Wednesday, March 13, 2024

Cookies On The Couch


Come On In! Take a Seat

In The Breadcrumbs Home I offered up a wad of my favorite quotes as I related them to creativity. I sure threw a lot at you! There were many more, to be honest, but I thought those specific quotes best distilled the points I thought you'd find most helpful. And the great thing about quotes is that people are creating new ones every day!

So I wonder now if you can indulge me with some ideas of my own I've blurted out over the years. I'd like to think that all my years doing this can condense into something perhaps helpful to you at the right moment. So come on in, the couch is comfy, and let me share with you some nibblets I've learned....

Here—Have a Cookie

"Don't get lost in the creative process."

You need to finish what you start, again and again and again. In doing so, you'll complete many pieces rather than fiddling with one for ages, spinning your wheels. Indeed, one of the big ways learners plateau is to futz with their piece indefinitely when they should be saying "done" and moving on. Each new piece presents new challenges, thought processes, and concepts that push you farther and faster than any one piece ever could. Seeking perfection is a great thing, a necessary thing for the technical nature of our genre, but getting lost in it is a problem. Perfecting your piece isn't the same as perfecting your skills. So go ahead—meander in the creative process on a piece...noodle, ponder, fiddle, and tweak, but know there's a point where that period is needed on the end of that sentence. 

Yet also understand, too, that this period could mean the trash can. Yes...sometimes a piece just...well, it needs a fresh start and so Version 1.1 needs to go bye-bye. That's okay though...it happens. The point is, know when this point has been reached so you aren't spinning your wheels faster and faster, getting ever more frustrated and disillusioned. In this case then, know when to fully stop and truly start over with a fresh new sculpture or a new layer of primer.

"Listen to your collectors, not the clatter."

Some time ago, a dear friend of mine observed, "If you notice your critics usually aren't your collectors, are they?" Nope. They aren't. And they have no real vested interest in your work other than bashing it. Being so, it's also unlikely you'll ever win them over. Haters are just gonna hate. It's just how they derive their life force. And some people are just deeply threatened by the success and happiness of another because of their own damaged baggage. That's on them then, not you. So leave them to their outrage and indignation—you don't need it in your life and it'll only distract you. And hey...if your haters made you stumble, they win, right? So chin up, eyes forward, toss those curls, and stride forwards confidently. You got this. Instead, focus on your collectors, those engaged with you, in support and encouragement. They're the ones you should be listening to, they're the ones who deserve your attention. If you're going to pretzel yourself then, do it for your collectors as they're the ones with a genuine vested interest in you.

Likewise, don't forget about your peers. Like-minded colleagues know the shared challenges as keenly as you do, they're in the same boat. Indeed, most of my lifelong friends come from this community, for good reason...we speak the same language. And make no mistake: That kind of belonging and comfort can mean the moon and sun! Because gosh sakes knows, the world out there is inordinately brutal to artists, especially in this community. So lean onto your fellow artists and allow them to lean onto you...we're better together rather than divided, right?

That said, learn to ignore the comments section...to pretty much everything in our venue. Seriously. Don't even go there. See, our community has a terrible penchant for thoughtless, even malicious commentary regarding our art. Much of it is misinformed and a lot of it is downright mean. Honestly, the icky wake generated by a single new debut can be really off-putting as a look for our genre, even devastating for the artist. Too many people just seem to think that their needless opinion should be put out there, but no...not all opinions are created equal and not all opinions are worth blurting out. Yet our community does nothing to police this and so until we revise our toxic social contract, bad behavior will tend to set the tone. So artists...learn how to weather it even if that means avoiding such places where this poor behavior is rampant or simply staying offline for a while after your debut. Your sanity and your joy are infinitely more important! (And check out my blog post, The Critic In The Creative Space for more insights on fielding criticism.) So that said, again...it's your collectors and colleagues who should have weight to their opinions in your view. They're the ones with opinions that count so keep your focus where it needs to be, on them.

"Be bold!"

"Each piece is practice for the next," Ed Gonzales wisely told me years ago. And truly, that's a great way to frame things that lessens the pressure we put on ourselves. Relax. And learning is a continuum with no end and with so many tangents, so careen if ya wanna. As long as you give yourself the opportunity to grow with each piece, you're doing it right.

But think about this, too: Approach some pieces with a purposeful, daring rethinking of accepted convention, especially your own. Don't be timid! And just because a whole bunch of conventional types are yelling at you to do it their way doesn't mean they're right or they understand your vision. Rock the boat! Break from what's accepted, what's a formula, what's dogma, what's a rule. If it's realistic and doesn't depict harm, it's game! So what can you do differently on this piece? How can you make it more novel? What's some unexplored territory you can wander into? What could you learn? What can you innovate? What could you poke at and challenge? Truly, if I don't feel like I'm absolutely going to fail horribly while I'm working, I know I'm not pushing far enough. So if you want to sculpt a Hackney in an unconventional phase of the trot—do it. If you want to sculpt a flippy tail on a jumping horse—do it. If you want to express muscles realistically but beyond accepted formula—do it. If you want to portray an esoteric breed type—do it. If you want to put a rare pattern on a breed where it's disfavored by some—do it. If you want to put flipped back ears on your halter horsedo it. Follow your gut even if that flies in the face of convention. Chance novelty with each piece, chase innovation and new ways of thinking about the subject—it's good for you creativity and it's fun! Sure, you'll get blowback, sometimes a lot of it it. But who cares? You'll have "dared greatly" and probably created a piece that'll really stick out in a crowd or resonate with someone. "No one ever achieved greatness by playing it safe," observed Harry Gray. 

What's more, believe in yourself and your power to create wonderful things. Bust out of those walls that tell you "I can't do that," or "that's too scary," or "that's just too much for me" or "people will criticize me for this." Try to dump the fear and shame. Because while operating outside the box may be risky, the payoff is huge! You'll have "said" something, you'll have established a new horizon for yourself, and you'll have prodded convention along just a little bit more. And know it or not, our genre has a very strong tradition of conventional thinking because so many participants haven't actually Looked at horses well enough or know how to. As such, their expectations are often too safe, are factually wrong, are stylistically biased or artistically stifling, or they haven't evolved with the current science or methodology. And conventions are meant to be poked at, I think. Questioned, rethought, and changed when needed, and the only way we do that is by poking them. In fact, I think some of them should be smashed! Bam!

"Don't sculpt dead horses."

Now you can sculpt figurative dead horses if you wish, but that's not what I'm referring to. What I am talking about here is the need to keep anatomy charts as baseline guides rather than latching onto them as dogma. Horses don't move like articulated paper doll anatomy diagrams. Now yes, the skeleton does of course, being rigid, but the living flesh that's packed around it doesn'tit morphs, squishes, stretches, jiggles, ripples, pooches, flops, wrinkles, pocks, and distorts with each fleeting "living moment." That means those tidy muscle configurations in a diagram change, often considerably, as muscles goo in and out of prominence, even distorting into something unrecognizable from their standing forms. This is what I refer to as "organic chaos," those physical things inherent in living reality yet entirely missing from static anatomical illustrations. Why? Because illustrations are created from dead horses! Living anatomy is entirely different from illustrated anatomy.

What's more, a major physical component is typically lacking from anatomy charts because it has to be stripped away to reveal the muscle groups: Fascia. This is what envelopes everything in some form, lending texture, support, structure, and mechanics to the entire system, tying it all together. It also creates in part the delicate hide and skin textures and effects on the body, those little "imperfections" or fleshy details that are a part of anatomy too. So if we don't reinstate fascia back into our considerations, we can end up creating a sculpture that looks more like inert polished metal than living flesh. Now this is perfectly fine if this is part of your style—and there's plenty of room for loads of styles in realism—but if we want to sculpt actual living flesh, factoring fascia back into the equation is a start.

Likewise, it also means that if we lean on those static illustrations too much, we're going veer towards a more formulaic rendition of anatomy and away from an organic one. Again, this is totally okay if that's part of your style, but if you want to go beyond it, you're going to have to let go of those orderly diagrams as literal interpretations. And, hey—it's fun! It makes sculpting more like playtime rather than "sculpting by numbers" plus your Eye will start to pick up on all of life's little fleshy eccentricities which add so much novelty and realism to your piece. 

What's more, it also means considering physics in our work, those physical forces that change flesh, too. The horse is a big, heavy, muscled, gooey, hairy athletic animal and that translates into a lot of wiggling', rippling, and jiggling' fleshy stuff going on and loads of passive mechanics with the mane, tail, and feathers. Really, hair is easily one of the most difficult things to sculpt partially for this reason as passive physics are difficult for the human brain to randomize. There are also inertial and weight issues on the body as well as mass is propelled upwards, forwards, backwards, or downwards, or lifted into lightness or compacted in tension. And on and on. But an anatomy chart doesn't relay any of this information and so we need a lot of observational study to learn to infuse it into our clay.

"The truth is in the work."

When all is said and done, when taking stock in our body of work, when pondering where our guiding star now calls us, or when we're fielding critics, we'll learn one thing: The truth is in our art. Everything we are is right there, in our art. And everything we need to know—about life, ourselves, our purpose, potential, and priorities, about our subject, everything—lies in our art. Our art always speaks the truth, how things really are despite what we may insist or think otherwise. But that's what motivated arting does—in its own way, which is different for everyone, it makes us dig deep and peels away artifices to get to the heart of things. We cannot create our art with honesty by only going halfway. So what does the full extent of this effort bring out in us, what does it reveal about us? In all this then, we learn more about our ourselves and our motivations and so our Truth. 

Adding to this, we're depicting an animal—one who has little agency in our human world—so our choices in his portrayal reveal a lot about us. We like to talk about humane treatment of horses, but what does our work actually say? Are we depicting problematic horsemanship? Are we duplicating questionable practices? Are we portraying outright abuse? Are we choosing dicey conformational structure? We can be advocates for this animal so what does our work say about how we really think and feel?

What's more, when others raise the bar, how will we respond? Does our art likewise evolve in scope and skill? Or does it stagnate and plateau? And what does that say about our attitude? If we talk a good talk, can our work walk the walk? It'll speak for itself, and louder than we ever could. And we may like to think that our skills and media are so good, are timeless, but only our art will challenge Time to prove if that holds true. Following this, what other people, including judges, think of our work now isn't a good reflection of posterity. Only the far future gifted with hindsight, will prove where we stand now. So it's our work—and only our work—that will travel forwards and speak for us in the future. 

Even so, our art will guide us towards that destiny, the truth of what we'll be, whatever it is...which can end up being quite a surprise! But listen to it. If it causes you to veer towards a new direction then—listen to it. If you're compelled to focus on something myopically—listen to it. If you're struggling, the work is trying to tell you something—listen to it. If your work is feeling tired and wants to bust loose—listen to it. Absolutely, your work will speak clearly about where you need to go, it'll speak your Truth—but only if you listen. So always...always...stay open to what your work is telling you. It always tells you the Truth.

"Be kind to yourself."

Perhaps all this culminates in the need to be gentle with ourselves. Aren't we our own most horrible critic? Yet we face deep challenges in this art form, many even psychological, so learn to give yourself second, third, fourth, twenty chances to process and meet them. Learning takes time, effort, and failure. And you will fail. Every artist has "bad horse days" and we'll make plenty of mistakes—that's actually how we learn. Perfectionism can be a relentless taskmaster all by itself, too, so learn to show yourself compassion and give yourself space to be human. Realize, too, that there will be times where you'll be frustrated, often when your skills don't match your expectations, so be patient with yourself. Also some of us have our mental health to manage, asking for even greater self-care. Find serenity, make peace, and extend yourself generous amounts of altruism. You and your work will be better off for it.

Showing kindness to ourselves also tends to make us kinder to others, too. It helps us realize that everyone is struggling in some way, much of it invisibly fought. Indeed, how much do you grapple with daily life and hide? Well, others are doing the same. So while they may seem totally on top of things, successful, popular, happy, gifted, famous, [insert the awesome], the truth is they're struggling with their own challenges, too. Give everyone room to be human, frail, and vulnerable, or at least the benefit of the doubt.

Now yes—some folks are just awful. There's always "that guy" in every crowd, isn't there? Yet I believe that human evil derives from fear, that instinctive, unthinking, knee-jerk, primordial fear. Not from bolting away from a hungry tiger per se, but that other kind that generates anger, hate, suspicion, resentment, envy, violence, prejudice, retaliation, beta aggression, lashing out, all those negatives. So deep down, awful behavior is usually due to being afraid. Yet, kindness—particularly reflected back onto ourselves—can become a beautiful armor hate can never breach. Haters can say anything they want, but self-grace will always deflect it.

"Stay curious."

Nature is full of curve balls and the moment we worship something as dogma, it'll often blast that apart. The natural world is packed full of wonder, magic, possibility, eccentricity, variety, and discovery so stay open and hungry. New things can come from any direction, too, some totally unexpected. Curiosity and staying a learner will serve you well in equine realism because embracing discovery rather than defaulting to convention keeps our work exploratory and honest. Indeed, black and white thinking won't serve us well when expressing life. Really, knowledge isn't so much about regurgitated information. A computer can do that. Instead, actual knowledge is understanding and imagining how to creatively and resourcefully apply facts while also questioning them and playing with them, of knowing that truth is always evolving as are the answers. It's more about adaptability and creative thinking than about blurted out dogma, and here curiosity plays a pivotal role.

Curiosity doesn't just have to do with knowledge bases or skill sets though. It also entails the nature of our work—how we explore our subject, how we rethink our work, what ideas we explore, the narratives we choose, and how we go about doing all that. If we're tweaking and remaking our knowledge base with each piece then, we're practicing curiosity, too. 

Because the moment our curiosity leaves us is the moment our work stops evolving. We'll also probably become less enthusiastic compared to someone who has kept theirs, messing with our motivations and sense of self-worth. Try then to avoid the idea that "I know enough." Trust me—no one does and that's a wonderful thing. So much more to explore! 

"Arting has a common language."

Remember that the artistic and psychological struggles of other artists are often similar with our own—we're all in the same boat. We have a kind of kinship, an "arthood" of sorts. It's wonderful to know that someone might understand what we're experiencing so thoroughly! It does mean this as well: Other artists have their own struggles, too, ones we may never see. So be glad for them then when they succeed...congratulate, encourage, and support them. They probably surmounted some pretty tough obstacles, many of which may be invisible to us, and that's definitely worth praise and admiration, right?

In addition to this, art speaks to people in different ways, but it does so through the same conduits: Love, aesthetics, stirred thoughts, memory, emotion, humor, and our human need for connection. If we can light up just some of those pathways then, our art can speak directly to the soul and create an amazing synergistic connection. That's what language does, and art has a language everyone can relate to in some way. Art is a kind of mother tongue of the soul. 

Going further, we're focused on an animal, a subject with their own very peculiar reality, motivations, agenda, and perceptions. In this, we can speak with and for them, using the common language of art to translate theirs. What are we saying with our art then? Is it something we want to say?

"Help rather than harp."

Very often we'll hear someone beg, even demand certain things of organizations, shows, hosts, and volunteers. It's understandable—there may be a problem that needs addressing. However, here's the truth of it: Anything we demand we should spearhead ourselves to completion; otherwise be satisfied with the status quo. Why? Well, those folks are already overtaxed, worn out, burned out, stretched too thin, traumatized, and resource-depleted. So help rather than harp. 'Nuff said about that.

"Life is messy."

I admit—I'm a "grey area" person. I prefer ambiguity, mystery, and uncertainty over absolutes. Not to say that absolutes don't exist—an elbow can only bend like a hinge unless it breaks—but you know what I mean. Fudge factor. Wiggle room. Space for organic, mercurial, unpredictable nature. Because just when someone seems to lay down dogma, nature chucks a curve ball right into the glove. 

Equine color genetics is a classic example as new mutations and new discoveries are rewriting what was known about the involved mechanisms as well as forcing colors conventions to evolve. New science is making discoveries that challenge a lot of traditional assumptions, nomenclature, and concepts, too, so black and white thinking here can literally wipe out colorful reality...and isn't that unacceptable?

Same with equine physiology as new ideas and tech are finally unraveling the mysteries of equine biomechanics, biology, and behavior, and as such, a lot is now in flux. And all those neato anatomy charts we all love? Tidy, neat, delineated? Well, in actual nature—not so much. It's an organic mess full of variation, variety, and the unexpected! Do an actual dissection and you'll quickly develop an appreciation for those who tried to make any sense out of it at all in a tidy diagram! 

The horse themself is often unexpected, too. Their anatomy manifests in ways well beyond what we'd predict, well out of formula, well past what we think it "should" be. Sure, it follows biological rules, but still, it'll always surprise us. Their conformation can vary as well, and even change with trends and tastes. Individual variation—just like with people—also adds so much possibility with infinite physical eccentricities. Now add in physics, the invisible forces of nature that reveal themselves only through their effects on his body, constant and fleeting, and then we have a really wonderfully messy equation. Then the magic of the moment injects its own effects that make that "snapshot" so completely unique. What a changeable, fascinating, always-inspiring setting in which to express this marvelous creature! Point is—trying to cram this animal into a box of our own making will only bust the seams.  

"Huzzah!"

You'll hear me say this in response to all sorts of things, but essentially it boils down to this: Acknowledge and celebrate your moments of accomplishment or revelation! And even "bad" things can warrant a "huzzah"! So don't hold back! This art form is hard enough, fraught with failure and criticism, so when something great happens—huzzah! When you leap over those obstacles and realize your vision finally—hazzah! When your peers place well in a show—huzzah! When you fall on your face but get back up to start again, better armed—huzzah! When you discover something totally surprising you were wrong about—huzzah! When your new media is really giving you a run for your money—huzzah! When you've had to make the nth correction to get it just right—huzzah! When you've had an unexpected artistic epiphany—huzzah! When you got last place but figured out why—huzzah! 

There's a lot of great reasons to huzzah so don't be stingy! Celebrating your moments of triumphs, discovery, effort, courage, learning, and failure lends balance to an otherwise taxing art form. No small measure of progress is actually small—it's huge! You did it! Something exists now that didn't before because you pulled it out of the ether and made it real. So be chuffed about the whole endeavor, failure or success, eager for more. Huzzah!

"Embrace the past, relish the present, forge into the future."

Never forget where you came from...humble beginnings, getting lots of help and support, and being confused, starry-eyed, intimidated, scared, overwhelmed, wildly inspired, and wow-ed. You were a beginner once, too. When we remember this, we stay better grounded and perhaps find more meaning to our arting. But keep the past in the past. It's gone, over and done with. Fixating on it can just cause undue grief or distraction, and that can lead to a lot of negatives. You can still look ahead while remembering the past, pulling from it what's useful but just keep it in perspective.

As for right now, you've worked hard to get here, so savor your successes, accomplishments, and especially your failures. They've all taught you something. Value your peers and colleagues and collectors, always. They're part of your support system. Hold close to heart your new challenges and struggles. They're your pathways to your destiny. But don't get stuck in the present. Yes, we need to be mindful of the now, focus and rethink. But we need to look to the future, too. There's no way to get where we're supposed to go by staying in one place. So try to avoid static thinking like, "I don't need to change my work," or "I'm as good as I'm ever going to get." Even despondence like, "everybody is getting better then me so what's the point?" Reach for more with every piece, no matter how meager the effort. It's cumulative.

And so, keep marching forwards even if you fall flat on your face. Everything adds up to where you're supposed to go. And know your goals, even if they're simple and modest. Understand too that things will always evolve and change and so should our work, and that's exciting! Yet still be patient with yourself—things happen in their own time. Your march into the future won't be a constant rhythm of footfalls and there will be times when you're pushed back a few steps. It's okay, it's normalthat's life. Just keep marching forwards, even in any direction.

"Create from your he-art."

Heart and art, two things that go better together. Listen to your gut then and follow it, wherever it may lead. It knows the right way to go. 

And work to put soul into each piece. Don't just create "a new piece," think about sculpting a new soul, too. Explore the heart of this animal because they're so much more than what we do with them. They're more than a utilitarian thing. An object. A representation. They're an autonomous creature with a rich inner landscape, with their own reality, perspectives, and motivations. And though not always to our liking, these things are valid from their point of view. 

And put your whole self into each piece. Throw yourself into it. Give it your all. You'll develop faster, find a lot of satisfaction in the hard work when you're done, and discover that you can surprise yourself in wonderful ways. You have so much potential in you, but only if you give it your full he-art.

"Hope is a lighthouse."

There's the term "fog of war" in which the soldiers have no clue what's around them as they advancethe fogyet must continue nonetheless to persevere in battle. Or, for example, in Dungeons and Dragons, a DM may actually put down some paper to obscure where the players are going on the map, pulling it back as they advance. 

Creativity is exactly the same way. We may have a mission, a goal, but getting there means we go through the fog of uncertainty because anything can happen getting there. And it's hope—and only hope—that keeps you going. It funnels gumption, determination, discipline, innovation, problem-solving, hard work, rethinking, inspiration, and everything else that generates the happy outcome of a finished piece. Without hope, we stop and we despair. Without hope, we don't believe in ourselves, we don't believe tomorrow can be a better day in the studio, that the next piece can be closer to our expectations, that we can figure it out despite the challenges. The fog is a bleak, oppressive place if you don't have something brilliant pulling you forward, keeping the promise alive. And you don't have to have a lot—just a little bit will do. You only need a speck of light to fumble through the dark one little step at a time.

And here's the thing, the more pieces you finish, the bigger that light becomes, calling you forward brighter and brighter. Many call this "confidence," but I like to think of it as simply more hope. Obstacles become challenges, despondency becomes incentive, uncertainty becomes puzzles, intimidation becomes courage, fear becomes curiosity. Hope simply flips the equation and changes the narrative, creating an exceedingly powerful force within you.

"When you need to learn, teach."

The adage, "He who can, does; he who cannot, teaches," (George Bernard Shaw) is so wildly wrong, I don't even know where to start. Instead, I believe the idea, "Those who know do, those that understand teach" (Aristotle). Because you want to know where your knowledge gaps are? Teach. You want to know where you're wrong? Teach. Want to know the most current research, ideas, and theories? Teach. Want the benefit of a socially-induced pool of knowledge? Teach. You have to really know your stuff to teach because someone else will always take things sideways, which is a good thing. 

Teaching also clarifies our own ideas, processes, and knowledge base for ourselves, something valuable as we amass more with experience. But it doesn't have to be extravagant! Just getting out there and casually talking about how you do things, what you've learned, what your ideas are, even just showing what you're doing can be enough to generate an impromptu classroom. Social media is a goldmine for this, but don't forget blogs and videos, things also relatively easy to do. Some have even ramped it up with books, seminars, and workshops! There's plenty of ways to create a learning circle for a win-win. Knowledge really is best shared rather than hoarded because we're a social species that accomplishes amazing things by sharing information. Indeed, the more brains that work a problem, the more solutions and options there are for everyone.

"The horse is the best teacher."

On that note, even so, when all is said and done, it's still our subject that has the last word. They're our example, our standard, and our revealer. Have a question you cannot find an answer to? The horse will have it. Want to test information? Refer back to them. Don't understand how something quite works? Study them more. Learn directly from the horse because they'll never give you a wrong answer.

What does that all boil down to? Lots and lots of study. Field study, photographs, illustrations, charts, diagrams, books, videos, or anything that draws from the actual horse can provide the foundation and the clarifications. The best of these however is field study. The more of it you do, the better your work will become. There's no substitute for getting up close and personal. The second is high quality video, and hit the freeze or rewind button as many times as you need. After that are high quality photographs because they freeze key moments. In this, comparison study is a powerful tool for a deep understanding so stack up those images to study their commonalities, differences, subtleties, and tendencies. It's amazing what this alone can program into your brain. Printed text or illustrations are also handy, and sometimes the only way to practically relay the information. For example, anatomy illustrations, data on color and pattern, breeds and their variations, and other things like that can be easily learned from high quality text sources.

What's the real point of all this work? Well, not only to absorb the data, but to also generate a deep mental library and to expand your knowledge base. This is precisely why the more pieces you finish, the faster these two things grow as a natural byproduct of having to tackle so many challenges. It's also why established artists create things faster—they're drawing from a long-earned mental library and knowledge base that fills in the gaps more efficiently. 

We also need to refine our way of looking at the animal into a savvy Eye. There's a huge difference between seeing and Seeing, between looking and Observing. In this, it's not enough to just know information, we have to decipher and translate it effectively, as well. We have to apply it. So train yourself to see beyond the obvious and take nothing for granted. That's to say, work to develop X-ray vision and the Eye of a laser scanner. Every detail, movement, ripple, jiggle, squish, shift, bump, twist, rotation, stretch, flicker, expression, or any other tweak counts. And there's really no truly "neutral" position with a horse since even a standing one is still moving in some way. It's a lot to process, a lot of data to absorb to be sure, but even if we acquire just a teensy bit more with each piece, we're progressing.

So this is where artistic exercises come in to hone your Sight. For example, as you study, think about sculpting or painting that area too—really doing it with your tools. How would you do that? What are the positions you'd hold your tool? Your swiping patterns? How and where would you soften or crispify? What hue of pigment would you use? How would you mix it? How much pigment would you have on our brush? What kind of brush would you use? The more you pin down exactly how you'd do it before you do, the keener attention you'll pay. In this, think of your piece as a blank canvas that you have to "fill up" so how do you do that? For example, think about using the cut-out technique of training your Eye. Take a sheet of white printer paper and make a hole or "frame" in the middle then lay the sheet onto a photo, revealing just the portion inside the hole. Now you can really get in there and study what's actually happening without the distraction of the larger image, without the "noise" of the peripheral visual. What we're actually doing with this exercise is tricking our brain's pattern recognition response because when we look at the whole photo, our brain defaults to "whole horse" and we can lose sight of all the finer details. But when we remove "whole horse," the brain is forced to find new patterns, which it'll do within that paper frame in short order. So, say, for an 8x11" photo, make a  1" hole cut in the middle of the white paper (and scale up or down with respective photos). Then shift that over the horse in the photo. It's amazing what will pop out at you now!

Your Journey Home

Well, that's it. Wrap it all up and you've got some cookies to take with you and your breadcrumbs to follow home. I hope some of these tidbits will fortify you as you find your way back. This art form is so hard sometimes and the blowback even harder, but even worse, we're hardest on ourselves. But with just a small perception shift, a bit of insight given at the right moment, everything can change, especially in how we treat ourselves. Because what an artist needs most perhaps is perspective. To stand on a cliff with that breeze blowing on a clear day, gazing out over the vast expanse to take in the big picture. We can too easily get caught up in minutae and overthinking. So "stay on target," "follow your bliss," "the horse is the best teacher," and "find your way home" and you'll be just fine. Art on!

"I live in my own little world. But it's ok, they know me here."
— Lauren Myracle

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Sunday, August 20, 2023

Moving Forwards With Fear



Creating art isn't for sissies or put another way, it’s not for the faint of heart. Sure, it’s got its charms, but at the same time, it’s fraught with some pretty powerful lows, lows powerful enough to compel some people to stop or not even start at all. Lows strong enough to give even the most accomplished artist a run for their money despite all their success. This is because the act of birthing something that never existed before brings with it certain cautions that can blindside or even overwhelm us if we aren't prepared. Indeed, when we bring something forth from our insides, something that's inherently deeply personal, we poke a sleeping tiger within us, one with a pesky, nagging voice that tries to hold us back. This slumbering beast is fear and we all have it, even the most skilled, famous artist ever. We’re human after all. So the trick isn’t about extinguishing that fear, it’s more about living with it, working around it, moving through it, and creating within it that’s the ace up our sleeve. How do we do this though? Well, brass tacks, it takes the antithesis to fear: love. Love for our muse, love for our efforts, love for the pieces we create, love for the sharing of our works, love for all of it, including ourselves. Elizabeth Gilbert would probably refer to it as "coming home." And from that love emerges courage. A whole lotta courage! Chin up, deep breath, eyes forwards, step forwards and all that. Steeled, resolved, blind courage. But how do we find that within ourselves when it can be so hard to muster? Well, we draw from our moxie, that’s how, the cousin to courage, that “darn the torpedoes” attitude that imbues us with cheek and a bit of recklessness. Because, truly, if there’s one thing fear cannot stop, it’s recklessness! Also birthed by love is another powerful ally in our pushback, good ol' curiosity, that inquisitive streak that draws us forwards in our investigations and creative explorations. Stoke those fires of interest then and you'll find that your fears will quickly take a back seat and pipe down. So find those partners within yourself and cultivate them so they grow wild and free because the more love, courage, moxie, and curiosity you have, the less sway fear has over you. But how do we do that?


Well, perhaps with insight into the nature of that beast, we can begin to see its weaknesses and falsehoods and once we finally do, it looses a lot of its bite force. Oh, it’ll still bite, don’t discount that, but its chomp will simply be a meager pinch and not the tearing trauma it once was. Every human soul wrestles with itself on some level, that's just the way of it, but we can manage it a little bit better with some insight. In this spirit then, let’s explore three big components of creative fear: Imposter syndrome, insecurity, and anxiety. With just a little bit of understanding here we can glean some big pay offs in our ongoing battle against fear.


We work so hard for our successes, don’t we? Long hours, study, earnest work, patience, diligence, concentration, sacrifice, angst…it just goes on and on. So when we finally strike it big and reach the top, it’s like a trumpeting of angels, it’s a tickertape parade, it’s the profound satisfaction of job well done, of having “arrived.” Right? Wrong. More times than not, what actually happens deep down is a lingering sense of being a fraud, a charlatan, an inadequate who doesn’t really deserve the kudos. It’s also a sense that you’ve fooled most people this time but soon that bubble will burst and the big reveal of what a huge joke of a phony you actually are will be obvious to the entire world and it’ll be humiliating, horrifying, and a complete disaster. This is imposter syndrome and to some degree, every successful artist has it. Why? Because it’s a very human response to the absurdity of success. It can be incredibly preposterous and unbelievable to win this proverbial lottery. Yes, we may have invested everything into our success — but plenty of other artists do who never get anywhere, right? So what’s so special about us? It can truly feel like a bubble about to pop because it seems to rely on intangible things that can blow apart at any moment. This is why being told, “Well, you worked so hard, you deserve your success!,” just doesn’t seem to satisfy so much, does it? If anything, it can make things worse. Honestly, so many other artists work even harder, are even more skilled, but who just never seem to win that elusive brass ring. So we don’t feel as deserving in comparison, do we? And that feeling busts past our proper sense of worth and accomplishment with such blithe ease, we can be left completely deflated and worried instead of proud and elated. If we aren’t careful then, some artists find imposter syndrome so debilitating, it can compel them to withdraw, to even stop creating all together! Now this is the disaster! Again, love, courage, moxie, and curiosity will be our saviors here: The love that compels us to create, the courage to continue despite the lingering sense of deceit, the moxie to embrace our success even when we feel we don’t deserve it, and the curiosity to see if we can continue the streak by topping ourselves. Instead then, allow imposter syndrome to morph into humility, a humbleness that instills a sense of gratitude and wonder at the bizarre circumstance of it all. Give yourself permission to enjoy the limelight with grace and generosity — so many others never get that privilege.


Most people are insecure. Heck, probably everyone is on some level about something. Being human has its built-in burdens. When it comes to arting though, a lack of confidence can be a particularly destructive thing. See, the thing is, inspiration is actually an extraordinarily fragile wisp, something supremely vulnerable to fear. So many people are struck by inspiration at some point in their lives but fail to follow through not for a lack of talent or access to materials, but because of a deep-seated insecurity about making it real in the first place. “I’m not good enough,” “I don’t have the talent,” “I just can’t do it,” "I'm not an artist," and a litany of other self-perceived deficiencies plague too many folks. So much art never gets born this way! But it doesn’t end there. Know it or not, even established artists can struggle with a lack of confidence on a daily basis. Many wildly famous performers struggle with crippling stage fright, for instance. The truth is though: This is normal. It’s normal and natural to question your abilities when faced with big goals and lofty ambitions. And the bigger the dream, the harder the questions. So again, the workaround isn’t to deny it, but to embrace it — take hold of your insecurities and start to pick them apart, start to see what generates them. Here, curiosity will be particularly helpful to you. Could it have been a callous comment directed to you as a child about your art? Could someone you admired have made a careless comment about what you created? Are you comparing yourself to others and thinking you come up short? Are you afraid of shame and ridicule? What’s getting in between your inspiration and your follow through? Here, too, courage and moxie can be assets because at some point, you'll just have to throw caution into the wind and jump in. Don’t let inspirations wither away! Chase after them, make them real out of sheer gumption and in spite of your fear. And here love can jump in to deliver a one-two punch because here's the thing: That inspiration came to you — and only you — out of all of history. Listen to it, follow where it leads, give it your whole heart and, absolutely, you’re going to surprise yourself in ways you never imagined! Do that enough times and you learn to hold confidence more firmly. Because that’s the thing — confidence isn’t only something someone just has. Confidence can also be learned, and learned by doing something over and over again so you become proficient at it. Learning and confidence are sisters. And in all actuality, confidence is overrated. All we really need is the willingness to keep going despite our insecurities. Stubbornness and resolve can be great fakes for confidence! So have the courage to keep going just one more step and find that moxie within yourself to fling yourself into the fray even when you’re questioning everything you’re doing. And always hold tightly onto the love you have swirling inside you for what you're doing because it can bust through any roadblock. Mix all that together and you've got a potent concoction because, above all, you’ve got to be willing to give yourself the chance to surprise yourself!


This brings us to our latent anxieties about arting, or more to the point, the fear of making mistakes, of not being perfect. The fact is that when we art though, we're going to fail. That’s inevitable. We're going to fail and fail a lot. We’re going to lose count of all our faceplants. But that’s not the gist of the matter, is it? Because what many people mistakenly assume is that a mistake is the end. Stop, it’s over! You screwed up! Game over! But, no! See, what they haven’t figured out yet is that a mistake isn’t the end — it’s the beginning. A mistake is the start of improvement, the prerequisite to success, the pathway to enlightenment! Absolutely, mistakes are learning itself. No artist ever created without making mistakes! No artist simply cranks out high caliber work without first earning it through a slew of missteps! We have to be pretty bad at something before we get pretty good at it! In fact, it’s the artists who make a ton of mistakes and learn from them who advance the fastest with the deepest understanding. And remember this: Whatever you make, you can unmake, and make again! You are the creator and destroyer here. Making corrections is perfectly fine as you go, too, there's nothing wrong with using your eraser! You never have to commit to the first attempts. Most art ever created goes through a series of revisions and refinements as it evolves, nothing unusual about that. Mistakes are simply part of the process of creation. So bring on the mistakes! Big ones, little ones, stupid ones, surprising ones, confusing ones…bring them all on! May they be glorious and grand! Every mistake we ever make will unlock our potential more and more. And know this: Every artist has a Bad Art Day and every artist creates bad art at some point. That’s all part of the learning process and the journey of discovery. In this light, bad art isn't a failure, it's a stepping stone. If anyone has a problem with that, well, that’s on them, not you. You got this! Because here, again, courage and moxie will serve you well — the courage to try again, always again, and the moxie to remember that all you’ve learned is just one more powerhouse in your arsenal! Curiosity lends a big helping hand, too, because you'll need that for troubleshooting, study, critique, and investigation. And, of course, love leads us by the gentle hand, always guiding us forwards. Just remember that you’re in control here so don’t let the fear of mistakes take it from you. Embrace your mistakes, rejoice in them, and soon that nagging fear will transform into even more curiosity. “How will I mess this up?” can really mean, “What amazing thing will I learn today?,” can’t it? Frame it that way and you’re well on your way! What's more, Brené Brown has a lot of sound advice for you when it comes to criticism, whether from other people or self-inflicted.


Art isn’t to be trifled with. It asks us to be monumentally vulnerable, and that's by no means an easy feat for anyone. So sure we can engage art on a whim, which is great and necessary from time to time, but if we're diving in deeper, it becomes a path, a Way. See, if we’re doing it conscientiously, we’re also learning, even about ourselves, at the same time we bring something new into reality. We create ourselves, too. Framing creativity in this way, as a framework for discovery, isn’t just a mere indulgence, it can be a necessity to root out those very things that hold us back. It’s what also stokes the fires of love, courage, moxie, and curiosity. Every inspiration may be the match, but unless that fire has fuel, it’s doomed to snuff out. So do yourself a favor — cut yourself some slack and allow yourself to be in love, be courageous, be cheeky, and be curious if just to create some art. Often what’s bad for fear is good for you. So give yourself a chance to surprise yourself! You have more to offer than you know, you’re more capable than you believe, and even if no one ever sees what you created, you’ll have the satisfaction of your own journey. Make arting less about creating for approval and more about creating for your own personal satisfaction and you’ll have found that fuel for your inspirational spark you can fan into a rampant blaze of empowerment. When faced with that wall of fire, your fears will back off, making room for the true gift of creativity — joy! And once you've tapped into your joy, it's over for fear. We may always bear our fears to some degree, of course, but joy is a stronger compulsion, one that also happens to feed love, courage, moxie, and curiosity in a positive feedback loop that drives us forwards in the best ways. So while fear may be the swirling storm around you, all that good stuff inside is the rocket fuel that propels you right through with a sonic boom. So it's not about stamping out our fears, it's about engineering a creative attitude that can create joyfully and purposefully in spite of them. Do that and you'll surge forwards with an unstoppable creative empowerment that'll carry you through every challenge! Don't you owe it to yourself to embrace what can bring you such enrichment? Don't let fear rob that from you because — yes — you are deserving of all the treasures arting has in store for you! Tap into your love, courage, moxie, and curiosity, and make those fears take a backseat because you have wonderful things to conjure up! So dial it up to eleven and pop that knob off with joyful abandon! You can be your own art hero!


The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.
— Joseph Campbell



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Thursday, June 29, 2023

Artistic Awareness: The Third Eye Of Creativity

 


As dedicated artists, we endeavor to create our very best work each time we dive in, don’t we? We try so hard and invest so much of our heart and soul into each piece we create. But what if one of the biggest impediments to our work wasn’t our perceived lack of skill or talent, but an issue with something a little trickier? Like our artistic awareness? What is artistic awareness? It’s that learned ability to bring unconscious habits progressively into our conscious creative efforts. What does that mean? In practice, it’s about actively trying to root out our blindspots and plateaus by regularly taking stock in our philosophies, habits, Seeing, and skills then revising as necessary. It’s an active challenge to those notions we lean on, especially the unconscious ones, a regular questioning of what we’re doing and why. When we do this, we can make progressively more effective creative decisions that increases not just the realism and detail in our work, but potentially our enjoyment in what we’re doing by making things more of a curious adventure. 


Because here’s the thing, it’s incredibly easy to get stuck in a force of habit, a formula, a way of doing things that’s familiar and easy to us when it comes to something as difficult as equine realism. This is such a tough art form, it’s surely tempting to find a crutch wherever we can get it. The problem though is that these crutches are linked to our blindspots which lead to plateaus which ultimately stall our progress. Indeed, if we have goals that we’re regularly not reaching, it’s probably because of this problem, not a lack of talent or skill or discipline. This is because it’s our blindspots and plateaus that have more power in our work than our strengths. That may seem like a bit of a Catch-22…and it kinda is…but this realization does put us on a sure path because if we remain cognizant of our creative choices by regularly taking stock in our philosophies and skills, we can fuel-inject our progress. That’s to say, when we understand that blindspots operate right under our noses all the time, to introduce biases, errors, and a grip on obsolete ideas, we have a better shot at rooting them out to make some real progress. There’s a big difference between an unconscious skew and a deliberate decision so making more of our job about the latter, we gain the power to take our work in any direction we want. In this sense then, artistic awareness lets us "self–educate" ourselves in a continued, open–minded, and unafraid way to better See and target those aspects that need attention with greater precision. To brass tacks it then, it’s really this ability that’s the hallmark of an advanced artist. It’s not necessarily the quality of work that's the giveaway, but the ability to consciously create and troubleshoot that demonstrates their prowess. It’s more about expert insight gifted by more deliberate decisions rather than running ramshot in the dark. In a nutshell then, artistic awareness is all about empowerment, the power to gain real and substantial control over our creative decisions. 


Your chances of creating deeply hinge on the quality of your awareness state.

— Eric Maisel


But even more than that, artistic awareness is also about understanding that we’re fallible human beings who’ll make mistakes — and that’s okay. When we can reconcile this, we open the door to not only a lot more objectivity, but also much more inflected kindness, something deeply important in this relentless taskmaster of an art form.


Perhaps then the biggest favor we can do ourselves is learning how to remain a "damp sponge” rather than a dry one or wet one. Why? Well, because a damp one absorbs more than a dry one, right? But a damp one absorbs more than a wet one, too, one already saturated with “enough” ideas. So if we stay learners, we have a better shot at flushing out our blindspots and breaking through our plateaus. Yet we also come to free ourselves from the baggage of criticism, public opinion, misinformation, and even our own doubts and insecurities as we gain more confidence in our own abilities to guide ourselves. Over time, this can lead to less grasping of conventional ideas, habits, and formulas as we morph into something more explorative. Ultimately through artistic awareness then, we gain creative autonomy, a better ability to make our own decisions based on real information that we ourselves have excavated from our work.


Why Is That Important?


When we experience the changes inherent in this kind of journey, we're changed, too. When we open ourselves up to other potentialities, we also find ourselves rethinking what motivates us and that’s actually pretty important. Why?


Well, for one, working in equine realism means we're portraying an animal embedded in a buzzing cloud of ethical questions, value judgments, and differing opinions, all of which we must wade through to come to our own conclusions. Even so, it can get confusing with all the mixed messages out there when we have to make decisions true to our values and goals. Really, most artists make a questionable decision not because they're inhumane, but because they're misinformed. Realism obligates us to a kind of accountability not found in many other art forms so staying grounded and self-educated is key. In this, our convictions may change as we gain more insights and that's a good thing. Forward evolution is always a very good thing. But all this means that if we’re engaging this over-arching journey of Seeing unaltered, chances are we aren't venturing far enough into our internal explorations.


Second, realism has such a high standard, one weighable against the living example—and that's a hard act to follow! And despite all our work, none of us are going to attain 100% objective reality in our clay or pigment or printsand maybe that's a good thing. But how we handle this Don Quixote dilemma then is a measure of ourselves and that's meaningful to appreciate. Because the truth of the matter is there are many different ways to express equine realism accurately, there isn’t One Right Way. There are many paths to the goal! And in this we have room for interpretive style and aesthetic touches that makes each artist unique and each piece truly a miracle.


Third, the difficulty of our quest has many traps lurking in wait for us. The trap of frustration, the trap of envy, the trap of resentment, the trap of rivalry, just to name a few. But when we've truly learned the lesson that artistic awareness gifts us, we cease to compete against each other to instead turn our attention onto ourselves and our own goals, working to establish our own standards and ambitions, and setting out to reach them on our own terms. Because giving 100% to any piece is all we can ask of ourselves, right? So if we stretch, reconsider, scrutinize, and practice to the very edge of our abilities — and that includes challenging our blindspots and plateaus — that will show in our work and keep it vibrant, evolving, and engaging. In doing so, we become less inclined to compare our work and successes with those of others, better preserving our joy and enthusiasm in what we’re doing. Absolutely, there are few things that can kill off our motivation more efficiently than comparing ourselves to others. Stay on target with own your work without apology. Your magic is wholly unique in all the Universe! The magic of other artists isn’t yours — and you don’t need it! Embrace and revel in your own!


Comparison is the death of joy.

— Mark Twain


And fourth, the path to progress is going to be littered with our own internal baggage, burdens that hold us back that are often of a deeply personal nature. For instance, I was invited to critique a lady’s paintjob but in a roundabout way, it ended up not really being about the paintjob. Through some rather pointed guided introspection, she discovered that she was blocking herself not with her choices, but with the awful voice put into her head by her Aunt who once told her as a child that what she drew was wrong — and that voice was still telling her that what she was painting was wrong when it really wasn’t. But it’s often unacknowledged internal battles such as these that can be a chronic roadblock for us which means that how much we’re willing to dig, confront, and reconcile can sometimes make or break our progress. Daunting prospect, isn't it? But often necessary.


And, fifth, this brings us to perfectionism. Now I wrote The Perfectionist Paradox about this issue back in 2021 and it’s worth a read. But suffice to say, this art form does ask for a lot of perfection yet this very thing can become our worst monster so easily! Learning to find balance when confronted with this lofty expectation then is a continual effort on our part, but a worthwhile one to mull over from time to time. Indeed, there’s a huge difference between striving for perfection and a fear of failure just as there’s a massive difference between setting high expectations and nothing ever being up to snuff. We have to accept mistakes and see them for what they really are: Learning. So what is driving our perfectionism? Fear? Ambition? Curiosity? Maybe a bit of all three? Really root around and get to the heart of the matter. Truly, discovering its engine can do a lot not just for our improvement, but a lot more for our creative happiness in the long run.


Sixth, given the nature of realism, we're going to get stuck on a plateau at some point and will have to somehow scramble our way off. Indeed, if we're approaching our work in a proactive way, each piece will be underscored with a drive to understand more than before, if even just a little bit. Our same ol' modus operandi just isn’t going to help us move forward, will it? How could it? We need new aspects that would boot us out of our self–made status quo. This quote by Albert Einstein comes to mind, “Insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” This art form asks us to evolve forwards so periodically kicking our own status quo to the curb to stretch, explore, challenge, and confront our own conventions is an important part of following through. It can be intimidating and even frustrating, but it’s the only way to pop blindspots and jump off plateaus. It’s so darned easy to lean too much on familiar formulas and comfortable ways of interpretation, isn’t it? All that familiarity is great for sure, but the problem is that it comes with our habitual blindpots, the same ol’ missteps over and over again. We gotta rattle our own cage from time to time to see what falls out!


Seventh, know that our perception is a one–way circuit: Change happens first in our perception to then flow into our work, not the other way 'round. So if we want to fix anything in what we See, we have to target our perception first. Change our Sight and we change our work. Even more though, this also means that our magic wand lies within us! And we each have one — one unique just to us. So if we can accept that we always have a lot more to learn — a lot more opportunities to See differently — we gain a lot more responsiveness and traction in our growth. Hard talk here: It doesn't matter if we believe our methods have worked for us in the past with great success. That may be so. But a plateau is always waiting for those who get too comfortable. The real measure of success is our ability to continue evolving no matter how long we’ve been at this, in whatever direction our own magic takes us.


Human beings, by change, renew, rejuvenate ourselves; otherwise we harden.

— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe


To accept fallibility and to therefore stay open to possibility helps us to continually challenge our own conventional thinking, feeding a drive for discovery so critical for growth. Keep our mind open then, especially about our own potential, and our work will always remain fresh and innovative. Stay curious and always question, especially when we become comfortable in our work.


But know that you aren’t alone. We’ve all been there. It’s all just a natural byproduct of learning to then unlearn to relearn again and again. And we all have to start somewhere right? And from there on in, we all have to restart somewhere, too. And the platform we jump from is our habitual way of doing things, our momentary plateaus. So if we can finagle it so they stay temporary, they become springboards that launch us to the next stage rather than mesas we get stuck on, frustrated and confused. Never underestimate the power of rethinking, reimagining, reevaluating, or the moxie to introduce the unfamiliar, maybe even the radical into our work. Be bold! Be brave! Believe in your gumption! If our blindspots and plateaus live inside us, aren’t we then our greatest obstacle? But then we’re also our greatest hero, right? If the tricky bit lies within us, we can fix it with a bit of self-directed moxie — we got this.


Personal Metamorphosis


And this is the real reason why realism can be so darned hard to master—it's not just a matter of media, technique, concepts, references, interpretations, or our subject. More than anything it's a matter of ourselves. How so? Well, we cannot dig through what we See without first discovering why our skews and blindspots exist in the first place because these are things knitted right into our perception — and that’s rooted in who we are. Rummaging through one dissects the other if we’re digging deep enough. For example, why do we sculpt the eyes so  buggy? Or why do we paint the appy spots so skewed? Why did we paint our ticking so out of scale? What are we Seeing wrong? Why are we Seeing it wrong? What are we not admitting to ourselves? What are we trying to deny or avoid? Why? How can I fix these blindspots? Am I hesitant? Procrastinating? Resistant? Why? How did I end up here? What was I neglecting? Why? Did my ego get in the way? Did I have a skewed sense of quality? Did I become too comfortable in how I do things? Why?


Do you see how this rabbit hole just gets deeper and deeper if we’re really digging? But that’s exactly what’s also needed to proactively root out blindspots and plateaus — we have to address our inner landscape. See, a blindspot or plateau tends to happen for a reason, and one that has less to do with arts technique or media and more to do with personal reasons. Yet it's precisely this introspective feature that's not usually addressed when we consider these things. Make targeted introspection a habit then and we'll find that our inner landscape has far more influence on our media than we ever suspected; what we cannot See in our work is a manifestation of what we cannot See within ourselves and so we may continue to self–sabotage our efforts. Yet this is a very personal matter to unravel and no one can do it for us. We have to be willing to do it at regular intervals, too, because as our skills advance so do our blindspots and plateaus. This exploration isn't always comfortable but we have so much to gain such as artistic and personal growth, and much more connectedness with this lovely creature.


So it's not always inaccessible instruction, inadequate technique, deficient talent, or problematic media that roadblock our way. We can also induce our problems from the inside to skew our Sight. But—hey—that's good news! It means we have the exclusive power to come to our own rescue, doesn’t it? We don't have to depend on anyone or anything—we're in control, and we can do so in our own way, in our own time. It's okay then to question ourselves, our perceptions, our skills, our motivations, our ambitions, our values, and our goals. Indeed, it's a healthy exercise. Nevermind if everything we've ever done has brought us success. A willingness to stay hungry will serve us well.


Art that serves an artist best is an experiment in expanding awareness.

~Peter London


Because consider this: Questioning ourselves doesn't mean we're insecure, paranoid, self–doubting, or overly sensitive. It means we're confident, centered, and devoted enough to give careful thought to what we're doing rather than just blindly doing it. Cogitating our inner experience aligns our consciousness with the creative moment, bringing our locks and keys closer together to release our true talents. Make this a habit and we might be surprised by what we learn about our talents, our subject, and ourselves!


It is a profound human waste for people to go through life half–hearing, half–seeing, and only dimly aware of the range of their own perceptions and capabilities. 

~J. Ken Clark


Think about that for a moment. To me this is a fundamental idea and one I revisit often. Because if we wish to continue moving forward, this notion lies at the base of that adventure, doesn't it? I want to seed this little idea: Excelling in realistic equine sculpture isn't so much about learning the ropes—the ropes will always be there, dangling for anyone to grasp—but instead it has more to do with learning about ourselves since we're the only ones who perceive that particular reality that gets infused into our clay or pigment. This makes realistic equine sculpture not only a creative journey, but a personal one as well. Every challenge or barrier we'll ever encounter is just an expression of something inside us that holds us back, and so it's within our power—and only our power—to tackle it. We created it and so we can conquer it. It’s really just that awesome.


Because in my wanderings through the equine art and horse industry, I've discovered this unexpected truism: The more we come to truly understand ourselves, the better our work becomes. And this is the great final gift the noble equine offers us on this path: We’re transformed into souls able to meet him and our fellows on that special plane found only through Awareness — we can look and finally See each other.


Skill is less important than awareness. 

— Graham Collier


STEM


But to wrap it up in a nice package, we can think of the fruits of artistic awareness as STEM: Seeing more effectively, Translating with greater accuracy, Evaluating with more acuity, and drawing from a Memory with more scope. And the more we develop our awareness, the greater the benefits of STEM. This is because Seeing, Translating, Evaluating, and Memory are four different components that all go into a realistic sculpture or paintjob. We have to better perceive what’s actually there to then interpret that in our clay to then step back and take stock, all the while drawing from a mental library supplemented by field study and reference photos. How well developed these four components are and how well they harmonize together will determine not only the quality of our work but how much we advance with each effort. 


And blindspots hide in each one and so understanding the nature of each component can really help us target their particular soft spots. For instance, if we’re consistently making our front hooves asymmetrical with each other but we can see that they’re annoyingly asymmetrical, we have a Translation blindspot problem. Something about our tools or technique is going haywire and so we need a new method to sculpt hooves. Or on the other hand, if we’re habitually sculpting faces in the same way, we might have a blindspot in our Memory. Here then we need to expand our knowledge base to include more manifestations of cranial shape, facial musculature, and textural details through more varied field study and analysis of reference photos. Now if we suspect there is a problem in, say, that appy pattern, but we can’t put our finger on it, chances are we have a blindspot in our Evaluation process — we need better troubleshooting techniques. But perhaps the trickiest of all blindspots to ferret out are those that lie within our Sight because they entail our perception filter of reality. It’s hard to see how we’re going wrong when we live inside the proverbial fishbowl. In this then we need to employ more artistic exercises, study, comparisons, and research — and more practice — to hone our Sight into something less burdened by habitual crutches. 


Learning to tease out our blindpots into these four components can really help us bust them apart easier and faster because we now have a kind of system, don’t we? We have a plan, a method, not just a shot in the dark. Actively develop your STEM and you’re well on your way to independent, autonomous progress at a pace you might not have thought possible of yourself! How cool is that?


Summing Up


Learning to develop our artistic awareness isn’t just a basic step forwards, it’s the foundation for all our steps forwards, one that will always sustain our growth and support every direction we choose. And through a more developed STEM, we can then better identify the quirks in our efforts that give rise to our blindspots and plateaus to become more fearless in rethinking what we believe to be self–evident in our work. We won’t ever root out all our blindspots or avoid all plateaus, we’re human after all. And would we really want to? Maybe not. But we can certainly continually deepen our awareness and intensity our STEM whenever we feel we need a bump forwards. And this is the quality of an artist who excels — they play the long game, using each piece as a kind of stepping stone towards their artistic goals. That’s to say they don’t become complacent and comfortable, but instead stay hungry for evolution and discovery. They stay learners. Their perception thus remains plastic and adaptable and so their Sight ever-evolves forwards, with each piece being a bigger discovery than the previous. And it’s through artistic awareness that we first open the door to all these gifts. Discover it, develop it, and employ it and you’ll find that Third Eye that guides you more effectively through any piece you undertake. Even more though, you’ll find that you’re capable of far more than you ever dreamed possible and what better view of your inner self is that?


"The eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend." 

— Henri Bergson


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