Criticism

To Make An Omelet You Have To Break A Few Eggs
acrylics and pearlescent pigments on board 8x11in, 08, Jude Spacks

Hey Jude,

While painting, I was hearing some rather unhelpful comments like,
That is stupid--do you even know what you are doing?
What about Intention--you have no clue.
Quit being so incoherent! Where are you going with this?
You think you can show that!?
(Familiar to anyone?)
I realized that I have had a name for this voice for some time, and that in fact,
I have a personification in the flesh of this voice. It is....
The Suspicious Chicken.
and here she is:

I have had this thing in my studio for at least four years--
never realized that she was the source of critical commentary,
before today!

Maybe she's been squawking more lately because
I've been risking some new directions in my work. I'm
moving from an interest in powerline imagery to a much
more abstract response to the constructed nature of the
urban environment. Here's a couple examples:

Study for Queen and Walnut by Bonnie Miller
30 x 36 in acrylic on canvas 2007


Wires by Bonnie Miller
16 x 16 inches, acrylic and mixed media on canvas 2008

Anyway, I wish everyone good luck with any Suspicious Chickens
you find.

Bonnie Miller
www.bonniemillerarts.com


Dear Bonnie,

Wow, that's quite a chicken! Maybe she actually broadcasts directly
to psyches in studios all around the world.

There might be a clue here as to the source of eggshells for
walking on when giving feedback....

Thanks for sharing your discovery and your wonderful pictures.
And thanks for the inspirational courage to follow new directions
despite squawking.

Cheers,
Jude

Fear of Prices

bronze relief by Patrick Gracewood

Hey, Jude,

Sometimes I'm scared of my own prices.

It's easier for me to get that my big scale sculptures are worth a lot
because the expenses are so obvious (I have the steel frames fabricated,
the casting of the panels is done in a factory, and I need a crew to move
and install them).

I finally started believing in my prices recently when I realized
that I also need a forklift and a truck with a lift gate to install these
reliefs. Better late than never.....

I'm having the pleasure of rereading Jeanette Winterson's Art Objects: Essays on Ecstasy and Effrontery. Her first essay is a powerful one about encountering real art. Have you read her? I think you'd like this book alot. Let me know.

Best to you,

Patrick Gracewood

www.GracewoodStudio.com

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Dear Patrick,

I love your way of putting it: 'I started believing in my prices...better late than never'.

Sounds like you're still not so convinced about your prices for smaller works, though.

In my opinion, it's your unique spirit and expression that really brings the value to any work, regardless of size, or outlay for materials. Bigger isn't always intrinsically worth more.

The costs for the roof over your head and everything else that helps you show up to channel inspired work, all that remains constant regardless of the size of the piece you're working on. When you think of the legitimacy of your prices based on expenses, do you see paying yourself as being just as crucial as the need to pay an installation crew?

Of course, it may be practical to keep prices lower for smaller works. Clients might find big prices for big pieces more understandable and less intimidating, just as you do. You might want to develop a more distinct marketing strategy for the different scales you work in, so as not to invite comparisons.

I've tried some unorthodox approaches to coming to believe in my prices, which might be too odd to work for anyone else. For instance, I just wrote a post on why I've put all my fees in multiples of nine, if you're interested....

I'm sure you'll continue to deepen your belief in the integrity of your prices as you go along. That belief makes for a much more open, connected and abundant experience for everyone in any transaction. So charge a price that is really fair to you for the small gems, too.

Thanks for writing and sending pictures. And thanks for the book recommendation--I did enjoy the Jeannette Winterson. In fact, it's overdue at the library....

Cheers,
Jude

Gig-Giz

Hey, Jude,

I'm doing quite well in the "creative economy" so I'm not complaining--I know many people would be thrilled to do what I do and be paid for it.

Still, I feel dissatisfied, because I never seem to have time or energy left over for my own work. I have to admit that what looks like such creative employment doesn't actually feel that creative to me.

Maybe someday I'll find a way to explore my more experimental ideas. For now, I don't want to throw away a good thing in favor of an impractical urge. But it eats at me to be always putting off my real inspiration.

If Not Now, When?

Dear Not Now,

Your non-complaint might be a mild case of a grass-is-greener gizmo, a relative of the infamous procrasto-gizmo, and an old friend of mine, too.

grass-is-greener gizmo (gig-giz): Derived from expression "The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence." A network of beliefs that puts your good (happiness, fufillment, creativity, etc) on the other side of some metaphorical fence you can't get over, such as into a future that never comes.

Despite its built-in frustration, this mental habit can bring on a touching, even a heroic sense of longing. It belts out To Dream the Impossible Dream with full orchestra accompanyment. A gig-giz is a tragic drama in which nothing can ever happen.

The gig-giz loves stories that start with "If only..." Yours says, "If only I could explore my experimental ideas, then I'd really feel creative". This is identical (in form, not content) to what you imagine those people are thinking who would gladly trade places with you. Their gig goes: "If only I could do something creative like that and be paid for it..."

Sometimes a gig-giz runs on out-and-out envy (if only I had that one's talent or that one's trust fund). Envy is one of the seven deadlies--and it is deadly: it kills gratitude and presence.

Have you ever believed the content of an "if only..." and discovered when you got it that it didn't actually bring what you were sure it would? But the gig-giz pattern is unfazed when its prediction is proven wrong. It just comes up with new content.

The grass really might be greener on that other side; the gig-giz could be right this time. But you won't know until you get there (if then). And in the meantime, you're hosting a parasite on your happiness. Of course it eats at you to be always putting off your real inspiration. That's what a gig-giz does: it puts off your real life. Inspiration, peace and freedom always happen now, in the present, in the current circumstances, on this side of the fence.

I hear that your present circumstances include this dissatisfaction. What if you let dissatisfaction be here, since it already is here? It won't help to think, "If only I didn't have this if only story going on, then I'd be present and happy...." What if you even welcomed this gig-giz as part of the mix, just for now, without believing it or trying to solve it?

Supposing you took just one step towards exploring those inspiring experimental ideas. One modest, little, attainable step: the first one. What could you start, right here in real life, in an hour? How about in 10 minutes? You might remember what you love about those ideas, and the urge you had to get to know them. Or maybe not--and that could be helpful to find out. You might get a completely new idea of what to do next, and simply follow it for its own sake.You might or might not feel creative, whatever that means to you. But you would already be being creative; it's simple.

Does the mental pattern rush in to say, "Oh, no that won't work, it's not nearly enough, I'd have to take off full-time for months to really get into it." Just notice. Hear the swell of the orchestra signaling what a Really Big Impossible Deal this is. Turning down the volume on the Big Deal, see if you agree with the content. If so, what small, realistic step might you take to get full-time-for-months off? (Go on line and look up grants? Open a new savings account and tithe 10% of your income towards a sabbatical?)

If you didn't believe the smoke and mirrors of gizmo-world, where your good appears out of reach, you might see that the grass right here is vividly green. Maybe there are fresh possibilities in your current employment that you hadn't noticed while you were gazing over your fence. And you might be more likely to take actual, inspired steps on your "own work" if you weren't convinced that you have to wait for a mythic future when your time and energy will be freed up. Without gizmos eating at you, you could be very suprised how much energy becomes available.

The Source that creativity flows from is unconditional--it doesn't require more time or energy or money or anything. When your mind gives up calculating and dictating the terms of your fufillment, there might be a break in the clouds where happiness bursts through, not later, but now. You can't predict it or own it. It's untamed and unknown, this grace. There are no fences here, where you can't help but create because it's your nature.

Thanks for writing.

Cheers,

Jude

PS You're in good company. Shakespeare had similar trouble.
His solution? Remember Love.

Sonnet 29

When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon my self and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least,
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate,
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings,
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

William Shakespeare

Lacking

Hey, Jude,

I read in your last newsletter that you have room for 2 new coaching clients. I immediately thought, "I would love to coach with someone involved in direct inquiry!"

And then my thought of lack came banging in right behind that. "I can't have that if I don't have the resources.....this is a business for her."

So how do you move forward when it appears you need financial resources to do so? Have you worked with someone in this seeming paradox before?

I end up just coming to the conclusion that I am not supposed to have access to these kinds of things at this time. However, it feels like this is the time they would be extremely helpful.

Do you have any thoughts or suggestions?

Gratefully,

Lacking $

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Dear L. $,

A longtime client who considers her work with me "the best investment I've made in my entire life" mentioned, "When I tell friends they should try this coaching, they always say right off that they can't afford it; I say if I can come up with the money, which has been a miracle in itself, they could too, but they aren't open to it yet."

Of course, they (and you) may be right, objectively, that they simply don't have the resources to hire a coach now. Or they may just not want to rearrange priorities--perhaps a wise choice, certainly a valid one. But I wonder if the thought of lack that you saw banging in so quickly might also be a defensive slamming of the mental brakes, a reflex to ward off change.

With or without a coach, questioning who you really are beyond the habit of identification with thought can bring radical transformation; self-inquiry erodes the illusory dictatorship of the fear based ego-self. Focusing instead on what's lacking can give us a sense of (negative) control, a familiar reference, a shore of known identity to cling to. Sometimes "not enough" works as a secretly comforting excuse, a limit, a holding back from the boundless fullness of life beyond all conditions and circumstances.

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Yes, I have worked with many people (starting with myself) suffering from binds made of thoughts of lack...which dissolved before their eyes when they saw their "problem" differently.

Once I felt strongly inspired to work with a coach who charged more per hour than I was scraping together for rent. I asked if she'd consider a trade. She gave me some wonderful coaching for free--by modeling an open-hearted 'no' based on her clarity about what she needed to charge; her honest limit didn't close down our beginning connection, but actually deepened it.
The grace of that experience came with immediately realizing that I was being supported rather than refused. In reality, I got exactly what I wanted (brilliant coaching from her), but only in the moment, not according to my plan for the future.

Before doing The Work of Byron Katie, I probably would have seen that perspective as pasting on a happy-face to deny my disappointment. And I might have spun myself some righteous resentment about her fees for good measure. Instead, over time, without my even noticing, steady self-inquiry had brought me into unforced gratitude; it took me out of denial about the abundance that was really available in reality.

(If you'd like help with investigating your beliefs using The Work of Byron Katie, there are amazing, experienced facilitators available at The Institute For The Work Hotline, for free.)

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Later, I actually did wind up trading with that coach, for some very helpful sessions. It came about in an unexpected way better than either of us could ever have dreamed up, with silent chortles from a friendly trickster universe in the background.

The original no and the bonus yes of that situation were equally supportive, generous gifts. Gifts are more fun when they are surprises. Sometimes they come wrapped in a convincing disguise, so at first they don't look like a gift at all.

Or sometimes there may be a deeper treasure hidden inside what looks like the obvious gift.

I received a hidden gift like that after a period of low funds and tightening financial worry which brought up more and more of my scarcity thoughts to question. I kept discovering that I really had all I needed, and more--but again, only in the present--until the next thought of lack would come.

Then I found some money I had completely forgotten about. The pressure was off, life looked bright and full of possibility. It appeared that a cash infusion had neatly solved my worry problem. But this seemed to contradict everything I'd been learning through inquiry--that it was not the actual lack of resources which caused my stress, but only my thoughts about that perceived lack and what it meant.

Next, the gift of a liberating insight arrived, right on time. I felt better because I had stopped looking for a solution outside myself, not because I had gotten what I believed made further seeking unnecessary. The relief was in the stopping, not the getting. It really was the same relief I'd felt every time I had inquired into a belief of not-enough and found it untrue. I could enjoy the money that showed up without wondering if my freedom from fear depended on it.

(Have you encountered Gangaji, author of The Diamond In Your Pocket? She speaks eloquently about this kind of stopping, and the realization it allows of the unconditional love, peace and abundance available within.)

Double Portrait of Gangaji '08
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You already have the gift of being able to witness your thought of lack zooming in without wholly believing it. You wrote, "it appears" that you'd need more resources to get the help you'd like, and recognize this as a "seeming" paradox, so clearly you already question the reality of these concepts.

To go further, you might ask yourself, how is it actually necessary to moving forward that your resources be exactly as they are? Think of tangible, genuine reasons and evidence for the truth of this possibility.

You could also question, "I need to move forward"--is that really true? Would you rather have progress, or fully arrive here and now to discover there's nothing to improve?

Who would you be without that familiar song I Don't Have The Resources playing in your head? Who would you be if you couldn't believe it?

The point of this kind of exploration is not to start seeing a half-empty glass as half-full, though that might be a side effect. It's about meeting the place inside where the cup truly runneth over no matter what, and relying on it. From that awareness, the sigh of grudging resignation ("Oh, well, it just must not be meant to be") gives way to delighted curiosity about where the life-dancer will waltz you around to next.

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Acceptance of things as they are can look like passivity. If we realize that all is well in the present, where's the motivation to make changes? How do we deal with the fact that we still have wants that aren't being met yet, if we see that attachment to fulfilling them distracts from noticing the grace of the Now?

Byron Katie observes, "Love moves." Unobstructed by stressful beliefs, our true nature of love takes clear, efficient, effective action; (she adds, "Don't take my word for it, test it for yourself.") Acceptance is the ground beneath our feet, the place love can move from.

If you really want something, accept that you want it, to start with. With your willing, honest, most open mind, deeply question anything that seems to stand in the way. Question for the sake of peace in the present, expecting nothing. You may find yourself moving rapidly and decisively along the zig-zag path towards your truest desire, or something even better, as many who do The Work have reported.

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Lack thoughts seem to have a life of their own, disregarding actual bank balances. People with access to enormous wealth can experience the very same fears and frustrations of perceived lack as people with much less; people in great poverty can experience the peace of enough. Lack is really only a thought, a thought that can change, a thought that passes without your investment of belief in it. This goes for resources of energy, health, attention, time, or talent, also, not just money. Inquire and test it for yourself.

The challenges and limitations we inevitably meet can be welcomed as doorways to a deeper dimension. Or not! I find I don't always fall in love at first sight with things apparently not going my way, and full acceptance of that aspect of humanity is a fine place to rest, to stop or to start.

Anyway, that's enough from me on your wonderful topic--and enough is enough!

Thanks so much for your honesty,

Jude

P.S. Here's a video of Katie doing The Work with a crowd on the thought "I need more money."

Going Professional

Earning a Living Creatively

Hey, Jude,

I feel I'm ready to start earning a living from my artwork. I have saved enough to carry me for a year if I'm careful, but I don't want to waste time on false starts. Any suggestions?

Going Professional

Dear Pro,

I earned a living exclusively from selling my artwork for some years. My approach was a mixed metaphor: reinvent the wheel using the seat of the pants to put out fires with, while careening along the edge of the cliff, anxiously affirming the abundant universe all the way.

I thought if I gave my all into creating inspired artwork, recognition and money would somehow naturally follow. And a trickle did. Luckily I had a lot of fabric scraps available to patch the seats of my pants with, and I'm still here, so I never dove off the cliff altogether....but I believe there are more effective and less stressful ways to go.

If I were starting over, first of all, I would recognize and accept that although I am my laborer, main supplier and artistic director, I am also, perhaps more importantly, the entire sales force and the CEO of marketing: an all-round entrepreneur. I would not only wear the hat of the artiste. I could pick business hats that suit me, but I would not be reluctant to put them on or to learn how to make them fit.

I would take the marketplace less personally. I would give more attention to creating sustainable business structures, practices and relationships. I would look forward to meeting my beliefs, hopes and fears about what being a professional artist means to me. I'd keep using The Work or other methods to inquire into those thoughts, knowing that deeper levels of identity, freedom and connection could be found beneath them, which would only enrich my artwork as well. I'd (still) trust the abundant universe to show me the way.

And I would still make it up as I went along. When you start a creative project in a new medium, it's good to give yourself some room to make mistakes and learn from them, to explore how the materials respond, to get a feel for what you can and want to express through them. Embarking on the many faceted creative project of earning a living from your artwork deserves the same kind of space for feeling your way. It's wonderful that you have given yourself some financial leeway to support that space. Allowing yourself to willingly spend some time on "false starts"--on exploring without perfectionistic expectations of results--might be another realistic kindness to yourself.


My suggestion would be to get support with business and marketing skills, if you're not confident and experienced in those areas, and even if you are. Molly Gordon of Shaboom, Inc and Mark Silver of Heart of Business are my two favorite small business gurus. They are both amazingly generous with the valuable information and guidance they give away on their sites and through well written newsletters. Both offer excellent coaching products for people who want to create a business from an authentic, spiritually centered place.

Here's hoping you thrive in every way,

Jude

Jude Wearing Bizness Hat

Encouragement

Hey, Jude,
Do you have any encouragement to spare for someone who's been serious about their artwork for a long time, but has never received much recognition for it? I keep trying to improve and trying to put it out there, but I wonder why I do--what part of "no" don't I understand? I still (sometimes) love what I do, but I feel frustrated that I have so little to show for all these years of effort.

I know plenty of 'greats' weren't successful in their own times. I don't have to be great, but I don't want to just add to the junk heap of forgettable, mediocre art, either. How can I tell if it's any good, without any real response from the world? Then again, some of the stuff out there that does make it is bad enough to give me hives. So should I just quit?

Disappointing Career


Dear Disappointing,

I love the question, "What part of 'no' don't I understand?" I've also had considerable experience of not achieving my artistic success fantasies. The part of 'no' I often didn't understand was the kind part, the part offered by a friendly universe truly for my own good. If those fizzled dreams had manifested, I might have just grown a more entrenched ego, pretending to be important--a lone little candle guttering in the hot air of other people's opinions. For me, not getting my way has been a huge blessing. It pointed me towards realizing more and more deeply what's already open to me and to everyone: the possibility of effortlessly blazing with the sun of creative life that lights us all up.

One sunbeam says to another, "Whoa! You are gorgeous! One of the greats! You are a real star!" The other says, "Takes one to know one." They're looking in a mirror of where they both come from, seeing the truth of who they are. A sunbeam that says, "Hey, why doesn't anyone notice how shiny, shinier, shiniest I am?" simply hasn't recognized themself yet.


I invite you to make a list of all the specific benefits, from the petty to the cosmic, that have come to you because of what didn't happen that you wished for. Open your mind and take your time--I'm guessing the list will be long. Next, make a list of all the successes and recognition you have received, including the smallest. Take each one in freshly, like unwrapping a present from someone who knows and loves you. Wait until you genuinely contact gratitude for all the gifts you discounted at the time because they didn't match your picture of what would be enough.

Say you did "make it". Your book tops the best-seller list, bringing in heaps of money; your idol begs to act in your film; you're invited to give a solo show at the Met and you even have the perfect shoes for the opening. What would reaching this pinnacle actually give you? Happiness? Confidence? Inspiration? The satisfaction of knowing you connected with others? Relief from the suffering of feeling unworthy? Assurance that you are loved? Those gifts and more can come to you directly and immediately when you stop looking out to a future that is not yet here (and never arrives) to supply them.

As long as we're pursuing reassurance from other people or external situations, we're guaranteed to feel frustrated. Even if the strategy works temporarily, it can never finally assuage the pain and confusion that come from believing that we're not already enough as we are. We'll always have to seek fresh proof of our value to distract from the loneliness of separating from the real, unshakable, unconditional Source of our creativity.

So, give yourself more recognition. Truly, you are blindingly brilliant. There's never been or will be another just like you. You have been gifted with the courage to create for the (sometimes) love of it; this is pure grace, unearned. And you have, like almost all of us, an ego, a fake self constructed of fear-based beliefs which obscures your God-given genius from your awareness. Do you recognize yourself?

The ego's addiction to approval seeking is a nasty, discouraging trick. See if you can quit driving yourself with this carrot-and-stick game that can never really pay off. Then, knowing whether to quit doing your artwork will follow naturally--you will or you won't, without tacking on a traumatic story of failure and lost identity to the reality of the generous, free flow of choice that's really available in the present.

(Actually, you may find approval seeking quitting you, if you deepen into self inquiry about the false beliefs that held it in place. I love The Work as a simple, powerful way to question any stressful thought. It's not called The Work for nothing--you have to follow the directions and answer the questions. But if you stay with it, you may discover yourself opening creatively in ways you never could access before).

Of course positive feedback from others is tasty, and often useful. The lengthy acknowledgments in most books give a clue of how much help every artist needs: we don't do this alone. Come out of isolation and get the reality checks you need (ask people directly for their response, take a class, get a coach, join or form a group). Enjoy all the goodies coming to you.

And there is always much more nourishing fare available to fortify you in your creative work than any external affirmation could give you. When you really know that the Source is creating through you, lighting you from within, then validation from others is nice, but there's no need for it. Imagine the freedom this brings!

When you forget this, as we almost all do, and find you are disappointing yourself again, that feeling lets you know you are confused, and it is time to inquire more deeply.

Encouragement is mostly courage. It's yours already--the courage to notice that your familiar ways haven't worked. That courage can sustain you to look further into yourself, where you'll find your own solutions, in the only place they can be found.

And thank you for your courage to share with us.

Jude

Write vs. Clean

Harrington House, fabrics, 20x33in?

Hey, Jude,

I'm a little embarrassed that this trivial problem has bothered me for years: I seem to always have a tug-of-war going on between time for my writing and time for housework and errands. If I go ahead and clean and organize first it seems like then most of my precious "free-time" is gone, or at least my best energy is spent. I'm not an obsessive neatnik, but when I try to force myself to write first despite clutter, I feel blocked and distracted. It also hasn't helped to go write somewhere else (I've tried the library and a cafe) mostly because then I don't feel private enough; I'm a real homebody at heart. Any new ideas? --Clean versus Write

Dear Versus.

Your tug-of-war may be a form of procrastination, which is no trivial thing. But I wonder: could this long-time bother really be a tug-of-peace--a genuine need tugging at your sleeve, a friend in disguise? Could cleaning become an ally instead of an adversary of writing?

Entering into creative work requires a surrender of ordinary preoccupations, a dive into uncharted territory. Fear of the blank page may boil down to fear of the Unknown, a fundamentally spiritual hunger. The rituals of many traditions include aspects of clearing and purification. Perhaps cleaning--ordering external mess to invite the internal to clear--is your way of transitioning into open connection with the Source of creativity. And the creative process itself oscillates between chaos and order, formlessness and form. Cleaning could be a good warm-up for that.

Your pre-writing cleanup urge might just be natural to you, like a dog circling before lying down. If it simply offers to make a safe, homey haven for you to write in, then all that's needed is for you to receive your own gift.

I like to use my trusty timer to assist with this kind of thing. Try devoting 10 minutes to cleaning the area you want to write in. Work as quickly and joyfully as you can, being mindful of preparing sacred space. Clean like you had short notice that a cherished guest was arriving, your own true Beloved. If that's too woo-woo for you, just clean to get your blood moving, but not with the goal of getting it Done.

Then, set the timer again for a period of writing. When it rings, if you want to continue, great, you're on your way. If not, alternate timed periods of writing and of housework until you feel satisfied that you've met your self-commitment to writing for that day--and it might help to decide up front what you will let be enough: a certain number of pages, or a cumulative amount of time.

As for errands, you could save them for when/if your writing stalls and you don't know what's next. Before you go out, formulate your stuck place into a question, write it on a strip of paper, and carry it with you. Stay alert for clues from the world, things your attention happens to snag on. Let accomplishing the errands be secondary to looking and listening for what sparks you on the topic of your writing question.

When you get home, before doing anything beyond the most essential follow-through (ice cream in the freezer, fine, but nothing that can wait), write a ramble on what you noticed with all your senses during the outing, waiting for a symbolic or associative answer to your question to emerge. Be as quick and disciplined about this as you would be about a dream journal, capturing the fading impressions first thing. (Want to read a short poem about this practice called The World Oracle ?)

Too many old ideas, a not lack of new ones, might really be the source of the trouble. Do you harbor half-remembered beliefs like, "You should clean your room before you play," that wield the superego stick, crack the inner whip? Then does the Rebel rev up,"You can't make me!" giving you a double bind you can't escape?

As I continue in self inquiry, I realize that clearing my internal mental space is all I need. That's the real room of my own; dynamic peace and all the creative ideas I could wish for flow in and out of there freely, when those old mental wars begin to resolve. Then the externals appear orderly enough for my comfort, and beautiful, even if they look like a tornado came by.

Art When Upset?

On my walk to the store I'd been wondering where to find questions for this column. Quick response: in the check-out line, an artist asked me, "Do you think it's a good idea to do art when you're emotionally distraught?" There was only time to answer, "Sure--you'd know best." Here's more.

Dear Distraught,

"Take a sad song and make it better....And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain."
--Hey Jude, Lennon/McCartney

Some courageously truthful art and helpful art-therapy can come from art-ing under emotional duress. So can creative dead-ends that mainly serve self-dramatizing. But there are surely worse things to do with the energy of a bad mood.

An emotional upset usually wants to be heard. A friend's compassionate listening helps by reminding you to hear yourself as kindly: ultimately, you're the one who really serves as an effective witness for yourself.

Art actively engages and strengthens that witnessing presence. And art made in Presence can offer the viewer a deepened connection with the power and nuance of their own emotional currents.

Byron Katie sometimes invites someone to go, in memory, to the place where they were the most distressed, at maximum freak-out point, in a total tantrum against some unaccepted facet of reality.

Then she'll ask if they can find the part of themselves unaffected by the storm. A part that may have been quietly wondering what's for dinner in the midst of the sobs, an aspect who has time to notice the pattern of the parquet they're puddled out on.

That's the same essential aspect of you that picks purple next, sails into a particular arc of line, clocks the galloping rhythm of your written rant. It has a detached engagement, a spacious acceptance that includes any passing state of mind and feeling. It can use whatever's going on, or not. But it can't be used, controlled, dominated or captured. It is free, and real.

You serve that Essence when you deeply give yourself to art-making, whatever your emotional condition. A lightening-up comes through practicing the craft of observation and the simple pleasure of mark making--just noticing and taking dictation from present reality.

There's a humility in that active meditation of art that refreshes, bringing honesty and humor and relief, pulling you out of your narrowed focus on the problem that upset you. (And anything you give this kind of attention to will turn out to be a kind of self-portrait--you don't have to literally stare at your own sad mug).

Personally, I've been interested in studying in the mirror the kinds of expressions we're warned as kids might make your face freeze that way (luckily my visage is still more or less mobile). I see some wisdom in that caution, though; there is a risk of getting more frozen or stuck by making art from suffering states.

The story of the problem that created your hard feeling often demands validation. It makes its case, again and again. Deep brain grooves may identify with the story, tiers of unquestioned beliefs back it up, casting you as a victim of your circumstances, or of your emotion itself. A victim identity freezes itself: it stops movement. And sometimes it tries to hijack art. This winds up being boring.

It may be seductive to experience and express the dramatic intensity of your emotion. A self-image of specialness and passion that goes with being "artistic" gets reinforced that way. You can become entranced by that self-image and pour your resources of energy, time and talent into bolstering it, perpetuating and even glorifying suffering with the (usually unconscious) motive of trying to get something out of it. You may believe that this is the price of your artistic gifts, that you must suffer in order to create. Can you find a part of you that actually revels in the drama, the importance, the lonely heroism of this role?

It may be the spiritual work of a lifetime to inquire into this kind of identification and to risk letting it go. In my experience, working with The Enneagram can help tremendously to map the territory of the false or ego self, revealing it to inquiry. Discovering the limiting habits of attention described by your type in the Enneagram can wake you out of the trance, for instance, of identifying with suffering--which is home turf especially for Enneagram type four--the Tragic/Romantic Artist. (Much more on this another time).

If you recognize that you do have some secret tricks of indulging and milking pain in attempts to juice up your artwork and the self-image you derive from it, you'll gain more freedom of choice to refrain, if you wish to. What might then express through you that is even deeper than any emotional state?

Simple Seeing?

Hey, Jude,

I'm a musician and teacher. When adult students first come to me, they often think they should already know how to sing or play something complicated. I bring them back to basics that they may have missed learning as children.

Sometimes I think I want to take pictures, but childhood voices saying I'm not talented enough seem to keep me from even getting a camera (my sister and brother were the visual artists in the family). Can you tell me what the very simplest ways of exploring the visual world would be? The equivalent of singing Mary Had a Little Lamb?

Heard and Not Seen

Dear Heard,

"You're waiting for someone to perform with/ And don't you know that it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do..."--Hey Jude, Lennon/McCartney

Sometimes it's not so much what we missed learning as children that holds back creativity in adulthood, but what we did learn. For instance, we almost all learned to view creative expression in terms of performance and achievement, and to compare, shame, push and limit ourselves accordingly.

The most powerful and efficient way I know to un-learn this kind of confusion is to question the specific stressful beliefs involved through a process of inquiry like The Work of Byron Katie. You have already clearly identified a belief that bothers you. Now you can bring thoughts like "My brother and sister were more visually talented than me" to The Work.

In my experience, you don't have to try to let go of these old beliefs, much less paste positive affirmations on top of them, adding another layer of "shoulding" to the stress. Untrue thoughts let go of you when you really realize for yourself that they are not valid. If you persist with The Work, you'll find your mind increasingly open, free and spontaneously creative. You'll know that it's just you, and you'll do, to perform or not perform with. You'll have more space to simply explore as you wish to.

Baby Rose, fabrics, 1999

Before babies learn to talk they're fascinated with contrast, shifting patterns of light, dark and color. Then the game of speech takes over: identifying and naming become vital learning. From their first crayon scribbles, kids are asked, "What is it?" Once we learn the naming game, we can't quit. "What is it?" remains one of the mind's primary reflexes of attention. The identifying reflex designates objects, separating them out from the wholeness of the visual field, and overrides the direct, unified experience of vision. (Read more about this in the article Looking).

Learning representational drawing can put you back in touch with the primary joy of seeing. The more deeply you look as you take visual notes, the more you see. "Things" begin to exist for you also as fascinating tonal patterns again, unified with their context.

I'm currently working on a self-study drawing course that takes you through a process of re-connecting with that visual innocence. Here's one of the first exercises in noticing:

• Pay attention to the shapes and tones of spaces around, within and beside "things." Notice the unnameable areas next to what's been automatically identified--the particular shape of the sky cut out by branches or wires, the different curved spaces between your toes, the complex polygons of shadow next to or inside a crumpled piece of paper. Right now, can you allow the light shapes above, below and between these letters to be as important as the type? Can you really see both at once? Give yourself a week of attention to shapes without names and see if your seeing is a little richer, more spacious and full of wonder.
  

Since you're drawn to photography, you might also want to play with framing: looking at only a limited area can help you see it freshly. The simplest game might be to roll up a piece of paper for a spy glass and look through it. Or, cut a small rectangle out of the middle of a piece of light cardboard or cardstock and use that as a view-finder. Then you might try some of these:

• Hold the view-finder closer and further away from your eyes, including more and less of the field in your view.
  
• Experiment with looking through with one eye, and see how you like the shapes and tones on view when they are flattened by doing that.
• Try holding the rectangle at angle, and see how that affects the way the scene feels to you. Look at the same area with the longer dimension of the rectangle held horizontally and then vertically. Which pleases you more?
  
• Use your frame to look for areas of contrasting light and dark that you enjoy for their own sake. Shift slightly and notice if you find your view more or less satisfying with the different areas that are now included and excluded, or with different shapes taking up more or less of the rectangle.
• Shut your eyes and turn around a few times. Hold up the view-finder; open your eyes and look through with the intention to not immediately identify what you see.
• Center something you've identified in the exact middle of the view. Then move it off to the side. Does it feel different that way?
  

street art in Miami, at www.woostercollective.com

If you try this and enjoy it, you'll probably want to go ahead and get your camera and some photo-editing software, which will give you a much greater range to explore. Keep doing The Work on any stressful thoughts that come up, and follow your own good directions. Otherwise, we'll never get to see your photos, the ones only you know to take.