Before I dive into a little personal philosophy on the practice of making art (and doing anything that requires effort, for that matter), if you’re in the central Oregon area this weekend swing by the Sunriver Art Fair, say hi and check out my latest work. It’s a lovely fair and the weather should be great. Friday through Sunday, August 8-10 in the Sunriver Village. This painting (above) is hot off the easel.
A little story about that. Back in the day, as a late teen, I joined a family camping trip out to far eastern Oregon at Owyhee Lake. We made a long day trip down to Leslie Gulch, a wondrous landscape that dead ends in the upper reaches of the lake. At the time, we drove along the rough road at the bottom of the main gulch and rubber-necked the pinnacles and walls of sandstone, like something out of the OG southern Utah red rock country, but right here in Oregon. A few bighorn sheep danced across a high slope, Disney-like, for good measure.
The place never left my mind. Recently we were rambling around out in the area and made a long side trip to see the place again. It hasn’t changed much at all, thankfully, and left the same breathtaking impression.
On this trip, however, we made a point of exploring every side canyon we could access, just to see what was there. It made for a long couple of days, I can tell you, which ended with a scramble up a particularly gnarly canyon, sans trail, that wound like a nautilus shell to a spectacular amphitheater of gold-and-copper head walls two or three hundred feet high. This painting looks through the gateway from inside that amphitheater, out across a spectacular display of the unique landforms that characterize the area. This work is my first homage to that special place.
It feels good to be painting more consistently these days. As I mentioned in a previous ArtJournal entry, last year was complicated. I had a few other things come up that took time away from the studio. In addition, in the true form of artists everywhere, I’ve been striving to look around the corner in my creative pursuits, trying to figure out where my process is going. The simple truth is, I’m not sure that’s possible, or even a good idea. There’s much more to unpack around that question, but for the moment, the path is to keep creating and see what emerges.
On the subject of keeping going, some years ago I found myself struggling with the “long haul” of doing things that were good for me. Maybe you know the feeling. You’ve worked hard to establish a good habit and the day comes, sooner or later, when it just feels like a heavy refrain. Although the habit is working, the repetition feels worn. What’s a person to do?
During one of these periods, while doing pull-ups on the back patio in mid-January, my subconscious spoke up and said, “Too many hard things.” Exercise, eating well, getting to bed on time, working dilligently at your job, being patient in the face of difficulty, managing relationships, taking care of your health, supporting others, planning new adventures. That’s a lot to keep on the front burner all the time. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining here. It’s all good stuff, to be sure (well, mostly). But at some point, there comes an internal rebellion.
In that moment, it’s entirely possible that you just need a break. A break, you say? That’s kind of risky, don’t you think? Once you drop the program, what if you can’t bring yourself to pick it back up?
Although most of us manage to make it through that first day back at work after a vacation, for example, what about the less urgent stuff? What happens on week three after leaving off your training plan, diet, or whatever good thing you’re doing for yourself? Or, in the case of the self-employed artist, walking back into your mess of a studio after some time away, stacks of blank canvases staring reproachfully from the closet.
Luckily, there’s a solution to all that, at least one that seems to work for me.
After years of striving in various aspects of life, it finally dawned on me that all efforts are eventually disrupted by something. You can be the most diligent, consistent person on the planet, but if you have a normal life, things come up. These things come in all stripes, good and not so good, like vacations and head colds, stints of family care, injuries, conferences, moving here or there, and endless other potential obstacles to your perfect routine. It’s going to happen, you just can’t help it.
Plus, there’s the aforementioned wrinkle to consider. Even if you do have a great routine, eventually your progress and enthusiasm are going to plateau, or start to wane. The idea of continual growth, often purveyed by die-hard enthusiasts and influencers in many areas of life, especially around things like fitness, simply isn’t realistic. There is only a certain level one can achieve with the effort one is willing and able to invest. Period. Episodic interruptions aside. Faced with the possibility of backsliding away from some gold ring of potential, it can be tempting to just throw in the towel. Why bother?
That eventually led me to a second realization: for most of us, there is no gold ring. There is only progress on a scale from couch potato to world champion. Metaphorically speaking, of course, since this principle applies to anything you might undertake. Creating art, for example. In between are all sorts of factors like circumstances, capabilities, and commitment.
Fine. So we have some hard truths, here. What’s the solution? For me, it was understanding that the real goal is not achieving something “out there” in the future, like the end of a race, but doing the thing itself. Yes, this is the old “it’s the journey, not the destination” idea. But with the understanding that your journey will be periodically interrupted. In the long run, it matters far less how much or how little you do, as long as you do. And in order to “do”, the key is not having a fixed mindset that can topple like a house of cards as soon as some unexpected event – or a vague ennui – crops up. The key is restarting.
By restarting, I mean going all the way back to a beginner step. Sometimes you can pick up where you left off. Other times, if you’re having difficulty, it means picking the very lowest bar for entry you can think of. For me, as an artist, it could be doodling on a napkin if I have to. The key is to have no ambition whatsoever, except to restart. At this point, anything you do in the act of restarting is defined as success.
How does that work? What if you just keep doing the minimal and leave it at that? The magic of restarting is that it naturally builds on itself. You do it, you fit it in, you work it out, you make room for it. Just a little. And that begins to grow little roots in your life, from which it will naturally grow.
This is especially true if you’ve restarted before, or simply experienced periods of progress that your mind and body remember and understand are a natural result of slow, consistent effort. But beware, it’s tempting to hold in mind the highest level we previously achieved, or could achieve, for a certain activity, as our standard. That’s pretty daunting if you find yourself back at the bottom of the hill. Better to focus on the ground in front of your feet and take a little step. Better to wonder, who knows what will happen this time around? Lower the bar as much as you can to where it feels almost ridiculous not to do it – and be happy with that.
Which is another secret to restarting: letting yourself feel good about the little steps. I mean, really savor that victory. It’s the opposite of telling yourself what you did was nothing compared to where you could be if not for … (fill in the blank with the latest disruption). Far better to associate a positive feeling, which you create yourself, with the little steps you take.
After years of adopting this approach, I honestly look forward to restarting. It brings routines and ambitions down to the scale where they feel friendly again. I say to myself, I’ll take it easy for as long as I need to and push when I feel ready. With the confidence that I can restart when I need to, the inevitable interruptions, setbacks, and breaks are less worrisome. In fact, these can be opportunities to make adjustments or shake things up. And above all perhaps, it helps me focus on the steps in front of me - the doing - rather than outcomes.
Here’s the deal. For me, and I’m guessing for a lot of people, big ambitions looming out there in cinematic glory can feel a little like Hollywood fiction – very daunting compared to where you may sit at the moment. The vision is useful in helping ignite a spark of desire. That’s good. But it also creates a problem when the vision becomes an expectation, with a big, fuzzy, impossible question mark in between it and you.
Realizing those ambitions, in whatever form may be achievable within your circumstances and efforts, relies on consistency. And the key to consistency is restarting.
On that note, I have some things to pack for the art fair this weekend. I hope you’re having a fantastic summer so far! Reach out if you get a chance.
