Tag Archives: fear

An Artist’s Apology

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“This is a man’s sport… You can’t go in there with doubts. You can’t accept failure, and you certainly can’t go into a situation thinking, ‘Oh, gosh, what’s going to happen?’ You make what’s going to happen. This game isn’t for negative emotions, or being scared.” – Brian Wilson, San Francisco Giants pitcher, as quoted in the SF Chronicle

Mr. Wilson is talking about baseball, of course, but this quote really struck a chord with me.

My disclaimers: Sports and Dance are close cousins. I think professional dancers and athletes share physical ferocity, grace, and attitudes. And isn’t this world STILL “a man’s sport”? Isn’t the art world, too? It definitely feels like it sometimes.

My other disclaimer: What follows is by no means a finished or polished manifesto or artist statement. But it’s probably better that way. It’s just a continuing discussion.

DONE WITH DISCLAIMERS! Onward…

Lately, I’ve been struggling with my confidence in many areas of my life – work, dance, art, love. I find myself constantly wondering, “What is my direction?” What is my focus? What am I striving for? Why am I always pushing myself and doing what others consider to be “too much.” Is it too much? Why do I stretch myself over several arenas of art instead of staying in just one?

The answer is is that I can’t help myself. I love art. And I have a wide-spectrum understanding of all that the word “art” may encompass. Above all, I love creating, so I don’t feel the need to limit myself to one medium. And here’s the thing – I’ve begun to realize that the art, and the things that I make – choose me.

Recently, I started a new dance for camera project. I really felt stuck at some points in the process. I haven’t even looked at the footage yet, but I have this underlying fear that nothing I shot was worthwhile. But time limits my ability to re-shoot. I know I’ll have to work with what I’ve got. At one point in the process, I wondered, “Why am I doing this? I have so much going on – why can’t I just set this aside? Maybe even – dare I say it – give up on it?”

There are projects like that, I know – where you have to just understand that maybe now is not the time for it to happen. But this was not one of those projects. I know because as soon as I had that thought, my next thoughts turned to how many people I had talked to about this project, how long I had been thinking about it, the band who had agreed to contribute the music to it, even the nameless, voiceless, subjects of inspiration – this project was for them now. It’s not about me.

This is how art and dance and creating takes on spiritual connotations for me at times. I know what I’m making is good and true and solid when it feels pulled out of me – like I’m a channel for something bigger than me.

I constantly return to a quote from one of my favorite novels – Sabriel, by Garth Nix: “Does the Walker choose the Path, or the Path the Walker?” The way I rephrase it when it comes to my work is: “Does the Artist choose the Art, or the Art the Artist?”

This new dance for camera project has many themes, but the main one – and perhaps the one that I return to in most of my work – is mystery. I am drawn to mystery. Maybe this is why I feel at home in modern dance, which is an abstract art form. For me, the question is always more intriguing than the answer. In my pieces, I try to ask good questions rather than preachy answers. Of course my work is imbued with my “answers”  – my perspective, opinions, background, socio-economic status, etc. I know that I only have so little control over that aspect. But I hope in a dedication to mystery, my work becomes accessible to my audience. (There is always the danger that they are not interested in the questions being posed, but that’s another factor I have little control over that.)

What I’ve learned in making dance and art is that no matter what I plan, how I budget, what I think the piece will look like when finished, the facts remain: The project will ALWAYS take longer than I think, the process NEVER goes according to plan, and the product USUALLY surprises me when finished. (At least I can proudly say, I’ve always been on budget.)
And I am often frustrated by what seems like a lack over control over my own process, but I realize how much making art is an interaction with mystery. Who’s in control here? Again, the Artist or the Art? The vision that I start with is only the seed for the garden that grows over time. We’re not surprised when bare dirt becomes a forest – how can I be surprised when the art that emerges in the end looks very little like what I started with?

This is not to say that I shouldn’t plan or budget or be fully invested in working hard in the process. It’s a balance of that and trusting what’s happening in the moment with the process and knowing that whatever the outcome, that’s what the piece IS. As one of my university mentors, the choreographer Michelle Ellsworth, said, “Listen to your art – what does the PIECE want?”

I hope I’m making sense here. I’m realizing more and more that my thoughts and statements about art really do approach a spiritual confession for me. Heretical, probably, but again, art is more than a hobby or even my passion – it’s my interaction with the Universe.

This thought is helpful to me when I return to that question of why am I striving and pushing so hard? I never feel like what I’m doing is enough. I struggle with the desire and idea of becoming a “professional artist.” What does that even mean? Why do I have certain expectations and images associated with that, that I think I have to adhere to?

My path will not look like anyone else’s.
I make what’s going to happen. But I can trust in the act of making, I am not in control.
I can’t own my art, since it was never mine to begin with – but I can trust my deep underlying drive at being a creator and feeling at one with the Universe when I create.
There’s no room for fear or doubt – only the love of the work.

I’m not poor… right?

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First off, good news: I put up my new zines in my Etsy shop earlier this week and a couple days later, I had my first sales! I couldn’t be more excited! AND I listed the first HellaScarf for sale today with more to come. What’s a HellaScarf? Well, you’d better go find out!

Also, Flickr!

ALSO, today, my chiropractor told me that my back is stable and I can start ramping up my exercise towards dancing again! Huzzah!

The not so good news: If only I could afford dance classes! But I’m on the hunt for more work and am hopeful. Things might be tight financially, but my life is rich in so many other ways.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to “be poor.” I have a childhood memory of standing in my parents’ bedroom, in front of my Dad’s tall, dark wood dresser, and asking, “Daddy, are we poor?” I don’t really remember why I asked. Maybe I was beginning to notice things like my Mom writing down every expense, or how some of my friends’ houses were a lot bigger than ours… I don’t remember feeling ashamed of this idea of “being poor” – I was just curious as to what it meant. I think Dad said something like, “No, but maybe we’re lower middle class.” Which kind of makes me laugh, now.

Now that I know more about the world, I realize what a privileged childhood I had and what amazing parents I have. I’ve always been in awe of how they paid for my education. I often ask myself, “How did they do it?” I’m not totally certain, but I’m pretty sure they’re not rolling in dough. What I think now is: they were careful.

I’m trying to be careful. Trying my darnedest by darning my socks and hoarding quarters for laundry. I budget. I make art and crafts to sell. I don’t have a car (thank goodness). I keep track of my debt because I WILL pay it off.

And I really don’t think I’m POOR. I see too many people on the streets of this city every day to even joke about it. But sometimes I look at my bank account and feel poor. Like most things in life, is “wealth” a state of mind? Money seems so concrete. And I don’t want to be RICH. I’d just like to get by – pay bills and buy groceries. And I realize now how much I’ve wasted on ridiculous things, or buying too much, when I didn’t need to – when I wasn’t so worried about money. Hindsight, you know… But hopefully the challenge is teaching me some very important lessons. And I can embrace a good challenge, right? Like my friend MB said recently, we yearn for stability, but there’s a lot to be said for embracing chaos.

No one likes talking about money, and I feel like that’s all I’ve been talking about lately with folks. I know I’ve been worrying about it a lot lately. But I’m also trying to not get depressed. Asking for help helps. And knowing that I’m driven and will figure it out somehow.

And remembering how much I do have. All the ways I am rich: family, friends, health, creativity, and this city. Oh, this city… I’m glad I’m here!

Steady, steady on…

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The Fog from Potrero Hill

I had a pretty quiet weekend and start to the week as this period of transition continues. B & I had a roommate move out and a new roommate, M, arrive.  I’ve been cleaning and trying to organize the apartment like mad! We moved the studio and I think it’s much better now. The kitchen and bathroom are better. The common area needs a going over. As I clean, I notice a sense of ownership. This isn’t temporary – this is my space.

I’m also finally starting to get my room really set up. It’s been on hold since I moved in in June because I wanted to repair and paint over all the holes in the wall. At long last, this project is underway and 2 of the 4 walls are done. Hopefully by the end of the week, the painting will be done and I can hang shelves and art. I’m still looking for a dresser and a table and wondering how to proceed with the bed situation. AND there’s still all my stuff in CO… I would really like to have all my stuff in one place again. Oh, the lives of stuff… how you come and go!

Another transition taking place is Dr. M’s move to NYC. He has to drive down to LA tomorrow and will fly out from there. Things are really getting down to the wire for him and I’m happy I’ve gotten to see him as much as I have.

I’m doing alright with everything, but there are moments when I feel overwhelmed with unnameable, unmanageable fears.

In her book The Creative Habit, reknowned modern dance choreographer Twyla Tharp talks about fears. She advises getting specific – writing down the fears and then answering them head on. If they’re named, they’re manageable.

Here are my main fears:

1. I will be unable to make a liveable income as a freelance multi-disciplinary artist.
Answer: I’m just now starting out on this, so of course things are tenuous and tight. I just have to keep working and trying and figuring out what’s going to work for me. I have another source of income that’s also just getting settled and is still under adjustment. I need to embrace this time of transition to establish real plans and processes for my freelance work.

2. I’ve invested a lot of time and effort in San Francisco, but is it the right city for me? Am I really happy? Was this just a whim that I’m now stuck with living out?
Answer: The first year anywhere is always the hardest. At times I wish I had stayed in Japan longer simply because life would’ve been more settled and possibly fruitful after a year. SF has been incredibly rewarding and challenging in the 11 months I’ve been here. I’m building my community, but I’m still just getting started. And yes, I think I am happy here. This city is so vibrant and has so much to offer. I have friends and people who care for me. I have plans for this city. It was more than just a whim that sent me here. I could’ve picked any direction, any city, in the States, but I chose SF because it most felt like ME. I’m still discovering it, but I there’s a place for me here.

3. Am I going to be able to dance again?
Answer: My back is still recovering. I haven’t even really been on a break for a month. I HAVE to ease back into dance. And B and I have plans for a dance for camera. Dance and I aren’t through, we’re just reevaluating our approach.

4. Dr. M and I will be unable to sustain a long distance relationship.
Answer: All we can do is try. We’re kind to each other. I think we’ll find a way to make this work.

Ms. Tharp writes, “In those long and sleepless nights when I’m unable to shake my fears sufficiently, I borrow a biblical epigraph from Dostoyevsky’s The Demons: I see my fears being cast into the bodies of wild boars and hogs, and I watch them rush to a cliff where they fall to their deaths. It’s a little more extreme than counting sheep, but it’s far more effective for me.”

Getting to the heart of it: Why do I love to do ridiculous, impossible things?

Why did I move to San Francisco to struggle with art, money, independence? Why do I look at a perfectly good cream colored wall in a rented apartment and decide to paint it red? Why did I decide to date and fall in love with a man who I knew from the out set would be moving across the country?

Just as naming the fears makes them manageable, in the very questions lie the answers.

I moved to San Francisco to grapple with art, money, independence – to establish myself.

So what if the wall is in a rented apartment? It NEEDS to be red – it told me so. It will be more satisfied and satisfactory, if it is red. And it can always become cream again. That’s why paint is awesome.

And yes, I decided to date and fall in love with a man who I knew from the out set would be moving across the country. I must really trust our relationship to take it moment by moment, day by day, into the unknown.

For me, being an artist means listening. So now, I listen carefully, and beneath the trembling and dashing to and fro of my animal mind, my heart is calm. It says, steady, steady on… And I remember that my life story will look like no one else’s. I can look to friends, family, and artists who are making it, but in the end, it is MY story to unfold as it will.

And on that note: My Etsy shop is up and featuring my first generation of fabric cuff bracelets. Check it out!