How to kick monkey butt.

I’ve written a lot about the nature of the inner critic that confounds our creativity. And so far, I’ve urged you to fight it by just getting to work. That may not be as easy as all that, so let me be more specific with some ways you can push past that hectoring little voice in your head.

Just start. Do one small drawing on one small piece of paper. A Post-It. Or draw a loose grid on your sketchbook page and fill in one single square with a line drawing of your foot. Whistle while you do it. If the monkey starts to grumble, hum louder. Push off that inner criticism for 120 seconds until you can get something down on the page.

Creating something, anything, can break the logjam. And it can give you something to look back at hours later, to get excited about. Initially, the monkey may sneer about your tiny attempt but go back at it and look at it again. Find something to love in it. It’s in there.

Don’t talk about it. If you are having block, don’t endlessly discuss it and seek solace from others. The more you do, naming it and broadcasting it, The more you solidify the block, the more of  a living entity it becomes. Give it a name and you give it power. Stress over it and you become twisted and jailed.

My words here are a double-edged sword. I want you to be able to see that your problem is a common one, that you don’t suck any more than the rest of us. But the more we dwell on this discussion, the more attention the monkey gets, and the less time we are spending making something.

Give him a banana.  Try holding out some sort of reward to yourself. A bribe to get it done. Say, “if I do three drawings today, I can buy a new fountain pen. ” “Or I can watch TV for an hour if I draw during three of the commercial breaks”. Or “I can eat that donut, if I draw it first .”

Use this tool judiciously. You don’t want to end up obese, broke, or in jail.

donut

Get your lazy ass up. If the monkey tells you are a hopeless slug, agree with him. Tell him you want to improve and so you are going to set the alarm a little earlier and start the day right. Sit down and draw before your first cup of coffee. Fifteen minutes of drawing the reflections in the toaster as the coffee perks. Monkeys are lazy bastards too and they can’t get it together so early. I find I do my best work before I start reading email and talking to people and dealing with the day. Then for the rest of the day, I glow with that knowledge that I have already made art today and the rest is gravy. By knocking out a few drawings with the dawn, you will lubricate the wheels of habit while the monkey turns over and keep on snoring.

Do something you definitely suck at. Buy a medium that’s absolutely new to you. Draw on your iPad for the first time. Paint with ketchup on the kitchen counter. Play the digeridoo. By doing something you have never done before, you have the perfect excuse for sucking. If the monkey pops up, you can say, yes, yes, I know but this is my first time. Have fun. You’re making something. Sure, it’s no good. But keep going. Keep making. Keep exploring.

The great ape debates. If you can’t screen out your monkey, tune him in. Really put his critiques to the test. Ask the monkey to take the stand. Grill him.  But this time bring your inner lawyer to dissect his arguments.

Give the primate the benefit of the doubt. Take his arguments at face value and see if they hold any water. Maybe you do have room for improvement — none of us is perfect. You can learn and grow from self-examination. The thing we must avoid is self-destruction and abuse.

So, write down his complaints about you and come up with strong rational responses.  Write these down too. Next time the monkey levels these same criticisms at you, just tell him, “I’ve heard you and responded to the charges. What else you got?”

Stock your own arsenal. Sit down, like I’m doing, and come up with a bunch of ideas to trick yourself into sitting down and coming up with a bunch of ideas. If you want, start by critiquing my suggestions and then making up better ones that will work for you. Hate the idea of getting up at dawn? Fine, then draw at lunch, draw in the train, draw on the toilet. Come on, plus my ideas. What works for you?

The monkeys of yesteryear

old-monkey

Whose voice does your monkey channel?

Remember Linda Blair in The Exorcist?  The devil in her spoke to the priest in his mother’s voice, freaking him the hell out. Who is your demon quoting? Maybe it was the first art teacher who said something casual and cruel: “Remember, most people don’t have talent. I’m sure you’re good at something.” Was it your mother who you overheard telling your dad, “He wants me to pay for that painting class. I gotta break it to him, it’s an utter waste of money.” Was it the dean of the art school who rejected your application? The boss who killed all of your favorite ideas? An article about the percentage of art school grads who now work at Starbucks?

For all too many of us, the monkeys of the past are victimizing us, holding us back. Your shrink will tell you that we just have to realize that those monkey ghosts are only alive become we resuscitate them. You can defeat the specters by making stuff, by asserting your talent, by ignoring the grey-bearded monkey ghosts rehashing childhood bullshit. Want to relive an ancient drama? Read Hamlet.

Tell yourself this and believe it: whatever voice you’re hearing, it’s just a spectre. Whatever sword carved the scars into your psyche, you have the power to move past it. As grownups, we have the ability to see that the affronts and critiques of the past are just puffs of air that have long since dissipated. Only we carry them forward, re-recording them in the deepest wrinkles of the brain, keeping them alive year after year. 78 to 45 to cassette to CD to MP3. Same old song.

Every cell in your body is replaced every seven years.  You are a completely new being from cerebellum to big toe nails. You have the power to override the rewrite, to define these ancient wounds as irrelevancies that do not bear on the wonderful creature you are today, an emerging artist with great strength and potential.

You can prove your legacy wrong. Oh, your father wanted to go to art school but wasn’t supported by your grandfather and had to become an accountant so he spent your childhood channeling his pain into squashing you? To hell with that. Whatever happened before Watergate has a statute of limitations and should not crush the dreams you had last night. (That’s a little-known federal law).

Time for a fresh start that’s bright and creative.

What disappointments and harsh words are you reliving whenever you think of making art? How can we help you get past them?

I Left My Art in San Francisco…

We had a lovely mini-vacation by the Bay, eating all sorts of things and walking for miles and miles. We had amazing ice cream…

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…at a place with this for its mascot…

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It’s been a bit nippy and drizzly but that didn’t dampen the mood. We bought way too many books and saw so much art everywhere.

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We saw all sorts of beautiful street murals in the Mission, including on one of my favorite of all streets, Balmy Alley:

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I did see the following on a car’s bumper sticker…

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…but then again it was on this car….

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Oh, and I gave my talk at the HOW Design Conference about creativity and sketchbooks. At first, I was a little worried about the turn out…

71885b40dcea11e2947622000a9e138b_7…but ultimately hundreds of people showed up and many came up to say hi afterwards. If you were one of them, I hope you had as much fun in San Francisco as I did.

a2605b5edc7311e2babb22000a1e868c_7Tomorrow morning, back to New York.  (I’ve done way too much traveling of late.)

 

Courage

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“Conference room. San Ramon, California”. 2013. Blood, sweat, ink and watercolor

What does it take to lead a truly creative life? What demons must you slay? What ancient voices growl from deep within your head, chanting familiar curses?

What can art do to show you the way? How do other artists embolden you and say, “It is possible. It really is.”? Do you think of Van Gogh in his shack, deciding to abandon the ministry to paint through his remaining days?

What is the price of golden handcuffs? How firmly does Money hold you by the tail, insisting it will never share your love and attention? Can art ever compete?

What do the people around you say? Do they encourage you to leap? Or pepper you with their own doubts?

Are you willing to be selfish? What’s the cost?

What are your fantasies about the way it could be? What does the best day look like? What about the scariest one? How does your grimmest fantasy compare with the worst trial you’ve ever actually endured— and overcome?

What does it take to root your life in passion, rather than necessity and obligation?

How many days do you have left on this earth? How many of them belong to you?

When, finally, will the time come?

Baltimore!

Jenny & I and Tommy Kane & Yun drove down to Baltimore for the weekend. Our main objective was to eat crabs. And we certainly did that. crab a1c1921ab44d11e2950722000a1fc86f_7 We also stumbled into a half-dozen divey bars around town. This was one of our faves: bad decisions Baltimore also turned out to have some amazing art on virtually every corner: atomicman

We saw this Amish version of the Scream propped in someone’s window. scream

The art highlight of the trip was  a visit to The American Visionary Art Museum. AVAM They don’t allow cameras inside, so check out their site for more.AVAM pig It’s  a museum devoted to untrained artists and it is so moving, inspiring and awesome.  AVAM car I’ll be thinking about what I saw for months to come.  It is well worth a return trip just to reexamine everything again. black and white We also went to the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival and drew critters and ate funnel cakes. sheep sheep2 sheep3 dog in nest

The weather was amazing. jENNY James

And it was a fantastic time with some of my favorite peeps.

tom and yun

Three Years after Pink

“Tickled Pink” by Kevin Kling

At times in our pink innocence, we lie fallow, composting waiting to grow.
And other times we rush headlong like so many of our ancestors.
But rush headlong or lie fallow, it doesn’t matter.

One day you’ll round a corner, your path is shifted.
In a blink, something is missing.
It’s stolen, misplaced, it’s gone.
Your heart, a memory, a limb, a promise, a person.

Your innocence is gone, and now your journey has changed.
Your path, as though channeled through a spectrum, is refracted, and has left you pointed in a new direction.

Some won’t approve.
Some will want the other you.
And some will cry that you’ve left it all.
But what has happened, has happened, and cannot be undone.

We pay for our laughter.
We pay to weep.
Knowledge is not cheap.

To survive we must return to our senses, touch, taste, smell, sight, sound.
We must let our spirit guide us, our spirit that lives in breath.
With each breath we inhale, we exhale.
We inspire, we expire.

Every breath has a possibility of a laugh, a cry, a story, a song.
Every conversation is an exchange of spirit, the words flowing bitter or sweet over the tongue.
Every scar is a monument to a battle survived.

Now, when you’re born into loss, you grow from it.
But when you experience loss later in life, you grow toward it.
A slow move to an embrace,
an embrace that leaves you holding tight the beauty wrapped in the grotesque,
an embrace that becomes a dance,
a new dance,

a dance of pink.”

It’s three years today since you left, Pandy. I will always miss you.

Traveling

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I’m on a quick trip and will be back in a week — at which point I’ll continue to post my video interviews from An Illustrated Journey. Meanwhile, I’m working on my own travel journal…

Backblog 2

Just to recap and explain my absence over the past months, here are some souvenirs from my second consecutive shoot. We are making a big commercial that will run on Thanksgiving Day — if you watch American TV for even a minute on November 22, you’ll certainly see it. If not, I’ll post a copy later this month.

We filmed around New York City and Westchester in the days leading up to the arrival of Hurricane Sandy. In fact, we wrapped the evening the storm finally arrived on our shores.

Fall is here.

Our first location. This seems like ages ago, an idyllic Fall day in Brooklyn. Now all of these leaves have been blown away by the hurricane. Hopefully the house is still standing.

Jeff shoots in Ocean Park.

My director Jeff and I have made commercials together for over 20 years. We’ve shot in New York, California, Chicago, and Rome and the results are always spectacular. He’s one of my favorite creative collaborators and I can’t wait to see his feature film, scheduled to come out next year.

One of the three complete Thanksgiving dinners we prepared and shot.

We shot three scenes with large, extended, real families making and sharing Turkey Day. The food styling was extraordinary and cornucopian.

The crew films in a nut store on Brooklyn’s Atlantic Ave

We used real stores, streets, yards and homes as our locations.

Never mind the Bollexs. My director’s 16 mm. cammeras.

Jeff shot with several different cameras, film and digital: 35 mm., a Canon 5D, a Canon C300, and his personal collection of Bolexs.

A glass-blowing forge

We filmed a master craftsman as she and her team blew extraordinary glass vases.

Relics of the Industrial Age.

We shot a factory scene in a  giant warehouse full of old machines from New York’s dwindling manufacturing industry.

This isn’t a scene from “Armageddon” or “Independence Day”. It’s just the first arrival of Sandy on our shores.

On our final Day, we shot high atop the World Trade Center where crews were battening down their gear as the wind picked up.  Then we hired a ferry to drive us back and forth past the Statue of Liberty as the sky grew menacing.

First returns.

Jack took the bus down from Providence last night so he could vote today. It’s his first time voting and his first time home since going away to college.

Tim and Joe went crazy when they first saw/smelled him.It’s been great to have him home, if even for just a few hours.  We immediately slid back into old habits, ordered in Italian food, watched TV and talked about art. It was even nice to see Jack’s socks abandoned on the living room rug.

Sadly, he’ll be back on the northbound bus before dinner.

Backblog

Now that my house is back to normal, I want to catch up on the all things I have been doing for the past month.

Shoot #1:  Three weeks ago, I traveled to Los Angeles to shoot some commercials for AIDS Day (December 1st). We filmed near Santa Clara in a fantastic location, an entire Mexican village that was built just to be used as a set. It has a half-dozen streets lined with bars and churches and various hovels, all uninhabited and weathered in the hot California sun. I’ve used it as a stand in for West Africa twice now.

The new sherriff in town.
The town doctor.
Filming in our traditional African village. Tortillas on the side.
My limo awaits.

Back in LA, we shot in an abandoned hospital which was still full of equipment and supplies. It was like something from “The Walking Dead,” and filled me with an eerie feeling that resurfaced during last week’s power outage in New York.

This emergency room needs an emergency room.
Spell check. Stat!
I napped in here.
This left me in stitches.
A good subject for a drawing.

The shoot went very smoothly (I’ll post a link to the commercials when they’re done) and then I flew back to New York and immediately went into production for another client, shooting around the city and environs. More on that in my next post…