower and his younger brother grew up here. They went to school here. And now they have both moved on to make their own homes and create their own exciting adventures. And as hard it will be to leave this house and yard behind, Paul and I are ready to move on too.

At least we think we are.

In an ideal world, we could create an oasis like this one in the middle of some city. A city that has sidewalks, public transportation, and a rich cultural life —all things that are missing and are sorely missed in our current location.

I want diverse neighbors, a corner store, a local cafe, and a bit of nightlife. I’d love to attend a movie or a concert and then walk home afterward while discussing what we’ve just seen or heard.

In his recent op-ed piece for The New York Times about New York City’s new bike-share program, David Byrne captured my idealized version of city living as he described the different routes he takes on his bike to pick up groceries, commute to work, or visit friends. And he talked about making his home in the big city.

“I just turned 60 and have no plans to retire to the suburbs,” he writes. “I love it here.”

“That’s what I want,” I thought. “A place I can fall in love with, a place that stimulates my intellect and fosters my creativity.”

But then, just below his paean to urban life was another op-ed by his daughter, Malu, who described the optimal environments of young artists like herself who have left the city because of its high cost and many distractions.

“I might have to escape New York to keep my artistic spirit alive,” she writes.

Somewhere between Byrne’s viewpoint and that of his daughter lies the crux of my dilemma. I want the bustle and excitement of the city but not the noise. I want to be able to move around freely even when—especially when — I am too old to drive, but worry that the constant press of people will grate on my introvert soul.

While any place that Paul and I are together will feel like home, I also want to find  my own niche. I want to write in my office and then meet friends for coffee at a neighborhood cafe, or spend the afternoon wandering around a nearby museum.

I know that there is no ideal place, there are only places that you make idyllic. Paul and I will take a few trips, and maybe someplace will click for both of us. Maybe no place will, and we’ll decide that this is the only home we want.

In the meantime, it’s fun to weigh our options and examine the possibilities. That’s the joy of being middle aged. Even with financial restrictions, we are as free as we’ll ever be to do what we want.

I will be sad when/if we leave this house and town that has become so familiar and where we have lived so much life. And I’ll miss those birds. But I’m also ready to follow their example. Yes, they return every spring, but in the fall they leave that empty nest without hesitation. They move forward.

A blog about travels near and far, daily life, and issues that are bigger than all of us.

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