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Bottling Sunshine – Mercredi Express #17

Bottling Sunshine
The other day was particularly sunny at my day job and I showed up to bottle the sunshine. I work at an alternative high school, a “last chance high.” That day, we put on nice clothes, gathered in a field six feet away from each other, and while loved ones cheered from the bleachers, we graduated a couple dozen high school seniors. It was kind of a big deal.

We haven’t been able to hold a physical graduation ceremony since 2019 and just two days prior, the State eased restrictions which allowed us to meet mask-free. I hadn’t seen some of my co-workers face-to-face for over a year. It was difficult not to give some of them a hug. Two of the remote teachers — we call them On-line Content Coaches — even  flew in from out of state to attend.

My high school — WAVE or the Washtenaw Alliance for Virtual Education — is a hybrid program — online and in person — and was designed that way from our inception eleven years ago. We serve students who have not found success in traditional “factory-style” high schools. By “factory-style” I mean schools that operate as if learning was a vast assembly line with heavy gears that needs to be cranked up at 9:00 AM and must chug along until the end of the day. Learning, and to be honest, most work of all kinds in the post industrial economy isn’t like that any more.  Our curriculum is self-paced and modular and since we provide a computer and connectivity to everyone who needs it, it’s available whenever the learner is ready… AND given human procrastination — teenagers are humans too (grin) — every student has an Advisor who knows the student’s particular challenges and is able to coax appropriate amounts of work. It’s most exciting, of course, when that coaxing becomes barely necessary. We refer to a specific moment when “the light goes on” and a student realizes that they aren’t earning credit just by showing up and that, in fact, they themselves are in control of the speed of their success.

Each of our students has followed an individual path of difficulties and challenges. Some are single parents. Some hold down full time jobs. Some are homeless. Some are transitioning gender. Some have been expelled for weapons or drugs. Some have crippling anxiety or other dire diagnoses. As each graduate walked up to receive their diploma, a personalized message was read, written by their Advisor, noting some of the unique challenges each had overcome and celebrating a particular triumph they’d attained. Soapbox rant  — EVERY student walks a different path to graduation. Only alumni associations are served by grouping these personal victories into a “graduation class.”

The student speeches, as usual, were the brightest point. We have a wide variety of students and for the most part, we let anyone who wants give a (pre-approved) speech. One speaker spoke about having literally moved halfway across the globe, still mastering English, when he started with us. There were several beautiful speeches, though the one that made me tear up was from someone I’ll call “Tiger.” Tiger spoke of their first day at WAVE when their social anxiety was still off the leash. They couldn’t bring themselves into the lab so one of our Advisors met them in the parking lot to “do school.” I remember Tiger’s first days in the Lab. They came late in the day on Fridays, our least populated time. And they made it in EVERY week. Progress was slow, sometimes almost imperceptible, and yet, by the final months, Tiger was in every day and would seek me out to chat enthusiastically about video games and to give music recommendations. I was so proud of Tiger’s accomplishments, not the least of which was delivering this graduation speech, I think I might have been incandescent.

I have attended alternative high school graduation ceremonies for over 20 years. I am NOT a teacher — I fix computers. There is absolutely NO chance that anyone is going to mention me by name in a speech. NO ONE will likely ask to snap a photo with me. I sometimes grouch about my job and call it my “breadwork gig” as if the only thing I take home from it is enough money to buy bread. As the saying goes, we do not live by bread alone. One might wonder why “support staff” would appear at graduation at all.

I attend to soak up the glory of this day, to bottle it and store it away. As one of the “non-academic” staff, I NEVER have to goad a student about their schoolwork. We can just chat… about video games or music, about race cars or horror movies, about how life is going for them. During those inevitable cold, dry days along their journey, I can share with them a sip of that bottled sunshine. 

“I know you can’t see it right now, but I can. There is a special day of triumph and celebration, a moment of acknowledgement and support that is 100% possible for you to reach. And when you make it, you are going to feel SO PROUD of yourself that you are going to glow from the inside out.”


WHAT’S YOUR BOTTLED SUNSHINE? Are you carrying a victory for someone else, keeping a vision for it alive for those dark days? Has someone done this for you, spoken a word of encouragement about a wonderful possible future that you just can’t imagine. Visions change lives.
Blue Cicada Magnet
Careful readers will note that I MISSED sending out last week’s newsletter and my excuse is instructive. I had really really really wanted to be able to type “All of the free birthday paintings are in the mail so start checking your post boxes” which is still not a true statement. (I have hopes to finish mailing them by the end of the week) It’s a classic case of where the ideal of the Perfect got in the way of a Good Enough.Just because Birth-Month is over does not mean the gifts have ended. To celebrate the Brood X music festival, I am giving away the attractive cicada magnet shown above. Want one? Direct message me with a mailing address and I’ll send it to you!
(Obligatory Link to my On Line Store Here)
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CURIOUS about the previous issues of the Mercredi Express? Check them out here: Mercredi Express Newsletters
https://www.jamesfrederickleach.com/category/mercredi-express/
==========================================Consider forwarding this newsletter to anyone you think might dig it. And if you have received such a forwarded message, consider joining us with this subscription link:
https://lp.constantcontactpages.com/su/jX0Ddba
The Mercredi Express is my once-a-week reflection on what it’s like being creative during the past week, designed to help you spot resources and opportunities you may have overlooked. You in?
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My Plans for World Domination – Mercredi Express #16

Noble Pig
“Noble Pig” 3″ x 5″ oil on panel
I am enjoying the heck out of the new “Loki” series currently running on Disney+ — The writers are focusing on his character as a Lord of Misrule, a “mischievous scamp,” more than a generic blood-thirsty-would-be-tyrant-of-the-universe. At one point, the bureaucrat Mobius who has captured Loki, asks him what he wants, what he’d do if released, what a Big Picture Win looks like. Loki wants to rule all of Midgard (Earth) to which Mobius replies, Ok then you’d be happy? Loki’s vision undergoes a bit of scope creep as he imagines larger and larger conquests before he has self-realization. (Spoilers omitted) From his actions at least in the first two episodes, Loki really just likes to thumb his nose at authority and mess up the clear boundaries of any power structure.

And since it’s my birthday month, I’m reminded to review my own Big Picture Win, my own Plan for World Domination, so to speak. It’s hard to get what you’ve always wanted if you’re not entirely clear about exactly what you’ve always wanted. Come to find out, my Big Picture Win doesn’t really resemble World Domination very much at all. I’m told that, astrologically, I am a Gemini with a Gemini Rising, and I’m further told that it means I like to talk with people. (A trait I evidently share with Loki) My “Gemininity” is a fun metaphor that I more or less embrace, except on those dark depressive times when I want to hide under my pillows — I am an intermittent extrovert at best. Success in my art and maybe generally in my life resembles the opportunity for good conversations.

Granted, I have a pretty darned nice “job” that at a specific certain point I claimed as a “career.” I get a living wage, health care, even a modest pension (!), reasonable and rewarding working conditions. I used to beat myself up using that Steve Jobs commencement quotation about finding a career you love… until I woke up and read it backwards: I chose to LOVE the job I had and I turned it into a career. I work at an alternative high school and I’ve grown to care passionately about the loveable troubled misfit students we serve. The steady paycheck is a privilege and the meaningful work is just a blessing added on top.

And I have had a vocation, a calling, to tell stories since I was a child. My bread-work gig funds my vocation. Success at this vocation means getting to keep making meaningful work AND verbally processing that work with others.

I do not want to minimize the “infinite game” aspect of success. Are you familiar with the idea of “finite” and “infinite” games? Finite games have a specific end and frequently a particular winner. One usually plays a finite game in order to “win.” An infinite game has no pre-defined end, no final victory conditions. Like a game of catch with a loving parent, an infinite game gives satisfaction on and on. Like that game of catch, I want to keep making and interacting creatively with this Cosmos for as long as possible. What this looks like on a daily basis is some time spent in the Workshop, some time in the Studio, some time spent reflecting. The proportions change from day to day, and this pattern is my ideal infinite game.

And “because” I’m a Gemini (LOL) success also means better conversations. I want to know people I can call when I am having a specific problem, or who I can share the word with when I hear about a call for art or who I can bounce a particularly “creative” idea off without judgment and with the possibility of a productive game of catch breaking out. I want a Tribe, a chatty, noisy, sometimes brooding and introspective group of folks who “get” what I’m doing. They need not be makers, they could be “fans.” I do NOT need their money due to my breadwork gig… and I realize that in this culture we symbolize ALL value in terms of money, even when we think we’re not.

What does this look like?

— I had a piece in a small gallery show a couple years ago. My work had sold even before I arrived on opening night, which is a definite win… and the HIGHLIGHT of the night was getting to chat with the other artists. Sometimes small talk, sometimes about process, sometimes about the bigger horizons of engaging the tragic and glorious culture of Detroit and what’s “art” for anyway…

– I wrote a book of “marriage poems” with my partner that was published a few years back by a cool small press. A passion project. At a writer’s convention, on the basis of this book, we were invited to a room party for other authors published on this press. IT WAS A BLAST. There were literal rockstars in the room (who were also poets) and novelists and anthologists and the conversation was easy and nourishing and fun. (OK so it was also a little bit like getting asked to sit at the “cool kids’ table” in the high school lunchroom, I won’t lie LOL)

I do NOT want to have conversations ONLY about how to MAKE the art; I want to talk about what it means. I wan to make those kinds of big picture conversations easy. Once upon a time, I was a nerdy kid who would wait after rock shows to talk with the band… and all I could think to talk about were stupid things like what kind of strings they used. I think I really wanted to connect and ask “How did you believe in yourself enough to step onstage? If you could write a song about ANYTHING what would it be? Have you ever had a song that just got away from you or that went wrong and what did you do?..”

One of my FAVORITE movies is “Children of Men” and aside from the visual storytelling and bleakly inspirational theme, on the DVD the VERY FIRST bonus feature is a documentary where important thinkers discuss the TOPIC of the movie as if what the movie is ABOUT might actually be important. Sure there are behind-the-scenes featurettes too but I just loved the sense that the meaning of the work is more than the technique and tricks of making the work.

So that’s my Big Picture and I’m glad you’ve signed up to accompany me along the way. My creative work succeeds best when I can connect with the people that IT connects with.
WHAT’S YOUR BIG PICTURE WIN? Does it actually involve World Domination?Think about it. Write it down maybe. Making it clearer will make it more possible. It’s OK if the first few drafts come out as what you want to avoid. Just try to turn it around to what you want. Positive statements are best! Imagine pulling up to the drive-in window at the Qwikee Burger and saying “I don’t want fried chicken and I don’t want a brand new hat. And I don’t want a hole in my roof and I don’t want unexpected heartache…” It’ll be a LOT easier to get what you’ve always wanted if you’ve got a positive vision of it. Visions change lives.
Blue Mama Sticker
The special BIRTHDAY celebrations continue in this edition of the newsletter and that means GIFTS! I was delighted and encouraged by all the folks who replied and requested the free artworks I listed in last two week’s Mercredi Express editions. Most are claimed HOWEVER this week I’m giving out merch with my “Blue Mama” tiny goddess painting. She’s kind of my muse and I wrote about her in this previous newsletter. (https://www.jamesfrederickleach.com/2021/03/24/losing-my-head/) I have her likeness printed on magnets (I’ve got one on my fridge) and on stickers (I’ve got one on my phone case.) Want one? Send me a private email telling me if you’d prefer a magnet or a sticker AND your mailing address. I had wanted to run this give-away through my on-line store but I couldn’t figure out a way to “sell” things for free. (Obligatory Link Here)
And in the spirit of birthday giving, feel free to GIVE this newsletter away to someone you think might dig it. And if you have received such a forwarded message, consider joining us with this subscription link: https://lp.constantcontactpages.com/su/jX0Ddba It’s my once-a-week reflection on what it’s like being creative during the past week, designed to help you spot more resources and opportunities you may have overlooked. You in?
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discardable art – Mercredi Express #15

Discardable Art

SKIP TO THE END FOR THE BIRTHDAY GIFTS!!

Last year at this time, I was painting on toilet paper.
And it was much more difficult than I expected. Toilet paper becomes a wet mess when moistened, a gooey spit ball. I tried several different brands and the one that worked best for me was a quilted two ply. I applied gesso, VERY carefully to several sheets, several layers on both sides. Even prepared, the surface sucked up the paint and dulled down every brush stroke. It was quite a process. It would have been easier to make my own paper. 

Yet I did it all with a silly grin.

It would probably not have occurred to me to paint on such flimsy sheets if not for the Small Wonders Detroit 2020 show.
 I’ve written previously about this gem of an art show, tiny works from dozens of creators. (https://www.jamesfrederickleach.com/2021/03/10/look-again-listen-again-mercredi-express-3/) As many other art events closed down completely for 2020, Small Wonders Detroit pivoted during the year of the Miasma to a virtual on-line show, which was a brave effort. Then, as the full effect of COVID became apparent, the call for entries shifted to become very virus-centered. Work could be on face masks or toilet paper rolls or single sheets of toilet paper. In case you’ve forgotten, folks hoarded toilet paper in the opening weeks of the coronavirus shutdown. Turning such precious squares into art was delightful whimsy.

Participating in this show kept me going creatively. I had to look at painting and at materials in a different light. I had to turn something that was purely and perfectly discardable into something that was worthy of attention. The lockdown was a dark time for many people and it stirred up lots of fears. And this project kept me in the studio.
I wanted an image that would rise to the challenge of the revised requirements. I LOVE masks of all kinds so I was tempted to do something on a sanitary mask. I kept gravitating to the utter ABSURDITY of painting on toilet paper and I eventually decided to paint an image of the most ANTI-sanitary mask I could imagine; the Renaissance commedia dell’arte. They only protect wearers from identification, not infection. I suspected it would be quite a challenge so I prepped MANY more sheets than I finally used and I made twice as many paintings as I could submit so I could select the ones that worked the best. All three were accepted.

These silly discardable artworks are precious to me. They hang in my Studio right above my drafting table. They got me through dark times and though discardable, they are not for sale.
HOW DID YOU GET THROUGH THE COVID MIASMA? Did you adopt a weird ritual that soothed your anxiety? Did you take up a hobby? Did you binge watch some comfortably familiar sit-coms? WELL DONE! Whatever you did, it must have worked because you survived to read these words! And looking forward, regardless of whatever habits or skills you want to practice going forward, perhaps honor that silly little something that got you through this stressful time. You don’t need to continue it. And you don’t need to be proud of it… and still, well done. Maybe you want to keep a souvenir near your workspace to remind you of the compassion and care you showed yourself. You are worthy of love and respect, especially from your own self.
The special BIRTHDAY celebrations continue in this edition of the newsletter and that means GIFTS! I was delighted and encouraged by all the folks who replied and requested the free artworks I listed in last week’s Mercredi Express. So I am including eight more pieces this week. First come; first reserved. Related to the theme of this newsletter, these paintings are all based on a Japanese theatre mask. They are each 3″ x 4″ oil on gessoed panel. See one you’d like? Send me a private email telling me the number of the one you’d fancy AND your mailing address. I had wanted to run this give-away through my on-line store but I couldn’t figure out a way to “sell” things for free. (Obligatory Link Here)
And feel free to GIVE this newsletter away to someone you think might dig it. And if you have received such a forwarded message, consider joining us with this subscription link: https://lp.constantcontactpages.com/su/jX0DdbaIt’s my once-a-week reflection on what it’s like being creative during the past week, designed to help you spot more resources and opportunities you may have overlooked. You in?
Mask #1
Mask #2

Mask #3

Mask #4

Mask #5

Mask #6
Mask #7
Mask #8
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deals with devils – Vendredi Express #14

Shown above is “Lilith” which sold at the Damned show in 2019

SKIP TO THE END FOR THE BIRTHDAY GIFTS!!

As part of my birth-month celebrations, we’ve been re-watching some of my favorite movies and the other night, we watched Highway 61 (1991) Probably my favorite rock and roll movie, possibly my favorite Canadian movie and a solid road movie by any standard, Highway 61 was directed by Bruce McDonald, written by Don McKellar who also starts as Pokey Jones, the creatively stunted barber/trumpet player and stars Valerie Buhagiar as live-wire roadie Jackie Bangs. It’s low budget, smart and witty and packs enough insight and spark  to repay multiple viewings. Rounding out the cast are a delicious scattering of rock and roll reprobates playing bit parts, my favorite being Jello Biafra as an American border guard. I own the soundtrack CD and the novelised comic book as well as the movie on VHS and DVD… let’s say I’m a fan. It was released while I lived in Toronto in the 90’s so there’s also a bit of nostalgia in my affection.

What struck me during this viewing was the idea of deals with the devil. The film’s antagonist, the hilariously evil “Mr Skin,” trades people’s souls for usually very tangible goods. At one point in the movie Mr Skin tallies up his recent acquisitions and what they cost – bus tickets to Thunder Bay, a mickey of bourbon, the promise of success and fame… As a token of each deal, he snaps a Polaroid (which was a self-developing photograph film from the last century) The inside of his house in New Orleans is studded with these photographs. On their first meeting, Mr Skin asks Pokey Jones who is holding his trumpet “Do you play that thing or just pose with it?” and goes on to say he could help Pokey “play like Gabriel.” (Pokey refuses, BTW)  It’s a commonplace story, the musician who makes a deal with a “devil” to achieve artistic success.

What struck me — and which I admit has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with the actual content of the movie — was an inner meaning to the archetypal story which awakened a simple spiritual truth. To make a deal with the devil, an artist has to WANT something and in particular to want something that the artist feels is impossibly beyond reach. That essential separateness perhaps distinguishes ambition from temptation. The devil appears and offers to GIVE that unreachable desiderata to the artist on the condition that the artist surrender some part of their essential being. I love how it’s become “soul” in the stories, especially as popular understanding has eroded about what the heck a “soul” could possibly be. One answer? I’m reminded of another deal with a devil story in the Simpsons where Bart sells his soul, only to discover that the automatic doors on the Qwikee Mart no longer open for him! So THAT’S what a soul “does” (grin) Theology, by which I mean Aristotle aside, my interpretation works I think with almost any understanding of what the artist surrenders to seal the deal. The merest, smallest, most imperceptible part of the artist’s personality is all that is needed for the tragedy of this agreement to happen.

The artist willingly sells into servitude (or eternal torment) some portion of their current existence for the attainment of something that they believe is outside their existence. Sometimes this is outside of their possible existence (or what they imagine as possible) and sometimes it is just outside their current existence (short circuiting all those hours of practice to be good right now.) In tales of Faustian bargains, there is sometimes a scene of the artist at the pinnacle of their creative power who yet still feels unsatisfied with their work. They are already in torment. And by that point, the tragedy has already LONG in the past. Just like the fun scenes of degraded power and eventual paying-of-the-piper, they are all falling actions. 

You’ve already lost as soon as it even SOUNDS like a good deal.

The inner wisdom of soul-to-devil-trades is that we will NEVER be as good as we want to be. We will ALWAYS have to practice and make attempts that don’t succeed like we hoped and imagine even greater possible ways to use creativity to serve our audience. This yearning does not mean you are an imposter; it just means you are a working artist. You are ALREADY an artist fully, as much of an artist as you will EVER be. The pleasure you already receive creating is a full measure of the joy you will ever get, I mean, alloyed with the bittersweet tang of disappointing attempts and the bracing twang of higher hopes.

We don’t need a devil to promise us something we already possess.

The sad part of the tragedy is the willingness to trade away any part of our being. Our downfall is the idea that we could somehow become “more” whole by making ourselves fragmentary, by surrendering ANY part of ourselves and our experiences. From my experience, any time I ransom away some part of my life experiences, I also cut off access to some associated resources.

I am considering that sense of wholeness, of artistic integrity alot this birthday. For a large part of my life and artistic work, I have more or less gladly muted down or edited out various aspects of my experiences. For instance, folks know I am spiritually driven… and different sub-sets of my friends might be horrified to know the full extent of my spiritual expressions. I am focusing on authenticity and these newsletter are one way I’m searching for the folks who will be served by this authentic work. My Tribe.

I create from a sense of abundance, a sense of joy and curiosity, experimentation and service. My audience are the folks who need to see this, read this, feel this. My work may help them get through a difficult time or might help them flourish. And I am not pandering to what I THINK they might want. I am making generous and authentic offerings… and it is extremely likely that much of what I do won’t be for you. I’ve heard this described as being “on the hook.”

OK so the slightly more “goth” interpretation of all this is that artists don’t need to sell our souls to the devil. As soon as you become an artist, doing meaningful work for people who care, you will be hooked into a life of “eternal torment.” Which is also an eternal delight.
IS THERE A PART OF YOU THAT YOU’D LIKE TO TRADE AWAY? Some pesky corner of your being that you’d rather do without? A favorite sacrificial portion is what some folks call “The Resistance” that nagging procrastinating sabateur that seems to stop your best efforts. Instead of offering it to the Infernal Pawn Shop, perhaps ask your Resistance what is it’s Positive Intent. Really listen. It probably has a perspective that your ambition would rather forget (like safety or love…) Find a higher value that your ambition and your resistance both share, like your well-being. It’s likely that this Resistance also has a resource squirreled away that it can bring to the party. I’ve sketched the process here VERY briefly. The process is something I’ve learned from NeuroLinguistic Programing (NLP) and I’d love to help you work through it. Send me a message; no signature in blood necessary!
This is a special BIRTHDAY edition of the newsletter and it comes with GIFTS! I couldn’t figure out how to give paintings away for free using my on-line story (Obligatory Link Here) so I am including photos of eight Tiny Goddess paintings that I described in my very first newsletter (Link Here) They are each 3″ x 4″ oil on gessoed panel. See one you’d like? Send me a private email telling me the number of the one you’d fancy AND your mailing address. First Come, First Served. If you miss out this week, I plan to list another 8 tiny paintings next week as well.
And feel free to GIVE this newsletter away to someone you think might dig it. And if you have received such a forwarded message, consider joining us with this subscription link: https://lp.constantcontactpages.com/su/jX0Ddba It’s my once-a-week reflection on what it’s like being creative during the past week, designed to help you spot more resources and opportunities you may have overlooked. You in?
Tiny Goddess #1 Tiny Goddess #2
Tiny Goddess #3 Tiny Goddess #4Tiny Goddess #5Tiny Goddess #6Tiny Goddess #7
Tiny Goddess #8
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stupid practice – Mercredi Express #13



I feel like I’ve just spent another hour doing something stupid. 

I’m copying an image so it’s not an original vision. It’s an image that has been copied thousands of times before me and it’s not one I feel compelled to own a copy of. It doesn’t feel like a “master copy” because I am not really learning to see and reproduce what an artist before me created. To do this exercise correctly will take hours and hours. I’m writing these paragraphs partially to remind myself that there’s any value at all in this otherwise stupid practice.

I am copying a Bargue drawing, the Psyche of Napoli, one of the famous set of 197 lithographs created by Charles Bargue for his Cours de Dessin in the late 19th C. The original lithographs depict sculpture, mostly classical and many students are instructed to reproduce them at the exact size they are seen. “Sight size” allows the student to measure points on the original and then to reproduce them identically on the copy without resorting to math. The exercise, as far as I can tell, is focused on this accuracy. Mind-numbing, boring accuracy. If I get it right, it will look identical to all the other perfect attempts. The only way I can express my “individuality” with this exercise is to get it wrong somehow.

Stephan Bauman is to blame. Bauman was an instructor at the Florence Academy of Art for 12 years until he recently left to focus on on-line art instruction. For a mere $10 a month via his Patreon https://www.patreon.com/stephenbaumanartwork/posts, he offers a cascade of instructional materials and these Bargue based exercises are part of what he’s calling the Atelier level. His plan, I believe, is to focus on one Bargue drawing each month with instruction and a draw-along, then a group critique.

For me, Bauman is just about the perfect teacher for this method which is so very far from my natural temperament –  he is affable, kind and he’s on video so I can pause whenever I need a break to rage at the stupidity of it all. Bauman takes a patient delight in making the barest marks on the page which he notes might be several millimeters off from their correct location. (!) He reminds the student that activity is happening during the oh-so-slowly evolving process with observations like “your assignment at this point in the drawing is to…” Watching his videos with his calm, slightly fastidious demeanor and soothing voice helped me get through the Miasma of the past year.

The first time I attempted this particular image was during the draw-along earlier this month. And I drew too fast. Bauman spent most of the two hours refining and re-measuring the lay-in, mapping points and their relationships. I plopped in some points, went through a hasty round or two of corrections and stampeded on to contours and values. I was trying to learn his pace and approach and I was shocked to look down and realize I rushed so far ahead. I started over.

If I want an accurate lay-in, why not use a lightbox? Or just project the image on the page with a camera obscura. Rumor has it that’s how Vermeer did it.

I don’t have a great answer to that question and while trying to reply, I figured out that there is something important that I am trying to learn about time, about how long it takes to accomplish something. I suspect that is a general trait of ALL learning, especially for skills. It is important to be able to look forward in time and to project how long some activity will take. For me, that time-map will help me manage my expectations, and my disappointments. 

I’m reminded of the post I made a few weeks ago where I compared doing a long drawing to doing a long run. It was helpful for me to realize that there’s a point, maybe half way through a drawing where I will simply HATE the piece I’m working on, just as there’s a point 10 miles into a half marathon where it simply stops being any fun whatsoever. The Wall.

I don’t know any exact comparable activity in writing, perhaps it’s some kind of editing and re-writing.

When I started over, I radically scaled up, rejecting any sense of sight size. More importantly, I rejected the sub-standard paper I was drawing on in favor of the best stock I had on hand, which happened to be larger. Bauman takes a kind of glee in the sensuous effect of graphite on good paper and at that point, I needed any kind of pleasure I could find. I crept up on the contour and tone, faster than Bauman and slower than my impulse.

Those who study the Kabbalah, or at least the esoteric Europeanized version, revere a place on the Tree of Life called Hod. It is dry and accurate and lies on the pillar of severity. And there is a specific glory found there, perhaps the delight in accurately adding a column of numbers, or editing a document for utmost clarity or in precisely placing a candle in a specified location. That is the spiritual discipline I think I am approaching with these Bargue exercises. There is an easier pleasure to take in the richness of tone and the swirl of contour and shape, possibly delights better located in Netzach. And those are not lesser delights, only different ones.

I drew a couple more sessions on this Bargue exercise before I stopped, more or less satisfied. Ultimately, I decided not to submit any of my attempts for the group critique, though I am eager to watch that video when it appears on his Patreon channel. I find it often easier to learn when a master critiques someone else’s work, perhaps because there is no scrap of my ego involved. I made an attempt, learned what I could and feel can pack up this exercise until next month. I am free again to depict imaginary gardens, ones I populate with real toads.

Perhaps this stupid practice will help them be more realistic toads. More accurate toads.r
WHAT IS SOMETHING STUPID YOU ARE PRACTICING RIGHT NOW? There are parts of even our most creative work that are stupid. Seemingly pointless. Nearly a waste of time… and yet, there might be a larger purpose. A zig that assists a later zag. And darned it, it feels good to simply admit that some things sure feel stupid, at least when seen in the middle of the process. Send me a message. Vent. I suspect I’ll know what you’re feeling.

Next month – June – is my birth month and I’ll be giving away some of the small goddess paintings I wrote about in the first newsletter. There will be plenty but the link will only be for subscribers so please forward this newsletter to anyone who might be interested. And if you have received such a forwarded message, consider joining us with this subscription link: https://lp.constantcontactpages.com/su/jX0Ddba It’s my once-a-week reflection on what it’s like being creative during the past week, designed to help you spot more resources and opportunities you may have overlooked. You in?— Here is the obligatory link to my ON-LINE ART STORE —
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what am i doing? when is it done? – Mercredi Express #12



I missed a deadline… and it led to a revelation.

This year, I’ve been setting Intentions as a broader context to setting Goals. Goals are specific and measurable and often time-bound. Intentions are the bigger picture. If Goals are the rungs of a specific ladder, Intentions help check to make sure the ladder is leaning against the right wall. Both Goals and Intentions can and should be clear and they both require different kinds of questions to achieve that clarity. Intentions get justifiably criticized when they’re used as an excuse not to do any work, when they are confused with wishes.

My intentions are so important to me that they are bigger than me. My intentions are so important that I am glad to make mistakes and to be publicly vulnerable in pursuit of them. My intentions are more valuable to me than any momentary embarrassment.

I’ve been working on a painting for about six weeks, a portrait of someone I know. I’ve had four or five good long sessions on it. The composition generally works; the overall value structure is coming along and there are even passages that I am rather happy with. Whenever I arrange to have an uninterrupted hour to work on it and when there’s a brush in my hand, I pretty reliably become “inspired,” that is, I know where the next brushstrokes have to go.

And I don’t know what I’m doing.

I know how to draw in a sketchbook. I know how to arrange darks and lights on a page to create the illusion of form. I know how to lay in an image, measuring and correcting the drawing for accuracy. I know how to mix paints on a palette to moderate hue, value and saturation.

Generally speaking, I know how to paint. I just don’t know how to paint this particular painting. All I know is that I want to paint something LIKE this painting. This particular canvas might turn out to be that painting, the one I have in my head.

I have this idea: paintings of people engaged in the work that makes them sing, that sustains and delights them. I want to see people in their power and glory, maybe in their favorite locations or places of power, holding the tools of their trade.

A good likeness, sure, that too. But cameras make better likenesses and they do it in a flash. But for the most part, photos only record what is there. I want to paint portraits of what my subjects WANT to be there, their hopes and values, what they are working to achieve in this life.

My project is magic, manifesting dreams or at least making them visible. And it is service to others, people I know and care about, helping them see themselves accomplishing their highest purposes.
I’m not certain if what I want to make are actually “portraits.” I’ve seen too many portraits that feel like tombstones, just the merest birth and death dates, pretty blocks of marble. Portraits that may or may not have looked like a person at a specific point in time but that didn’t have any life or zeal in them. I suspect I want to make something closer to allegorical or narrative paintings. Heck, I think what I’m doing is probably closest to illustration.

And I don’t know how to do this, which has been rather exciting. I have been going back and forth using the different ideas of Goal and Intention because I figure I’ll need to be clear about both. 

One rung I came up with the idea of a “soft commission.” I figured I should not start with someone who is TOO important to me soI made a list of people I admire and respect.  One person’s name felt particularly like the right choice, someone who is creative and able to see possibilities… and might be indulgence of grand experiments. I asked this person if it would be OK if I painted their likeness. Consent is always a good first step. I sketched out the project and admitted I didn’t know exactly how it all would work. I received a strong go ahead. I figured that eventually these empowered portraits would be a collaboration with someone and I needed practice in accountability.

Another rung was to conceive of a work that was modest enough that I might be able to accomplish it. Entrepreneurs call it a minimum viable product. I pared it down to a face, a hand and a phrase… and it fit with another fascination of mine, old vaudeville posters. They’ve been in the back of my mind since a visit I made to the American Magic Museum in Marshal Michigan. http://americanmuseumofmagic.com/  The subject of this piece is, among other things, a stage hypnotist. I sketched until I had a concept I thought I could pull off.

And I then hit the next challenge of turning this intention into actionable goals. I had NO IDEA how long it would take to create this painting. In addition to the life-long pursuit of mastery of paint, I had to learn how to get that pulp illustration feel. So I made up a deadline, one six weeks in the future, May 1st. I worked diligently. When I felt stuck, I would try a charcoal portrait, or a thumbnail sketch. I avoided making mistakes by rushing — one of my favorite bits of advice is to “postpone making mistakes as long as possible.” Come May 1st, I had to send another message to my subject saying that I hadn’t met the “soft deadline” for this “soft commission.” The revelation that I had due to this failure is that I need to come up with a better idea of how I can tell when this particular work is finished. I failed at the Goal and that has inspired me to ask better questions of my guiding Intention. As I write this sentence, I have no idea what the answer might be. These newsletters are a record of what I’ve been busy with during the past week, as much for my own benefit as for the creative folks who read them.

I realize how precious and pompous this all talk of lofty intentions sounds to some people. Maybe to those whose highest hopes have been frustrated, mocked and thwarted. Let me share one of my favorite insights from that fearless, ludicrous playwright Charles Ludlam: “You are a living mockery of your own ideals. If not, you have set your ideals too low.”
HOW ARE YOUR GOALS REALIZING YOUR HIGHER INTENTIONS? Maybe it sounds corny to think about your deeper values. Maybe it’s painful. In fact, it probably is painful. And it’s ultimately fulfilling to consider what your most positive hopes and dreams might be. Scribble them down somewhere. You don’t have to let anyone else see. Or if you want, share them with me. What would those intentions look like as specific goals? We all have had the experience of accomplishing a goal only to find that it wasn’t particularly satisfying. What would be satisfying?
In addition to the obligatory link to my ON-LINE ART STORE — I have a request. If you know someone who might get a kick out of these newsletters, who might be a member of the Tribe, PLEASE OH PLEASE forward it to them. And if you have received such a forwarded message, consider joining us with this subscription link: https://lp.constantcontactpages.com/su/jX0Ddba It’s my once-a-week reflection on what it’s like being creative during the past week, designed to help you spot more resources and opportunities you may have overlooked. You in?
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my drawing class ended with a NIGHTMARE – Mercredi Express #11



This week marked the end of the drawing class I took at the local community college. On Tuesday night we presented our assembled portfolios – over Zoom, of course. Gathering together the two dozen drawings I made this semester helped me realize the extent of what I’d learned. Despite any particular skills, I acquired another ability and the Germans have a perfect word for this “Sitzfleisch” or the ability to keep one’s ass in the chair long enough to do serious work. I gradually learned how much I could accomplish in a 3 hour sitting. I increased my artistic Sitzfleisch greatly this semester.

Our very last session on Thursday night, students took turns presenting a report on a piece of art. In less cloistered years, there would be a tour to an actual gallery. There was little doubt what piece I would choose, namely “The Nightmare” by Henry Fuseli. It hangs in the Detroit Institute of Art and I visit it every time  I’m at the DIA. Here is a link to a video of my presentation… (and if you notice the GLARING INCONSISTENCY I make, send me an email saying what it is with your mailing address and I’ll send you a handful of my stickers.)

Allow me to convey the depth of my love for this painting. Back in 2007, when I started a website devoted to my vivid, bad dreams, I used this image as the banner. (The site hasn’t been well tended for years, but here’s a link) When I later sponsored an award for Michigan-produced short horror films, I commissioned an award statuette based on the leering green figure in this painting. We called the award The Impy. I’ve attempted to paint a master copy on a couple occasions — each embarrassingly bad! “The Nightmare” has been part of my consciousness for something like 20 years.

So when I started doing research I was surprised that I knew so little about the work. I knew NOTHING about the artist or even about the piece from an art historical perspective. And it has been a good 20 years since I did any serious art historical research. The presentations had to top off at 5 minutes, so I didn’t do much digging but what I found made me intrigued to learn more. Here are a couple tidbits:

— Art was not Fuseli’s first career — Fuseli’s father was an artist and he STRONGLY encouraged that Fueseli NOT follow in his footsteps, especially when the young Henry showed artistic interest as a child. Henry dutifully studied and was ordained as a Protestant minister…and was forced to abandon that career and flee Switzerland when he helped expose a corrupt local magistrate. 

— Fuseli, in exile, didn’t start painting seriously until his 30’s. Looking back on the far side of 50 as I am, this doesn’t seem particularly old. However, I heard several of my class mates fretting about having to “start over” at the advanced age of their late 20’s. It’s never too late to do something new.

— Fuseli painted “The Nightmare” when he was 40. And this is in the late 1700’s. We joke that in 2021, 60 is the new 40. This was back when 40 was as good as dead. Though “The Nightmare” is probably what he is most famous for, much of Fuseli’s painting career was still ahead of him. 

There is MUCH more to say about Henry Fuseli though I’ll stop with just those tidbits. It felt poetically right that I discovered this kindred figure at the end of this class. I had been rather self-conscious about my age during most of the semester, since I was twice as old as some of the other students and nearly a decade older than the teacher. I will stop learning probably only when I stop breathing. And even if I had started my art career earlier in life, I would have continued to try new techniques, to reach just a bit beyond my grasp. 
WHAT ARE YOU LEARNING? A skill? A bit of history? A new way to look at your work? Here’s a personal party game of sorts. Have you ever discovered someone from history who felt so familiar you thought you could have BEEN them? The “past life” metaphor is a fun way to see yourself in a different way. What have you learned since that “past life?” Or are you still making the same mistakes? How could your life be different now that you’ve learned a lesson from that previous incarnation? (HINT: even if we ALL were Cleopatra, I bet EACH of us would learn different lessons.)
In addition to the obligatory link to my ON-LINE ART STORE — I have a request. If you know someone who might get a kick out of these newsletters, who might be a member of the Tribe, PLEASE OH PLEASE forward it to them. And if you have received such a forwarded message, consider joining us with this subscription link: https://lp.constantcontactpages.com/su/jX0Ddba It’s my once-a-week reflection on what it’s like being creative during the past week, designed to help you spot more resources and opportunities you may have overlooked. You in?
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rays that shoot out from my eyes – Mercredi Express #10



I developed a super-power during the Miasma and I think you can too. It requires a bit of maintenance, though so far, it’s worth the effort.

My Amazing Origin story: In recent months, I’ve taken remote art classes from first-rate instructors several time zones away. One class was Quick Figure Sketching with Eric Gist at the Watts Academy. We practiced very quick sketches of different poses, from a few seconds to a few minutes, then got expert instruction on how to improve. Quick sketch trains decisive and bold mark making and it gave me hands on experience with how few lines are needed to suggest form. I was QUITE out of my league, incidentally, surrounded by atelier-trained students from all over, and it was still a great experience. The instructor Eric has a patient manner that I found really encouraging. He would take each student’s drawing and, using a digital onionskin, draw over top to show better lines. I found it very helpful to SEE what a better choice did for more expressive gestures and tone. 

Quick sketch isn’t much time, barely enough to get down the tilt of the head, the shape of the torso and the general flow of the limbs. And that is plenty to accomplish, at least at first. Gradually, I became able to sense how each figure balanced its weight and somewhat slower, I was able to suggest that weight distribution. Eric would demo different approaches to various poses and as the class developed, his demos included suggestions for indicating how light wrapped around the figures, turning 2-d shapes into the illusion of 3-d forms. Shadows, in other words and not even blocks of darker tone, just the line where the figure would break into light and dark areas, maybe a suggestion of what kind of edge that transition occurred. And gradually, I also found myself able to make the best marks I could for those structure and gesture indications, and then to start suggesting shadow value. There was just so much to see and draw in such little time.

Seeing value, the relative light and dark, is the super power I acquired, and like a bite from a radioactive charcoal stick, it was unexpected.

I discovered that I had this power — at least fleetingly — one day as was looking at a reference photo. I remember thinking, “Wow this is a REALLY good photo because I can really see all the value differences. I wonder if there’s a Photoshop filter that does this?” I continued scrolling through the site, marveling at all the wonderful value range of these incredible photos… and it was only later that I realized the change — the Photoshop filter so to speak — had been applied to my eyes. I was able to see value and edge, maybe not quite as sexy as seeing through walls but pretty amazing. 

It wears off, I find without diligent practice of a few minutes every day or a good hour or so once a week.

The ancient Greeks theorized about how eyes worked, partially because they were curious about everything in the world and had working theories about all manner of things. Empedocles, I believe, came up with the idea that rays shot out of our eyes, “illuminated” an object so to speak and then traveled back to the viewer. The emission theory of sight was like a visual version of sonar. Spoiler: This is not correct if we assume that these rays are light. Light comes from a source, bounces off objects then travels TO our eyes. Our eyes do not emit beams of light. At least mine don’t.

And still, there is a way that my superpower is a way of “shooting out” a set of ideas, a prejudice of sorts, a pre-seeing. I learned to look for blocks of tone and the subtle shifts between them, the edges. I suspect that my super seeing ability required gaining new words for those edges; hard, firm, soft, lost… And at least so far, my ability requires that I DO something with the observation, that I attempt to record the visions with marks on paper. With much power comes much responsibility, I guess.

Eyes are incredible and seeing can be difficult. There are many very different ways of seeing. We observe and track the kinds of data that is important to us and seeing is one of the most immediate ways we are open to our worlds. It’s not lost on me that as I was acquiring this super-seeing ability that there was a national discussion about “seeing race.” I am still learning that super-power, the one that helps me be a more compassionate and just human. Like learning value and edge, seeing white supremicist culture requires learning new words and it requires actual actions and practice or else it fades away. I’m still working on a sketchbook for that.

WHAT ARE YOU LEARNING TO SEE? And what are you learning to DO with that super power. It’s worth repeating that “With ability comes responsibility” no matter how great or modest is the power. Our practices can also be as modest as a few minutes spent with a stick of charcoal. What kind of a super hero are you preparing to be tomorrow?

In addition to the obligatory link to my ON-LINE ART STORE — I have a request. If you know someone who might get a kick out of these newsletters, who might be a member of the Tribe, PLEASE OH PLEASE forward it to them. And if you have received such a forwarded message, consider joining us with this subscription link: https://lp.constantcontactpages.com/su/jX0Ddba It’s my once-a-week reflection on what it’s like being creative during the past week, designed to help you spot more resources and opportunities you may have overlooked. You in?
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an amateur runner’s guide to long distance drawing – Mercredi Express #9

An Amateur Runner’s Guideto Long Distance Drawing
This drawing – which I’m calling “Demons and Clowns” – took me roughly 6 hours, which I think is the longest time I’ve ever spent on a drawing. There is more I could do and plenty I regret doing and it’s time to say good enough. This narrative self portrait is the last assigned drawing for the Community College class I’m taking and I’m writing down some what I’ve learned specifically about doing a long drawing.

And maybe because I’m gently training for a half marathon or maybe because I just finished Haruki Murakami’s What I Talk about when I Talk about Running – a memoir as much about novel-writing as it is about running – the metaphor of “long-distance drawing” seems particularly apt. As in longer distance running, there is a mental game just as there is to a long-session bit of creativity. There’s more to it than simply putting one foot in front of the other / making another mark; there is an overall shape, an architecture, a narrative structure… I suspect there’s a similar big story to many creative works, maybe to all human projects. When I was writing my first novel, I had the sense that my brain had to get bigger to fit a novel inside it. “To build a ship, build a shipyard.” Though the metaphor of running will go in and out of focus, I hope these ideas can be applied to whatever “big race” you currently find yourself engaged in.

Shout out to Stephen Bauman (here’s a link to his Patreon) an instructor at the Florence Academy of Art. He posts long videos of his drawing sessions which give a clear sense of the patient diligence to build up a drawing especially in graphite. And in particular, he repeats a phrase “Your assignment at the point in the drawing is…” which EXACTLY captures the sense that drawing is a developing adventure, more than heaping up a big pile of details, higher and deeper.

These following remarks are mostly about charcoal which we’ve been using in class for about a month. Charcoal is fast and rather forgiving. It builds up dark and can be knocked back quite easily. And it’s a mess! Wear dark clothes… or clothes that you wouldn’t mind becoming dark.

Pre-race) Assemble materials, the grades of charcoal and tools for blending. I used a chamois, a blending stump and a hard plastic eraser. Lace up your shoes, get a good night’s sleep, use the restroom.

1) Perhaps like choosing the course or registering for a particular race, refine the overall composition with lots of sketches. Play with cheap, small pieces of paper before you commit to the good stuff. Innovate hard. Fail lots and eventually feel pretty good about the general design.

2) Just like stretching and warming up your muscles, tone the background. It’ll give options to add lights with an eraser in addition to adding darks. It’s extra classy to leave a generous border around the edges. I used the chamois to made this background tone soft. Remember how much fun it is to push around black dust on paper.

3) At the starter’s pistol, begin making the first marks for this particular picture. Get the gesture. This is the moment for movement. It’s harder to add dynamic flow once more marks accumulate. Remember how your limbs feel as they interact with the surface.

4) For about the first hour, work on general proportions and contours. Draw very lightly. Measure and measure again. This is the “line” part of the drawing. You could possibly do this with very light graphite. Obviously include the contours of the shape and also indicate the termination line where the shadow wraps around the form. In running, “negative splits” refers to running your first miles SLOWER than your last mile. Save something in the tank. This stage is still serious drawing; no amount of detail layered on top can save bad proportions — and there’s a similar sense of regret that occurs later in the drawing or run when the realization dawns of a mistake in these early steps. In my experience, most quick sketch or gesture drawings get this far and excellence at this stage sets one up to win the race.

5) Settle in. Divide areas into broad light and dark areas. Add a bit of tone gently, using the side of the charcoal. Perhaps erase a bit of the tone you laid down just to coax a little light… though I am amazed at how just a little dark transforms this midtone ground into a light. With any luck, a sense of form will emerge like your figure is leaning out of the page. Take a step back and get a bigger picture — maybe even step away or get a sip of water at a refreshment station — the whole drawing, warts and all, will be easier to see after even a minute’s break. Correct any mistakes.

6) This is the real race, where focus shifts to blocks of tone. “Lines” are mostly now just the edges between those blocks and they can be hard, firm, soft, lost… It’s easier to make an edge harder than to make one softer so keep edges soft at this stage. Knock them down a bit with a chamois or blending stump. Postpone making mistakes if you can’t avoid them entirely. I start by working with the darks, possibly because that’s what I do with paint. Your mileage may vary, perhaps. Do the dark areas look good together? Try to get just two different values in the darks. Step back. Refine the shapes because I bet you’ll have lost the drawing by this point. No worry. Find it again.

7) Another mile. Try to get four different values in the dark areas starting with the darkest darks. Once the darkest darks go in, magically reflected light will appear, almost like how the form magically appeared when the first regions of tone went in. Are those shapes right? Probably not. Refine them and start thinking about whether you LIKE those shapes. You are the artist, dammit. If you don’t like what you see, you are free to improve it.

8) It’s halfway done, maybe a bit more, and some unique challenges still await. Unlike running, I did my 6 hour drawing in two sessions and, I find myself typically quite discouraged by the end of the first session. I consider starting over or taking up another past-time. This feels like “the wall” in running, though when I’m running, it seems to happen later in the process. In my first half marathon, it happened at Mile 10 of the 13.1 miles. Maybe it’s blood sugar / glycogen levels — in both cases, come to think of it. Address that. I don’t experience a runner’s high when doing creative work, not exactly and maybe that relates to taking breaks so I can be refreshed and better enjoy the work. Painters refer to a “messy stage” and maybe that’s around here. The only way out, is through.

9) Focus on the lights, more properly called the midtones. Get a couple values within the light shapes. These will really add a sense of form, how each shifting plane catches and reflects light. I’ve heard a painter say “I’m a realist which means I am most interested in what happens in the midtones” which has stuck in my memory because I don’t really understand what it means. Maybe you will. A truism that I DO understand and hold deeply in my heart is “The darkest light is always lighter than the lightest dark.” It’s possible that your midtones have gotten too close to the darks. Step back or step away, and then re-assess. Correct. Refine. (It is entirely appropriate to feel a little smug at how good your piece looks, at least in spots and that maybe those creative endorphins kicking in. Use them to fuel the last push.)

10) It’s maybe the last mile, too soon to claim victory or even for a last sprint. Focus on transitions and edges. That blending stump really shines at this stage. Is that a gradual shift in tone like around a curved form, or is it hard or firm? It’s easier to ADD a hard edge than it is to soften one so feel smug that you’ve waited until now to firm them up. A few hard or firm edges magically can make the piece feel like it comes into focus, out of that smeary haze of charcoal powder. Step back, consider each stroke, each step. No time for a twisted ankle now.

11) The last 10 minutes or that point when you can see the finish line or hear the crowd, use white chalk/conte stick to pull out the brightest whites. Our eyes find high contrast exciting so maybe concentrate the brightest whites near to the focus area of your piece. Don’t over do it. White chalk has a reputation for turning ugly when it’s blended with charcoal, so add the white areas to already bright areas. That reputation is useful, even if not exactly true.

12) Finish the thing. Adjust a shadow, bump a contour, soften an edge… and step away. Paul Valery (I think) said “Artworks are never finished, only abandoned” and I think that’s bullshit. It confuses “finished” with “perfect” and nothing in this life will EVER be perfect. I prefer a quotation from Seth Godin “Real artists ship.” Runners have the idea of a “personal best” or a “personal record” and it is GREAT to strive for high ideals. But each race has an end. So take the medal, enjoy your celebratory carbohydrates, stretch… and maybe plan how the next time it might be even better.

 WHAT’s YOUR “BIG BIKE RACE” right now? How are you putting one step after another? There’s a “Kids in the Hall” sketch about a nerdy child who abruptly cuts off a conversation with the phrase “I’m in the middle of a big bike race!” It still cracks me up. So often in life, and in many different contexts, I find myself in a “big bike race.” Sometimes it’s a creative work. Sometimes it’s repairing a relationship. Sometimes it’s training for an actual race. What are YOU working toward right now? Are there metaphors or mental games you use to keep you working? Share!
In addition to the obligatory link to my ON-LINE ART STORE — I have a request. If you know someone who might get a kick out of these newsletters, who might be a member of the Tribe, PLEASE OH PLEASE forward it to them. And if you have received such a forwarded message, consider joining us with this subscription link: https://lp.constantcontactpages.com/su/jX0Ddba It’s my once-a-week reflection on what it’s like being creative during the past week, designed to help you spot more resources and opportunities you may have overlooked. You in?
I mention sketches in Step 1. Here are a couple. Neither one took more than 20 minutes. The one on the right informed me that an underneath light can make me look lumpy as well as spooky!
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she called me silly – Mercredi Express #8


She called me “Silly”

A complete stranger called me silly last week. To be precise, she said my work made me look silly.

Her comment didn’t come unprovoked. My hometown celebrates a couple made-up holidays the first week of April. On the first Sunday, it’s FestiFools, a parade of large hand-made puppets made by children, art students and the general hoi polloi. On the Friday night before, a similar gathering happens after night fall, a gathering of luminaries, glow in the dark costumes and laser projections, etc. On a normal year, leading up to FoolMoon there are workshops where experts guide the process of wire armature and delicate colored tissue paper. On a normal year, there is dancing in the streets. Even on a normal year, most of the town doesn’t quite “get it” …and those that do have a BLAST.

I’ve made puppets and luminaries for many FestiFools and FoolMoons. I made a 10 foot tall Jack in the Beanstalk that I carried through a rainstorm while my companion handed out packages of pole bean seeds. Another year, I danced around a 4 foot tall glowing frog with my tadpole-toting dance partner. Other years there were a huge luminous slice of blueberry pie and a ghostly half winged horse/half woman nightmare. In other words, we don’t just attend, we ARE fools for Festifools and FoolMoon. It’s a long standing date.

Things changed for COVID, of course. Last year both festivals were canceled and this year, FoolMoon came back, dim and pale. I made headpieces for my partner and myself. Hers was an astronaut helmet with blue and green lights and I was a bright orange moon. More or less. I was rushed, perhaps. Much of the Moon was crafted on the day of the event and an hour before sunset, neither piece lit up properly. By sunset, though, they were good enough. We donned matching face masks, slipped on our headpieces and set out to see what a socially-distanced folk festival would be like.

There were crowds in town, mostly-masked folks eating and drinking at the outdoor restaurants. As the graffiti says we have no problem with tents on the sidewalks as long as there are no poor people inside them. VERY few folks carried glowing any-things, even in the areas designated for us fools. We were stopped by numerous people who asked what the heck we were doing. We enthusiastically told them about FoolMoon.

Then as we walked down Fourth Avenue, a woman exited an art gallery and as she walked past us she said clearly “You look silly.” My partner thanked her and I burst out in laughter.

I have thought about her comment WAY too much this week. If she had said we looked “Foolish” I would have taken it clearly as a compliment, that she understood what we were doing and that we fit in with the festival. Perhaps that’s what she meant to say and she has been regretting her choice of words all this week as well. It’s just as likely though that this woman lives in a world where being silly is so unacceptable that she has to critique people on the street to stay vigilant against such an outrage. Then again, maybe she meant that the workmanship of these pieces was lacking and I could take that as valuable feedback. These were NOT my best pieces, they were rushed and the lights continued to misbehave throughout the night… and it felt important that we “show up” for this event, that we participate.

Her comment arrived at the end of a week where I had done a LOT of soul searching about what it means to be playful. Playful, for me, means being in-the-moment, a generous give-and-take, a series of risks and low-cost failures followed by unexpected gains and successes. I had considered NOT making a costume this year, of pretending to be one of the “citizens.” And I convinced myself to play, and to even try a couple new techniques and to use a couple new materials with a spirit of “Let’s see how this works…”

Lennon supposedly criticized a post-Beatle McCartney for writing only silly love songs, which Paul replied by writing the song “Silly Love Songs.” 

I suppose we DID look silly. And what’s wrong with that?

 HOW DID YOU RISK BEING SILLY THIS WEEK? Did you experiment, attempt some stunt or play with a new material recently? Did you try something that might not have not worked? If it didn’t work, did you survive? How did you fare? What did you learn? What’s the NEXT project you might go for, even knowing you might end up looking silly? Seriously, I’d like to know how other folks survive being silly.
Some previous FoolMoons. I wear that leather top hat to ALL outdoor festivals since I tend to wander off and it makes me easier for my partner to spot me. You will NOT feel silly wearing one! https://americanhatmakers.com/
In addition to the obligatory link to my ON-LINE ART STORE — I have a request. If you know someone who might get a kick out of these newsletters, who might be a member of the Tribe, PLEASE OH PLEASE forward it to them. And if you have received such a forwarded message, consider joining us with this subscription link: https://lp.constantcontactpages.com/su/jX0Ddba It’s my once-a-week reflection on what it’s like being creative during the past week, designed to help you spot more resources and opportunities you may have overlooked. You in?