how do you studio?
To activate a discussion/blog on the art of studio practice, I am interested in your responses to these two initial questions.
1. What do you do when you are distracted to get yourself back to work, or, what are some common ways you distract yourself?
2. What do you do for fun/pleasure while working in the studio?
1. What do you do when you are distracted to get yourself back to work, or, what are some common ways you distract yourself?
2. What do you do for fun/pleasure while working in the studio?
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posted by Deborah Boardman at
12:31 PM
9 Comments:
To get back to work I exhaust every possibility of distraction: NY Times, magazines, yoga, gym, grocery shopping, meals, coffee and email. There comes a time when nothing is left but the painting before me.
I turn on my photo lamps, a 500 watt incandescent light and a lower wattage warm yellow light. They set the tone: heat the studio and flood it with brilliance. I'm a night painter and like to begin about now, 4:30 pm when the light is falling and go into the night, sometimes as late as 2 am.
I listen to music and it varies. I rarely listen to music when not painting. I have listened to Steve Reich's 18 Musicians for about 6 years. Now on a minimalist kick, I am listening to other, lesser known talents such as Arnold Dreyblatt, who is a nut, and so focused that when I am deep in painting the twin activities of moving my brush and hearing his music is almost too intense. I am also very keen on Jane Siberry's When I Was a Boy, which has brought me to tears while I work. When music touches me that deeply I will go into the artist's entire output and become intimate with their work, because it guides my own--not so much structurally as spiritually or psychologically.
Usually once I begin to paint I go deep into a session. I'll pop out to heat water, change a cd or do a quick email check but generally stay immersed. In Brooklyn I live and work in the same place alone, so it isn't so difficult to enter a zone where every action is fluid, an extension of painting: once the session begins.
It's like a space ship or a plane, taking off. I don't want to go until I leave.
I do not have a consistent process to report because few things have been predictable about my schedule. Demands on my time and my desires change and I adapted. The only constant that has ever been with me is to wake up in the morning with a plan to paint and what happens that day and night revolves around that hope. The distractions to my plan are too numrous and always have been;full time teaching (although now retired), phone calls,shopping, time to give to family and friends.It's a full life and usually I don't need to manufacture the things that get in the way of an artist's production but I certainly can, as well as anyone. Keeping energy from flagging in the studio is an interesting game. Deadlines help. So does coffee,exercise,music and occasional breaks for a snack, a glance at the newspaper and even at my email. Because I am slow, standing for hours as I work and constantly changing the image, my major rule in order to produce a body of paintings is to work til I drop.
I was in my late 20's before I did anything whatsoever art related. After that,I had many years of a "honeymoon" in the studio. It never occured to me that it would ever stop being anything BUT energizing and a total pleasure.
In recent years, there are, at times, other descriptors besides: energizing and a total pleasure! Sometimes its like plowing through the LaBrea Tar Pits. Mercifully & happily, sometimes it's still the most awesome thing in the world.
I find that a good studio visit has the capacity to evoke tons of energy. Having someone with a great eye (or two) come in and stir things up can be as good as it gets.
This past summer, I had two studio assistants working with me; both were undergrads. They brought so much fun and upbeat spirits with them----it was unbelievable. I'm guessing it's because they are still at the glorious stage where anything and everything seems possible. (The CON side of this was that they imporvised even when I gave them specific instructions!) I don't have assistants at present, but I'm trying to keep in mind --as much as possible--that anything & everything is possible. When all else fails, I turn to my afternoon ice cream treat, and the studio, again, looks good.
I mentioned to Jb in an email that she suffers a lot less than I do in the studio. It occurs to me that my approach to a lot of things might be measured in suffering+effort=authenticity. I am interested in shifting this paradigm to one of openess and playfulness.
ec's practice of listening deeply to music interests me a lot. I noticed how deeply I connected to 2 cd's while working this last year: Crane Wife by the Decembrists and a compilation of Radio Head's greatest hits. I find singing at the top of my lungs while painting can be very effective...ok, maybe just fun.
In response to jrapahel's post, I also don't know how it would be to work without deadlines at all. They help to structure and give a sense of completion to a stage in ones work.
Suffering authentic? It's archetypical: Van Gogh, et al. I am also amazed by how Modernist practice champions the reductive. Artists like Paul Jenkins, whom I admit, is a bit off-kilter, get slammed by writers like Barry Schwabsky for "indulging" themselves--as if a sin!!!
After posting I began to question my listening to music and concluding perhaps it wasn't serious enough for studio work. I tried not doing it, but decided it helps induce painting mode. From time to time I've tried no deadlines, which I don't find half as efficient as too many, when pressure to produce makes decisions much faster and more efficient.
I also agree with jb, a studio visit can be galvanizing--as can going to see shows, really good ones! Where there's dialogue with your own work.
My studio is behind my house and the garden always beckons, so distractions often win out. But to get refocused, I first turn off the computer and phone and then begin small studies on paper. This is the closest I get to journaling. Most of them remain unfinished but they go up on the walls as a reminder of how to stay clear when I’m constructing the larger paintings.
Distractions are yoga class, NY Times, and books (knots, rug patterns, human anatomy. architecture, and Diego Velazquez). I spend a lot of time printing out images from the internet or from my photo files so I can paint directly from them.
Like ec, I listen to music, usually Beck, Monk, Neko Case, or Osvaldo Golijov. Music has the ability to suspend time, much like a good painting session. I gave up NPR in the studio 3 years ago, but I consider myself "engaged" and current issues are alternately useful and distracting.
I like studio visits too. They offer the possibility of a focussed and layered dialog and can be really energizing, as jb says. The other side of it is that for long stretches of time it is essential to remain solitary and not get feedback. Sometimes it's difficult to know which is right, the solitude or the input.
I agree with what Jackie says about the perils of NPR listening.
It occurs to me that distractions may be indistinguishable from pleasures.
I like to sweep.
What about influences?
I'm interested in peoples' lists.
I googled 'artist studio practice' and found a link to your blog. My blog is also called Studio Practice. I just started it 3 weeks ago but the intent was to post my work and possibly see it in another way... perhaps seeing connections I hadn't seen/ Also I want to connect with other artists and to motivate myself to set goals.
So I was thrilled to see your blog I will think about your questions more fully and comment again.
I hope you will check out my blog as well.
Thanks for your work,
Kathryn collins
Boston, MA
Deborah and I have been talking about that fabulous state when the work seems to just FLOW. And the world is good and everything you make leads to the next thing....and so on. And then there's the opposite state of affairs----"unflow"???? "Non-flow?" Stuck! Following a pretty productive summer & fall, I have been quite stuck. (a la La Brea Tar Pits) Every time this happens---and it's usually worst post-show---I have hated every second, praying to emerge ASAP. I'm not exactly loving it this time around, but I do have a slightly different take on what's going on. It occurred to me (actually while I was flowin') that the stuck part is not separable from the generative part. Stuff is happening, ideas are percolating, work is transforming during the worst of the worst fog. It just hasn't revealed iteself yet. They are just two sides of one equation---despite the fact that the are experienced quite differently. As crazy as it sounds, I'm actually enjoying (not always/not alot) some of this mucking around. On some level, I think the willingness to "not know" for a sustained period of time can lead to the most exciting new work.
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