Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Good Advice
I was in a bit of a tither earlier today. I was working on the next Fat Camille and all sorts of critical words kept popping into my mind. Nasty words orbited around my head like mean little asteroids. It got so bad, that I started incorporating them into the story, as if I had Tourette's, where the more I wanted to ignore them, the more impossible it became. Then I felt even more retarded. This wasn't a part of the story. I didn't want this here.
'Cuz its My Fucking Praxis
Usually when I am working, its Deep Camilleland, and my voice is the only one I am hearing. I create a safe bubble where things can crawl out, do their funny dance and leave their little tracings on my pad. Then later, when I am editing, photoshopping, or wielding the mighty white-out, I can be critical, brutal and be concerned about larger issues of flow and coherence.
I have gone through The Artist's Way about a half dozen times over the past six years. I used to always skip the part where she asks the reader to list out all the critical things that have been said, that have created a "block." After twelve years of pursuing my art, I have developed a rather thick skin, and outside criticism hasn't been much of a hindrance (not to say there aren't plenty of other internal hindrances). I was feeling guilty for the first time and so crummy that I thought briefly about scrapping the whole book.
Locus of Control
I had forgotten about the Rule of Silence-- the idea that while a project is in its proverbial infancy, it shouldn't be exposed to the harsh florescent light of judgment. It should have a nice warm place to gestate. Otherwise, the artist will start picking on warts that aren't even there, and there won't be anything left of the original idea, and it will, actually, be lame.
I am going back to my drafting table.
Shhhhhh.
PS, The illustration at the top of the post is from the H (see her link on the bottom). Its the first page of her brilliant picture book about a geisha's training, which I truly hope to see at the APE. Hey, H, if you want the originals, let me know. I chose it because of the nature of this post, I really couldn't put anything up that I am working on right now. That will come later.
Labels:
art,
blocks,
praxis,
the artist's way
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3 comments:
Weird. I just finished an Artist's Way thingamajig (or at least do tomorrow). Didn't figure I had it in me, did you? (and yes much of it was really cheezy, specially those quotes on the side... but I am writing again)
...alos there must be something contagious in your Lacanian tangent. I got on here and saw the new fat Camille at the top and (mind you there is quite a distance from my monitor to me) thought for a second it was a Francis Bacon inspired piece o' artistic gore. It's not too far of a stretch, as she is surrounded by a sea of red.
Hey Cowpunker, glad to hear that you are writing. And thanks for visiting.
I can't remember the premise of the geisha in training. Was it that she kept getting distracted by the dirty books?
H
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