Update on Creative Paralysis & Procrastination

So I've tried to follow what I wrote last week, trying to build up that "one thing" creative savings account throughout the week so that my weekends are relatively task-free.

Tuesday I did this one thing:

If you haven't heard about MOO cards, check it out -- it's fun, very user-friendly and you can't beat the price! I love the tips that other artists and marketers share. I will post a pic when I get mine next week.

Wednesday I did this one thing:

I have used this company before -- again, very efficient and easy on pricing: Documounts for custom-cut mats and backing, as well as a host of other accessories most artists need.

And today I cheated a bit -- nothing to help my art business but rather something to help my spirit. We all need that from time to time, don't we? I found Copper Canyon Press, a wonderful publisher of contemporary and international poetry. What I love about the site is that you can sample bits of poetry from the various books and then share them via email with friends and colleagues. Cool! If you download their catalog, you can browse through and read excerpts. That's where I found a backlist of Pablo Neruda's works -- excellent treat for such a wet and dreary day.

So now I've cleared the deck of "have-to-do's" and can devote that much more time to working on the art. I've still got so much more to do before the Hartford Open Studio weekend, but now I feel I've achieved a bit more balance by keeping the menial things off to one side.

Out of clutter find simplicity;

From discord find harmony;

In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.

Albert Einstein

Creative Paralysis

Last weekend I was feeling overwhelmed with too many projects, deadlines for shows, my workspace cluttered and confusing, other demands on my time. I know that when this becomes unbearable, I become paralyzed with not knowing where to start, what to put aside and often just wondering where the heck is everything I need to get started?

So much you want to accomplish but so little time . . . sigh.

And then that growing stagnation, that feeling of why bother? begins to take hold.  Did you hear that?  That was the sound of your creative life coming to a screeching halt, of slamming into the wall of despair.  This happens in my work life, too -- budgets, grant deadlines, building projects, keeping up with technology -- the list goes on and on.

What to do?

We've all heard it -- the whole is the sum of the parts, but sometimes there are just too many parts, and they tend to scatter like a herd of kittens.  The solution is not to be overwhelmed by the big picture but to deal with the parts one at a time.  Not easy to do in this society that thrives on multi-tasking, is it?

So back to basics, back to dealing with the one part, to distill all the lists to one element that is conquerable, do-able now, today, this minute, this hour.

Just do one thing today, just one thing that will help your art, your passion.

Just do one thing that will take no more than an hour, preferably less.

One thing, no matter how small or insignificant, that you can point to when done and say it is done.

One

Thing

And when you've finished, you will write that one accomplishment down and feel good about it.

And tomorrow you will start again -- just one thing.

And as the days go by, these one things will add up so that by the weekend you will not feel as stressed to get ALL things done because you've accrued these little one things all week, a kind of creative savings account.

And you can feel good about that.

Two books I recommend are:

Twyla Tharp's The Creative Habit

Eric Maisel's Fearless Creating

It's that time of year again. Autumn is creeping in, bringing roiling skies and chilled winds from the north. The light is fading earlier each evening and, no matter how I race home from work to grab a few minutes on the deck, I never quite make it, the light dipping down below the stand of pines . . .

This season is quite dull, so far. The tropical storms from late August ripped so many trees apart, scattering branches and leaves that now there isn't much for autumn to work with -- all is sere and brown.  The splendor of a New England autumn is a faint memory from years past . . .

But the beauty of autumn is still there if one looks hard enough, long enough. Maybe it's not something you see but rather feel through the other senses -- the smell of the north winds, the crisp cold air that tingles and tantalizes, the first bite of pumpkin pie or a macintosh apple, the warmth one gathers from the fireplace, a truly wonderful spot to sit and dream . . .

 

weaving thoughts and memories around like so many strands of ribbon and yarn. And as the garden slowly moves into its yearly slumber, a stand of old bourbon roses waves as you wander by, lifting their drowsy heads to give one last scent, a parting gift . . .

A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively,

wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically

that he remakes it in his own image.

Joan Didion

(all artwork and photography by K. Marszycki)