I’m a woman entering menopause. This means that – among other things – I don’t have the seemingly endless energy that I did just a few years ago, so I need to be very efficient with the energy I do have. First I’d like to make the distinction between creative energy and productive energy. Creative energy is required to come up with new ideas, while productive energy is what we need to execute our already familiar processes. Productive energy is more easily replenished by taking care of the body, and in my experience, if I enter the studio low in this type of energy, by JUST STARTING, things begin to flow. I’ll likely write about how I access and replenish my creative energy in a future post. But for this post, the topic is having an insurance policy for the times when the creative well has run dry. This is where a sketchbook comes in. I treat my sketchbook like a journal – not meant for reading or viewing by anyone else but me. It’s more messy and embarassing than I’d prefer, because my drawing skills are sorely underdeveloped (this image is one of the more developed spreads that I’m willing to share). Drawing well is not the point of my sketchbook, just as writing well is not the point of my journal. It is to capture IDEAS, adequate enough to bring them back to mind, or spark another related idea. This is invaluable for me during times of low creative energy. I flip through my sketchbook, looking first at those pages I’ve flagged because there are some interesting ideas on them. Sometimes that is enough to get the juices flowing for a new composition, form or embossing plate design. At other times, going back to pages from an artistic period I’ve moved on from, I find some new perspective on a motif or shape that I did not see before, and it is brought back to life again, in a reincarnated form. The other way I use my sketchbook is similar to what Natalie Goldberg recommends in her book, “Writing Down the Bones”, and Julia Cameron’s Morning Pages – a method for cleaning out the mental pipes so that the clear creative waters can flow. And from that process too, some ideas worthy of exploration can be recorded. This is why I think of my sketchbook as a savings account. When I’ve got no creative juice, those deposits made are there for me, collecting interest, and ready to be cashed in when I need them most.
Author: lorielling
reflections on light
The art I’ve been consuming online lately has been largely connected with light in different ways. First, lighted sculptures & lamp designs, and second, stained glass windows. I’ll explore the former here and the latter in a future post. Last month I picked up a box of translucent porcelain with the intention of exploring forms that will be lit in some way. Could be desktop, hanging or wall mounted, I’m open. The forms will dictate where they’ll live as they develop; I won’t control that. At the forefront is bringing back this idea from years ago when I was working with plastic assemblages. This one particular sculpture is the starting inspiration: The photo is very poor quality; this was from a time when I didn’t document my work very well. But, there are several intrigueing aspects of this piece, for me. One is that the construction technique might lend well to the vision that is still forming for this work. Another is that this new body of work could be a conglomeration of ‘units’ like in this plastic sculpture, or it could be one unit, zoomed in and developed. I might play with the latter first and see where that goes. Composition will be another big driving force. Light and shadow both dramatically change how the composition appears, and so they will act as key players in the designs, which will essentially be of two characters – with light and shadow present, and without. How will this work and not be flat or disjointed in one of these modes? TBD… As for form, I keep thinking about Poul Christainsen. I grew up seeing one of his Le Klint hanging lights in my Danish grandparents’ home, along with their Danish furniture and ceramics. They were people of great taste! In any case, Poul’s geometric forms are examples of the guiding principles that infuse my current visions for the project. How these three – form, composition, and construction – will come together, may take a while, but I’m excited to play and discover some interesting work, partnering with light. Photo source: Poul Christainsen, 40 years with Le Klint, https://poulchristiansen.com/
marketing and musing
Marketing as an artist requires me to take off the Maker hat and put on the Sales hat. These hats each have their own intentions, styles and even language. When I post on Instagram, often it is while wearing the Maker hat, and there is no Call-to-Action, no link to my Etsy shop, no request for patronage. Those posts are partially about documenting my evolution as a maker — for myself, and any interested voyeurs — but also to entice potential voyeurs to peek inside a part of that iterative process, and get curious with me. Lately this has felt more and more solitary. Despite garnering Likes ™, the impression of not being seen – or more to the point – read, is palpable. More and more I’m craving some connection, with other artists, makers, artistic voyeurs, and creative afficianados. Putting on the Maker hat and turning on the Musing tap feeds me, but I want to bring that to a pot luck with others. Where are my others? I have a lot to say about the art I’m making, mostly questions, actually. Not questions for you, or even for me, but for a very clear, solid and elusive voice that whispers certainties to me from time to time. It’s a relationship with the owner of this voice that grows wider, deeper, or murkier when I’m in the studio or writing with the Maker hat on. My job is to be an obedient, skilled listener, adept at filtering out any other voices that like to masquerade. A great deal of my Musings will explore this relationship — or quest for it — and you’re welcome to hop in my sidecar, while I follow the threads. I’ll even tell you the story about when one of my paintings turned into a stark mirror, and I heard a prophecy that came true. One day, I’ll tell you that story.