springs and wells

Kitty!

2008-01-21T02:16:00.000-08:00

Nonviolent Communication as it relates to Art-Making

2007-04-13T20:32:00.000-07:00

This week I went to a very interesting workshop with Marshall Rosenburg, the creator of "Nonviolent Communication." Nonviolent Communication is a method of mindful communication, aimed at reducing anger, guilt, blame, and judgment. It's quite interesting.

Many thought-provoking points were made, but a few things caught my attention in relationship to art and art-making.

Nonviolent Communication places emphasis on hearing the needs and feelings behind a person's word - rather than focusing on the words. For example, if someone says "You rotten jerk!" - rather than hearing an insult or personal affront, you focus on hearing that the person is feeling angry. Interesting quote: "When you are hearing the needs and feelings of someone else, you won't hear anything about yourself."

All of this reminds me of art making, and of Geoffrey's comment of Steven Larose's blog recently - that he has the quote "It's not a face" written above his portrait painting area. Of course, the subject matter of art work is a source of potential power and emphasis - but the feelings and needs held in one's heart while making the work will shine through regardless of the subject matter. Personally, I think this is especially true with painting and drawing. This explains why a Jasper Johns painting of numbers can still be evocative. Or why a Van Gogh painting of a field can be tortuous.

Another interesting quote from the workshop "People often know what they want to say, but have no idea what they want in return." NVC encourages people to follow up statements of feelings/needs with specific requests. For example, "I feel frustrated when you leave your dishes on the table. Would you please take your dish to the sink?" (compared with "You always leave your dishes out!"). That's a banal example, but it's an interesting point in relation to art-making.

It's so important to know not only what you want to say with your art, but what sort of response you want to get. Who is our target audience, and how do we want them to respond to our work? What action do we want to request of them? What are we trying to say, to whom, and why?

One last thing: More than once, Mr. Rosenburg said something along the lines of "Speak your truth in a way that people receive it as a gift." Isn't that a nice dictum for making art?

Change Is Possible!

2007-04-09T21:56:00.000-07:00

I really really believe in the capacity for change. It seems like there are a lot of cultural messages like "people don't change" or "you can't teach an old dog new tricks" and just a general malaise about the capacit for people to evolve and change.

But then again, I feel like I've changed so much (thank goodness!) - and I've also been given the beautiful opportunity of watching others change and evolve. This is a particularly inspiring and rewarding part of teaching yoga - observing the growth of people in my classes.

Last week I was at class with my teacher, and we were working on a pose that has always been very hard (read: impossible) and scary for me. I see other people do it, and I can't even imagine it in my body - it really seems unimaginable. But, of course, I try anyway. And then there it was - this week it was notably lighter, more comfortable, available. Still not quite there, but suddenly visible on the horizon.

I popped up and exclaimed "Wow! Change IS possible!"

I LOVE this about yoga. It is a practice that helps you observe the possibilty for change. It gives you the chance to see tangible results of change. And, of course, it literally helps you change. The poses are just an outward result of what's changing internally. And then, when I have an experience like this - it reminds me that all people in the world are capable of change. They won't necessarily change, but they certainly could. It's such a feeling of relief, possibility, humanity.

Incidentally, that's a picture of a shedded snake skin. In case you were wondering.

His Majesty King Bhumipol Adulyadej of Thailand

2007-03-31T23:32:00.000-07:00

My latest painting. I may tweak the background a tiny bit more, but it's basically complete. It's amazing how some of these youngsters just creep into my consciousness and the painting comes out so easily. Other times it can be quite an effort of endurance. This one just took a couple days... Such an enchanting expression in his eyes - quite hard to read.

The Secret of Vulnerability

2007-03-28T23:10:00.000-07:00

Some thoughts on vulnerability & intimacy... which have surfaced in the last few days:

Do you know that feeling of when you first try to shift the tone of your relationship with someone? Like when I first started talking to my parents about my yoga practice - it required me to have a tone of voice and an emotional quality that I was not used to having in their company. Now, it is natural and comfortable to share that space with them... but that first move is always risky. Yoga has been a guide for me in this way, because it is so important to me that I feel compelled to honor it - with my tone, my language, and the quality of my presence. This sense of importance and sacredness helps me find the courage to take the risk, and share this vibration of myself with others.

Yoga has opened my heart to a different way of being - a way of being intimate and honest and present. At first, in the early years of my practice, this felt like a VERY private space - and I was very protective of it. Almost like nudity. On occassion, a teacher would ask our class to do a partner pose - helping one another in a pose - and this was the first time that I was called upon to actively maintain this heart quality in the company and contact of others. It was easier with some of my classmates and quite difficult with others. I also found working in a large office to be a fine opportunity to apply the principles and qualities of yoga... with all the various personalities. In the last 5 years or so, my experience teaching yoga has been an especially good guide in learning to share this space with others.

Recently a study was released, in which three situations were created:

1) two strangers were introduced, and told that they both liked a certain person

2) two strangers were introduced, and told that they both disliked a certain person

3) two strangers were introduced, and given no guidance on what to talk about

Who felt the closest bond? Those who liked the same person reported some new sense of kinship compared to those given nothing to go on, but those who shared a dislike for someone particular felt the strongest bond of the three groups. "The common enemy" theory.

We all know that pain and tragedy create bonds. Here in Santa Cruz, when the big earthquake of 1989 happened, our community felt a strong sense of cohesion and connection. In early phases of a romantic relationship, partners will often share their various stories of pain and suffering as a way to build intimacy and connection. I recently overheard two people doing just this, while on a date together.

I realize, in retrospect, that I have in the past connected these phenomena of pain and connection - unintentionally and unconsciously. When I felt a lack of connection, I created painful situations in a desperate attempt to build bonds again. But when I overheard that couple, I realized that sometime in the last few years, I had gradually left that approach behind.

The painful situations do create bonds, because they are real and they help us bring to light the true priorities of our hearts. But now I see that there is a way to build the bonds of intimacy, to enter the space of vulnerability and honesty that is based in the joy of life - not just the pain of life. Even the joy of the pain of life. If that makes sense. The connection is the joy. So, I am exploring this now - creating clear and honest spaces of intimacy that are based in love and courage.

This month, in my yoga classes, I have been discussing the theme of "sukha" or "joy." I selected this theme, because I was feeling a need for more joy in my practice. Sometime last week, as I was practicing, and thinking on this idea of joy, a new "mantra" occured to me: "Freedom & Fearlessness." With each breath I repeat this silently - "Freedom and Fearlessness." These are the qualities I aspire to in my practice and in my life.

Freedom in the body, in the joints. Freedom in my heart, freedom from the weight of the ego. Fearless from the fear of humiliation, failure, appearances, projections, masks, expectations. Freedom to be in the moment, fearless of what it might bring.

Connection to Nature

2007-03-27T21:40:00.000-07:00

Today I was very lucky to attend a workshop with Shiva Rea, a yoga teacher based in Southern California. I've taken workshops from her before, which planted some very important seeds in my life, but it has been quite a few years.

The journey of her teaching took me on such an interesting path - one that I have really been yearning for, but lacking the guidance. It began with very intuitive movement, which felt so unfamiliar to me - which made me feel vulnerable - which I decided to embrace - which made it feel natural again. How interesting, to travel through the realm of the unfamiliar, into the realm of vulnerability, and back into a sense of being at home in myself. Ahh.

Tapping into the pranic energy, the natural waves and rythyms of the body puts me back into a state of connection with the waves present around us all in nature. I think it was especially powerful to do this practice in early spring. Spring is always a time when I feel so connected to nature... when all around the trees are blossoming, the leaves are sprouting, the grass is fresh and new - It's a time of shedding the old and new emergences.

So, it was a wonderfully harmonious feeling to shed off the hardened resistance to spontaneous movement - and celebrate the emergence of new vulnerabilities.

Now, I look forward to carrying this forward with me into the studio and into my teaching... so light and fresh.

Defense

2007-03-14T22:25:00.000-07:00

A recent post of Ashes' about cynicism got me thinking about a recent understanding...

I was quite embarassed to realize that I am more defensive about things that I am less sure of. The more established my conviction and faith in something, the less I am prone to feeling defensive about it. The less established my understanding or conviction, the more likely I am to get defensive if someone says something negative or contrary to it.

To be defensive means that I'm actively defending something... Sometimes I feel defensive about ideas I like, but that I haven't yet fully understood or embraced. I enjoy liking those ideas and counting them as something that appeals to me, and don't want anyone to change my mind or shake me from my comfort zone. Defensiveness seems to come along with a stubborn desire not to change, to not be wrong, to not learn. It's such a gross feeling.

So then, how to be aware of these latent tendencies, and try to curb the ferocity with which they might rear their ugly heads? I guess it's a matter of affirming that change is good - including a change of mind; that learning is good; to ask questions instead of supply answers. To do all this with the intention of transformation. And to do all of this on the canvas, on the yoga mat, and in life at large. I'm always so relieved when I manage to shift that feeling and put the armor down again. It takes so much mindfulness to resist building up layers and layers of subtle resistance.

It's also interesting to me to think about how these intimate issues of defense parallel larger, national/international issues of defense. The principles MUST be same, mustn't they?

Queen Elizabeth

2007-03-14T22:20:00.000-07:00

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I give you the queen:

I waited so long to find a picture of one of these youngsters with a dog. I love painting dogs. It is seriously restorative for the soul.

Here's my palette at the end.

Love

2007-03-04T08:34:00.000-08:00

Well, my foot is back in the water. I've been off blogging about all my vegan meals for a while... fun, but rarely so thought provoking as my fellow art bloggers. So, it feels good to step back into the pool. Thanks to an online converstaion with Art Powerlines for spurring me on.

I took a little break from making art, to focus on the expression of teaching yoga. As the Bhagavad Gita says "no effort on the path of yoga is ever lost, and no obstacle can hold you back forever." Art and yoga and teaching yoga are different expressions of the same pursuit for me. Namely, learning to love.

How grateful I have been to discover bell hook's recent book "All About Love: New Visions." This is what I have been wanting to read for some time now. This phrase "learning to love" has been stewing in my thoughts (and heart) for over a year now. A recognition that I often hold back from loving fully - whether it's toward myself or others. A recognition that "how you do anything is how you do everything" - thus, this reluctance is manifested in all aspects of my life. A recognition that the bullyish, aggressive, & excessively defensive nature of our national politics reflects the same lack of ability to love.

When I started my series of world leader portraits, I had something very specific about empathy and shifting one's perspective that I wanted to say. So far, I've exhibited the series twice and it's gotten a great reception. A few things in particular have suprised me:

One, I learned a real lesson about "saying something specific" - and that is the importance of saying something in a way that people want to hear it. Even in day-to-day interactions, we learn to use "please" and "thank you" so that people will be more receptive to our requests. I was surprised to find that the gentle tone of these paintings helped people soften to the message. Even better, the viewers felt like the message of the paintings was their own idea, that the message was not so blunt - rather that while looking at the paintings the understanding of the message rose organically inside of them.

Secondly, I learned something about the making of art. In the past, the majority of my artwork was generated by a largely unconscious process of vomiting forth the contents of my subconscious mind. (Sigh!) This series was the first time that I started with an idea, with the thought "How can I possibly express what I need to express - because I feel it is so important?" So, it started as a means of communication with OTHERS. (not as an expression of self). The lovely and amazing discovery though, was that the process of painting these paintings has been unlike anything else for me. While painting these portraits, I feel my own heart softening. I feel my own empathy expanding. I feel the sweetness in my subjects - such that when I see their adult selves in the news I see them more fully as complex beings. So, the act of making art can be a prayer of sorts, the actual act of painting is also the act of learning to love.

I felt maybe I should try some other ideas... but thus far nothing has been granted to me. So, I've picked up the brush again and I'm back at work on the world leaders series.

There's more to say, but I'm quite sure I've rambled enough for this time around.

Reflect & Reflection

2006-10-15T23:16:00.000-07:00

I have been reflecting on the concept/word "reflection". I love that reflecting is both an action and a consequence of an action, all at once.

I love that a reflection is an after-effect with a life of its own. I love that our actions "reflect upon" us. And yet, that we can also pause to reflect upon our actions.

When we were travelling in Croatia and Bosnia last month, I noticed that I was drawn to reflections and secondary effects.

When I got home, I looked up "reflect" and "reflection" in the dictionary. I think it's so interesting:
re flect
1. to cast back (light, heat, sound, etc) from a surface; The mirror reflected the light onto the wall. 2. To give back or show an image of; mirror. 3. (of an act or its result) to serve to cast or bring (credit, discredit, etc.) on its performer. 4. to reproduce; show; followers reflecting the views of the leader. 5. to throw or cast back; cause to return or rebound: Her bitterness reflects gloom on all her family. --v.i. 6. to be turned or cast back, as light. 7. to cast back light,
heat etc. 8. to be reflected or mirrored. 9. to give back or show an image. 10. to think, ponder, or meditate: to reflect on one's faults. 11. to serve or tend to bring reproach or discredit by association: His crimes reflected on the community. 12. to serve to give a particular aspect or impression: The test reflects well on your abilities (from Latin reflectere to bend back)

re flec tion
n. 1. the act of reflecting or the state of being reflected. 2. an image; representation; counterpart. 3. a fixing of the thoughts on something; careful consideration. 4. a thought occurring in consideration or meditation. 5. an unfavorable remark or observation. 6. the casting of some imputation or reproach. 7. Physics, Optics a. the return of light, heat, sound, etc, after striking a surface. b. something so reflected, as heat or esp. light. 8. Math. a. (in a plane) the replacement of each point on one side of a line by the point symmetrically placed on the other side of hte plane. 9. Anat. the bending or folding back of a part upon itself.

I was struck that the origins are from latin, "to bend back". Which led me to Backward Bends in my yoga practice. I am eager to practice backward bends tomorrow, with an awareness toward "reflection". I love the phrase "to be cast back, as light." I think the definitions have very poetic interpretations, if you allow them to be read as such. And I love the intersection of action/image/meditation/creating/viewing. Action as reflection...

In fact, isn't action as reflection one of the most fundamental goals of all yoga practice? To reflect before acting? To reflect in order to avoid regretting. To consider the surfaces upon which your actions will reflect, and what image they will reflect of your character.

And I love that is an action to reflect on the consequences of your actions... to pause before acting. Acting internally before acting externally.

Richter & Bonnard & Arsty Musings

2006-08-27T22:28:00.000-07:00

What a weird combo, but this week I have been re-looking at the paintings of Bonnard and Gerhard Richter...

http://www.abcgallery.com/B/bonnard/bonnard81.html
http://www.abcgallery.com/B/bonnard/bonnard41.html
(sorry for the semi-offensive links!)
Bonnard's paintings have always intrigued me. I find them to be very sweet and intimate, but there is also something "off" about them... It has to do with the combination of such quiet domestic scenes with such severe and unexpected perspectives. I find that this seed of tension keeps me interested in the paintings, unlike - say - Renoir, whose work is just a bit too sweet for me. I also find that the unexpected perspective angles are a bit startling and that the slight distortion helps me to look at the image with fresher eyes. I like the combination of painting from life and distorting life (with color and perspective) for emotional effect. All of this leaves unaddressed Bonnard's amazing use of color.

http://www.gerhard-richter.com/art/images/paintings/large/6471.jpg http://www.jsbworkshop.net/illus/candle.jpg
And then Gerhard Richter... pretty darn different! His paintings have percolated back up into my consciousness because of his beautiful use of "blur". I have been reading some interviews with him and starting to learn more about the ideas behind his work. On a purely visual level though, I have been thinking so much about his candle paintings. I saw a retrospective of his work at the SF MOMA a couple years ago, and the candle painting they had really blew me away. It was so luminous and waxy and soft and light... I found it very moving. So I am looking at his paintings, which have such quietude and stillness, and intellect.

And lately, candles have been recurring to me as something I want to come back to over and over. Candles, mirrors and hummingbirds. Delicacy. Softness. Blur. Melting. Dissolving.

It's an interesting shift to go back and forth between these two artists, and observe the different ways in which I respond to their work: use of color, of brush stroke, balance of emotion and intellect, public vs private...

ps. sorry for the lack of pics... Blogger is not cooperating with me!

Featured on Yahoo!

2006-08-22T15:52:00.000-07:00

Pretty cool!
I just found out that my paintings of the world leaders were featured on Yahoo Picks. I checked my stats, and it looks like about 140,000 clicks so far!

http://picks.yahoo.com/picks/i/20060819.html

cool!

discontent

2006-08-14T22:22:00.000-07:00

This week, in my practice and in my teaching, I've stumbled across something that feels very important. In my classes this month, I've been talking about balancing discipline (tapas) with contentment (santosha).

I used to find contentment to be a very confusing concept. I felt like if we were truly content, then how could we ever grow and transform and set goals. These days... my understanding of contentment is a state in which one could accept things as they truly are - and work with that.

On the other side of the coin is discontentment: the inability to accept things as they truly are.. and the struggle to work with parameters that are not real. In my practice, it is interesting to see the instances in which I push a bit too hard or for the wrong reasons... When I don't want something to be hard, or I don't want an old injury to still hurt, or I just get impatient and want to achieve something now because my ego is ready to achieve it (even if my body isn't).

Luckily for me, this isn't a hugely predominant experience in my daily practice, but it is certainly there... sometimes in a more subtle way, and other times in a quite obvious way.

I guess this week, for the first time, I really realized how excessive pushing is a sign of deep discontent. A sign of a deep lack of acceptance about the reality of the situation. In the instance of yoga postures, it's a sign of deep lack of acceptance about the body and the self. It's a form of violence, anger, and self-aggression. I guess it could be said for any of the instances in which one ignores the messages from their body: overeating or undereating, over-riding gut instinct...

This insight feels important for me... in my own practice at home, and in my practice as a teacher. In this world filled with violence and struggle... it's humbling to find so much violence and struggle in my own heart and in my yoga practice, of all places.

Passage from "Wherever You Go, There You Are"

2006-08-05T22:53:00.000-07:00

"The only way you can do anything of value is to have the effort come out of non-doing and to let go of caring whether it will be of use or not. Otherwise, self-involvement and greediness can sneak in and distort your relationship to the work, or the work itself, so that it is off in someway, biased, impure, and ultimately not completely satisfying, even if it is good."
~John Kabat-Zinn

Interesting to think about in relationship to art-making... Thinking of whether an artwork will "be of use or not." And also thinking of the way in which our hidden motives present themselves, whether we know them or not, in the final product, whether we are able to see them or not. When we can "smell" something is awry in our work or in the work of others... maybe this is part of what we are detecting.

Mixing Colors

2006-08-01T23:05:00.000-07:00

I love, love, love color mixing. Yesterday I spent about an hour just mixing colors... and didn't even get around to painting until today. Working on a portrait of young Queen Elizabeth with her dog.

Mixing colors is so meditative. I love the focus, the quietude, the subtle variations, the insight. What if you just mixed all the colors and never painted the picture?

ps. weird. sorry the picture is rotated. Blogger did that all by itself, and I can't figure out how to undo it!

surrender into reality

2006-07-27T23:54:00.000-07:00

This month, the theme in my classes has been "Future suffering can and should be avoided." This is from the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali (# 2.16)... and has caught my attention for many years. It's a preposterous statement - such a thought-provoking assertion.

So, all month, this topic has been on my mind... I've been reading about it, teaching about it, talking about it, and thinking about it. I've got to thinking about the times when I have suffered most... and the times when I have suffered least. About the various ways and degrees in which I have suffered... and the ways and degrees to which I've been responsible for my own suffering. Very fascinating. And humbling too, by the way.

When I'm lucky, I feel like my asana practice takes me into the present moment. There's a depth, or infinity, there... like an endless well. A timelessness... expansive and contractive all at once.

That sort of feeling, the feeling of being present in the moment, and open to every possible outcome, as it unfolds - is the position of least suffering for me. When I am able to explore/ask questions/wait for answers/play/breathe...

The position of most suffering is when I have a plan or outcome that I am heavily invested in/attached to, and which does not unfold according to my fantasies. So hard to accept, and so hard to adapt to. All my energy goes into resisting the situation, rather than making the most with what I've got.

But of course, there's some sort of balance. I've got to have discipline to make it into the art studio or onto the yoga mat. I've got to have information and insight in order to come up with something worthwhile. There's a balance of logic and intuition.

At times I've felt my practice swing too far toward intuition. The poses get a bit sloppy. The discipline fades a bit. It becomes self-indulgent. It becomes purely sensory. With art making, the equivalent is when my art becomes repetetive, self-referential. When the pieces are more like doodles... unattached to sincere reflection or purpose. When the pieces are not intended for communication, and their inspiration doesn't extend beyond my own microcosm. The marks are free and sloppy and uncoordinated with each other.

Other times, my practice has swung in the opposite direction, All Logic. Lots of brain work - planning what I'll do and why I'll do it. It doesn't work for me. I get mentally constricted. I get cranky and feel undernourished. The self is denied entirely. I'll do poses even though they don't feel good. I guess the art equivalent is when a piece or a series becomes pure repetition. Something I'm doing because I've determined I'll do it... and the reflection has stopped. The marks are stiff and lifeless.

The rare and glorious moments of inspiration have that same feeling of infinite depth as the present moment. The idea comes from the depths of the heart, and reflects off the skills of the mind... so that the intuition and the intellect bounce off each other over and over. Each move forward carries both elements along.

Soften & Receive

2006-07-03T22:47:00.000-07:00

I've had a shoulder injury for over two years now... and it's beginning to heal at last. In the last 5 weeks or so, my amazing friend Lorie has been treating it with massage & craniosacral work. With her skillful assistance, my shoulder has been freed from its self-made bondage with astonishing speed... which has been a fascinating process to watch.

The original injury had healed, but what it left in its wake was a muscular armor around it. The muscles hardened and unified together as an act of protection... and didn't get the message to relax after the injury had begun to heal.

Of course it's a mirror of the process that we all make emotionally, when we continue to guard ourselves long after a threat has passed or dissipated. Long after an initial emotional injury, our psyches hold on and continue to amass armor and weaponry.

After my first appointment to get the shoulder worked on, Lorie and I were discussing that the injury was on my left side - the feminine, receptive side. Later that day, I witnessed some people engaged in a heated argument... and I felt the new freedom in my shoulder constrict and flinch. Amazing! I hadn't ever perceived such a direct relationship. I realized that I had been girding my shoulder from emotional injury as well as from physical injury. I'm sure this is going on all the time, all throughout my body, but with the fresh sensitivity of my shoulder, I was able to actively perceive it.

So I have proposed to myself an endeavor to "soften and receive." Keep the muscles soft. Keep the sponge moist. ... And to be sensitive to how my emotional flinches leave physical memories in the body.

Yesterday in class we did Vrsikasana (Scorpion Pose) and I watched a few of my friends do it with such grace and strength. The pose requires such faith and such a deep relaxed contraction in the back... Watching those backs bend, I thought again "soften and receive." Allow the back to relax in on itself.

And I also got to thinking about how and when we are able receive. Obviously, a vase that's full of water can't accept any more, at least not without spilling out some of the old water. So, I guess you've got to be willing to get rid of something old in order to receive something new.

Friendship

2006-06-27T22:04:00.000-07:00

Did everyone see this fascinating study on the decline of friendship in America? It's a thought-provoking study about how fewer and fewer Americans feel that they have someone to discuss important matters with - particularly people outside of their families. As a result, people feel more isolated and lonely. The ideas of discussion and having a confidante seem to be the foundations of friendship that the study revolves around. It's worth reading.

It makes me wonder how the facts of this study are reflected in the state of the art & yoga communities. How is the sense of isolation reflected in the way that people are creating & practicing? How do a group of isolated individuals even form a "community"?

It strikes me that the study & practice of yoga inherently leads people away from such isolated thinking. In my experience, yoga has led me toward self-study, which has led me to see my strengths & faults a bit more clearly, which has led me toward empathy, which has led me to feeling connected to others. The very purpose & practice of yoga is about moving closer to the world around us.

And yet, still there is division & disagreement in the greater yoga community. I'm lucky to not be greatly affected by it, but there are certainly many yogis that feel THEIR yoga is better than all other forms of yoga. Yoga can definitely be practiced in a way that leads people toward ego, pride, superiority, & isolation.

The same is also true within the realms of art. Ideally, art is a force that brings people together, and illustrates states of humanity & human existence. And yet, so often, art ends up just being the result of isolated identities... without dialogue, without honest or courageous discussion of what's important to the artist, without listening to what's said in response.

So it gets me thinking:
When we create art, who are we confiding in?
When we create art, with whom are we discussing? Are we discussing matters that are truly important to us?
When we create art, do we feel supported and connected? Part of a conversation with others?

Value of Repetition

2006-06-23T22:05:00.000-07:00

Art Powerlines' recent post about repetition got my mind stirring... the effects and value of repetition have been in my thoughts a lot lately. Repetition has many possible qualities... but there are a few that are specifically of interest to me:

Repetition as commitment
Repetition as time
Repetition as constancy
Repetition as nature

Repetition as commitment.
When an artist or a yogi does something time and time and time again... that act of repetition implies to the world that such a thing has value. Such an act of repetition implies to the world that the act has meaning, and purpose, and is worthy of repeated examination. What I like most of all about Opalka's number paintings is that the mere fact that he has done them with such care and precision, and over so many days/months/years - nearly forces me to stop and consider them. How could I dismiss any human effort on such a scale? Even if I don't quite know what to do with his paintings, somehow, the sheer commitment of them commands respect. And the commitment reminds me of human commitments - families, partners, goals... Commitments we make to ourselves and others. Repetition of commitment is Faith. Re-affirming, re-committing. Weren't there ever times when Opalka got bored and kept going? Repetition gains power as it grows, like a rolling snowball gathering mass, because we know that it takes faith.

My yoga practice is often unappealing - on a weekend morning, when the body is injured or tired, when we have guest, when there is entertainment beckoning me... - but most days I find the faith to do it any way. And most days it rewards me by reminding me quickly why I am committed to yoga in the first place. But there are certainly days when I simply do it because I have faith in the practice. I'm willing to stick through the difficult/painful/boring/crummy parts because I know they are a necessary balance to the glorious/momentous/illuminating parts. And it's that faith that I see in repetition...

Repetition as time.
Repetition inherently implies time... specifically, the passage of time. Imagine a comic book page, with 20 frames... each frame with an identical drawing of a person sitting at a table. We couldn't "read" that page without (1) implying a passage of time, and (2) actual passage of time. Opalka's numbers are particularly interesting because of how many years he has done them... Argueably, they get more interesting with each year that he continues. It wouldn't have been nearly as interesting if he had only done it for a week, or even a year.

Repetition as constancy.
Like the painted numbers, like the daily yoga practice... repetition provides a sense of constancy. In yoga practice, I often think of my breath serving as the cord that strings together a strand of beads. Without a strong cord, all I've got is a big mess of beads. But when my breath is strong and steady and constant, the postures are strung together with meaning and with continuity.

In art work, when a theme or subject or style or mark is repeated over and over, there is a sense of constancy... a tie that binds. Disparate elements can be brought together into a common vision. As artists, I guess one worthwhile goal is to find our "breath" - that element of our work that can bind together anything we take on and give it a sense of meaning and continuity.

Repetition as nature.
On a related note though... sometimes that string of continuity is easier to see after-the-fact than before, or during.

At the County Fair, one of my favorite annual exhibits is the "Collections" exhibit. In this exhibit, county residents can display their collections in glass cabinets... along with a brief statement about the nature of their inspiration, and any particularly special pieces. There are always a few too many "Beanie Baby" collections - where all that's required is a bit of cash and an active ebay account... but there are also many surprising collections. Collections that have quirky & unexpected themes, and that have clearly been built over many years and even by many hands. These collections, variations on a theme... have a very human quality to them. There is a Human-ness about seeing so many similar things, each with their own unique twist. Like people, like rocks in a river bed, like roses on a rose bush... so similar, so unique. This aspect of repetition is the hardest for me to articulate. It is a softness that grows in strength with each addition, with each new variation. We end up looking for the similarities, rather than the differences. This is the heart of yoga... to see ourselves in others, to see commonality and connection rather than division, to take joy in individuals without losing awareness of oneness.

Condi

2006-06-22T15:18:00.000-07:00

Here's my finished painting of Condoleezza Rice, and the state of my palette when it was all done.

So-Called Comfort Zone

2006-06-09T23:16:00.000-07:00

This week, I was having a conversation with some online friends about the postures that we find the most comforting & stabilizing. I was surprised to find myself thinking again and again of postures that I also find very demanding. Especially this one in the picture, Kurmasana. It is very intense, very difficult, and somehow - supremely calming.

In fact, I think it's only when a posture IS very demanding that it is able to command my attention, and give me a break from my usual concerns. If a pose isn't challenging enough, I'll just keep on thinking in our same old patterns... But the intensity and urgency of difficult poses tears us away from anything familiar and forces us to go looking for new options. It can be uncomfortable, but it is also fresh, real, and new... And that's what brings about the true yogic experience of being alive and in the moment.

And this got me thinking about the expression "comfort zone." Being in the "comfort zone" usually means staying within one's realm of previous experiences - whether it's not looking for more effort in a pose, not challenging myself mentally, or sticking with situations that are emotionally familiar.

But are we really so comfortable in the so-called "comfort zone"?? I don't think I am. If I were so comfortable with my current status quo... I wouldn't be doing yoga, I wouldn't be continually looking for opportunities to grow and expand.

And obviously these effects are all at play in the making of art as well... sticking within familiar subjects/styles/mediums/marks ... and not pushing out into the infinite realm of other options. Hmmm.... exciting!

Seeing & Imagination: Vidya & Vikalpa

2006-06-04T21:38:00.000-07:00

In Patanjali's Yoga Sutras he describes 5 states of mind - which can cause either contentment or suffering: clear perception, misperception, delusion/imagination, sleep, & memory.

For years, when I would read or study the Yoga Sutras, I would stumble on that third state of mind "delusion/imagination" (vikalpa). I was so bothered that imagination was said to be a state of mind that produced suffering... and that the same word meant both "imagination" and "delusion." I had an idea that imagination was the foundation of art... a critical and important part of art making... As a result, I was confused about making peace with this part of the sutras. I couldn't figure out how to resolve it with my practice as an artist.

But today I had an insight about this.

The fundamental goal of yoga is to see things as they truly are... to move from ignorance & misperception into a state of clear perception. In Sanskrit, the word for ignorance is "avidya" - which translates as "non-seeing." And of course it's opposite is "vidya" - wisdom, "seeing".

And it was only today that I understood that in the context of yoga philosophy, art comes from Vidya, Seeing things as they truly are - and not from Vikalpa, Imagining things to be that do not actually exist (ie. illusion/delusion). At its best, art recognizes some essential truth & perceives it as it truly is - and then illuminates it for the rest of us to see.

There's the obvious, literal interpretation - which would be still lives. Learning to draw what you are looking at is a process of learning to actually SEE what you are looking at - and not what you think you are looking at, or what you wish you were looking at, or what you are afraid you are looking at. This is probably why it is so important, in a classical art education, to first learn to draw what you are looking at with accuracy. Not just because it's a nice technical skill to have, but because it represents a certain ability to get yourself out of the way of your subject matter.

Then there's the larger, conceptual interpretation of these connections - that in addition to perceiving objects as they are - art also comes from a place of perceiving emotions or situations as they truly are... and this clear perception can be shared through any medium or subject matter.

Recent Sketches

2006-06-04T21:32:00.000-07:00

These are two pieces I've been working on lately. The top one is a 3x3' conte crayon drawing of two sows in gestation crates... And the lower one is the underpainting for a portrait of young Condeleezza Rice, done with charcoal dust and turpentine on the canvas. That's a great, great way to do underpaintings by the way - pretty & expressive, and - once dry - erasable! Very cool.

Doing our own work

2006-06-02T22:11:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking a lot lately about the movements that art could make in people's hearts & lives... and something Art Powerlines wrote recently stirred my thoughts some more.

In 12 years of practicing yoga, I continue to feel a perceptible change nearly every day. It is not at all unusual that I will find myself thinking, feeling, or behaving in some way that hasn't ever spontaneously occured in my life before. Even more amazing is watching the changes in my students... Witnessing people soften, strengthen, inquire, become confident, become kind - and listening as they share their joy and wonder at such changes - is a tremendous blessing. This amazing spectacle has given me a deep belief in the inherent goodness of people, and in the possibility of change for us all.

Yoga works over time... and it works because each of us has to do it for ourselves. We become our own toolbox, and by our own inherent wisdom, we learn at just the pace that we are capable of. It works because it is optimistic, encouraging, and rewarding... even when it's incredibly difficult and uncomfortable and scary.

How could art sneak into people's lives like this? How can art find its way into people's lives and hearts in the gentle, persuasive way that yoga does? How can art become a medium that shares a message - even an uncomfortable one - in such a way that people are eager to receive it?

This strikes me as a critical point. Art is so often shocking/offensive - but who of us appreciates learning from shock & offense? Isn't a gentle, compassionate approach capable of being even more devastating and effective than brute force? As Art Powerlines wrote, artists/people could chose to transform "art that is about shocking people to art that is about drawing people [in]."

I keep thinking back to the difficult, but necessary, lessons I have had to learn in life - and how some were learned with a sense of discovery and accomplishment - while others were learned with humiliation and fear. What works about yoga is that each practitioner discovers the same truths for themselves - in their own language, in their own breath, in their own body, in their own thoughts & metaphors. The ideas are the universal truths, but the discoveries are intimate and individualized.

So how can art sneak into someone's heart and open it from the inside? Can a viewer look at a painting and feel as though they created it? As though it was their idea? I'm pretty sure it is possible... because I'm pretty sure I've looked at paintings and experienced that feeling. So, how does an artist create that opening for the "viewers"?

Another thing in Art Powerline's lovely posting that got me thinking was the idea that "Art is about people." Ever since reading it, I keep hearing "Art is about Humanity" in my thoughts. But I think I'll save that for my next posting.

Springs and Wells

2006-05-30T22:29:00.000-07:00

I picked this name for my new blog from a recent insight that came to me... about the nature and balance of inspiration and discipline. During my yoga practice, I was reflecting on the way that on some days, and in certain postures, inspiration arises from the depths - and bursts forth into the light of day. Breaks through the crust on its own.

Other times, and other days, and in other poses, I have a feeling of having to do the digging myself... and go deep inside looking for water - and having faith that its there somewhere. I wrote more on this topic in a recent email to my yoga students (http://www.yogawithamey.com/yogathoughts.html)

So art is the same... With yoga, I have the love of the practice... I have the passion for the practice. I almost never miss a day, and I never miss a day without conscious consideration. But with art - somehow - I only enjoy it on the occassions that it rises to meet me. Otherwise, I feel strained, forced, wasteful, meaningless, empty. With yoga, I understand the practice on so many levels -- at its most base and shallow, it's still a good stretch. With art, I'm not sure what it is at its most base and shallow - self indulgent? regressive? detrimental?

Art and yoga both issue a call to honesty, so I wonder if I can allow the natural discipline that I have toward yoga to be a role model for my approach to art. And can I allow the natural call for honesty and earnestness in art to be a role model for my yoga practice? By the way, is it even discipline at this point, if it has become so natural? Maybe not, but then all I need to do is step up to the next rung on the ladder - discipline to remain conscious, honest, attentive, alert, compassionate while I practice, while I make art.