In making art you need to give yourself room to respond
authentically,
both to your subject matter and to your materials.
Art happens between you and
something —
a subject, an idea, a technique —
and both you and that something
need to be free to move....
Control, apparently, is not the answer.
People who need certainty in their lives are less likely to make art
that is risky, subversive, complicated, iffy, suggestive or spontaneous.
What's really needed is nothing more than a broad sense of
what you are looking for,
some strategy to find it,
and an overriding willingness to embrace mistakes
and surprises along the way.
Simply put, making art is chancy — it doesn't mix
well with predictability.
Uncertainty is the essential, inevitable and all-pervasive companion to
your desire
to make art. And tolerance of uncertainty
is the prerequisite to succeeding.
by David Bayles &
Ted Orland,
Art & fear
Observations on the Perils
(and Rewards) of Artmaking
1993, The Image Continuum
XVIII
The hardest part of being creative is getting used to it.
Tuco read the news article, "Two years ago,
Sophia Schroeder had the best birthday of her life.
She stood on frozen Lake Erie near this town on South Bass Island and
ate ice cream.
Her father dragged her sled across the ice behind his snowmobile."
"Later they ate birthday cake around a huge bonfire built right on the
ice.
'That was my favorite birthday party ever,' said Sophia, now 7."
"This year, Sophia spent her birthday inside,
playing video games with
friends.
'It's really boring here without ice,' she said...."
It's boring without ice?
The thought disturbed him. Rattled reality.
He looked across the desert floor before him.
He watched the distant hint of clouds
and pondered the prospect of rain.
Drops, even just the smell of rain that evaporates a thousand feet up.
He tried to imagine a bonfire on ice.
Wondered what it might smell like — whether pine or mesquite was best.
What would it smell like? No water flooding from the fire?
Pooling at his feet.
Hard to imagine.
Arlu had grownup in snow country,
maybe she'd know.
But he knew
even Arlu couldn't conjure rain on this valley this spring —
let alone ice
chilling a bonfire built
beneath the desert sun
to summon spring rains,
water seeded from distant clouds
like they say they do in Wyoming —
making rain
fall
where it used to
years ago.
Tuco turns
and takes the breakfast plate,
now empty,
inside.
Time to wash dishes
and begin this iceless day,
this nice, though dry, spring day.
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