Hedgehog Wants To Paint

Yesterday, while I was reading "Writing Picture Books" by Ann Whitford Paul (a fascinating guide), I was thinking of a character I had been imagining. 

The author mentioned many different ways to imagine your story draft, including turning your human character into an animal or your animal character in a human. I have not often drawn animals, but I decided to turn my girl character into a little hedgehog...

And OH MY so many lightbulbs went off. No wonder animals occupy so many children books. We can project so many qualities into animals.

Now I want to draw more hedgehogs.

 

I'll be running after your memory forever

I made this drawing a few weeks ago trying to express a certain feeling of trying to hold the memory of my brother close and not let it leave. I was thinking of how it feels like the memory is intimately close, yet lightyears away. 

This is the first year I have attempted to make a picture describing that feeling, even if it didn't come out the way I envisioned it. There is a landscape of grief that only grievers know. 

I am grateful for art and drawings and poetry and music and everyone who attempts to express those ineffable feelings.

The Magic Of Solitude

Listening to The Ravenous Blues

[caption id="attachment_12439" align="aligncenter" width="684"] 23/100 Moon Conversations "Listening to the Ravenous Blues"[/caption]

This is one of the quickest paintings I made during 100 Moon Conversations, and as it turns out, the one with perhaps the most comments and interest (from people on social media).

I woke up early, went to my desk with this title in mind, found a reference photo in my phone that seemed to fit and chose the color blue. I didn't even want to spend time painting the figure with accurate skin tones. All blue. My best work is made when I'm not overthinking.

The title comes from a poem I wrote in 2013:

Well

The small ones are close
their eyes are pins
and they float to the surface
sleeping, but they hear you
separate from them
listening to the ravenous blues
pining in corners

What does this even mean? I couldn't tell you. It's such an eerie, cryptic poem but hey, this was the kind of poetry I was writing in 2013 and sharing for critique with a poetry class. My process of writing poems was to imagine things and write them down, find word combinations that fascinated me, look in dictionaries and thesauruses, write until other words came to mind and form the words together like a tiny sculpture.  At the time I was a bit fearful to be vulnerable in poetry, or reveal anything too personal. Yet the strange poems I wrote in 2013 inspired some interesting titles for illustrations that grounded them in something more real.

The line listening to the ravenous blues emerged, and on it's own was a specifically dreamy thought I liked thinking about.

The road to good ideas is often paved with failures.

Good art isn't supposed to tell you what to think. Illustration, is usually more directive, yet there always has to be mystery. In between magic and the mundane is where the most interesting artwork exists.

"The ordinary + extra attention = the extraordinary." - Austin Kleon

 

My 10 Rules for Making Art

Every artist should write down their own rules for making art. Writing rules down (just like writing anything down) gives weight, purpose, meaning and a sense we know what were doing (even if we don't, which may be most of the time). Because with art, it can sometimes be said that there are no rules, but unconsciously we adhere to certain ones because boundaries and limits actually give us freedom.

Here are 10 rules I've come up with (that are all notes to self):

1. Write. When you write you gain clarity. The best art comes from a clear mind.


2. Make every day.


3. Make from truth.


4. Overthinking kills creativity: Just start making something.


5. Give ideas a chance even if its a ten minute sketch. Those ideas will often lead you to new ideas you wouldn't have dreamed of.


6. Share only what you feel compelled to share, even if its a thought of a piece you made.


7. Empathize with your audience, but don't let them dictate what you make. That includes (most importantly) the people in your head. See #3


8. Don't get discouraged by people not liking, commenting on, engaging with or even hating your work. Keep making and you will get better. Keep putting your work in more places and the right audience will find you.


9. When you feel stifled by your medium, engage with other mediums. Make a bad song. Act out a monologue. Dance. Plate your dinner. Use kids art supplies. Make something from nature. Pretend you are in a film...(the possibilities are endless)


10. When in doubt, write.

 

 

Making Instead of Abandoning the Idea

I've had a lot of ideas, notions, dreams, what-if's, etc... that I've abandoned over the years. I've written down ideas thinking "This could be an awesome painting" and just looking at the words is exciting. Then sometimes I will come back to that same idea and try to attempt it. "What was I thinking? This is silly! Should I make this? Maybe I'll work on this better idea". And the idea will fade away into the ether.

Overthinking is the thief of ideas...and joy.

There is a difference between being selective about ideas with one's limited time to work, and abandoning ideas before they have a chance to become something.

I am currently on day 61 of my third 100 day project. If you glance at my Instagram you might think I'm just like "Yeah dude, I'm doing this. This is so effortless for me!" But the reality is that every single day I doubt myself and my abilities and want to stop sharing, yet every single day I push past those thoughts because the fear of failure is worse than actually failing. Failing does not feel good, and I fail every day.

Ideas often fall short. The work that I make often does not resonate with people who are either indifferent or uninterested. So why keep going? Because every artist, musician, writer, athlete, human being whom I deeply respect has had those often soul crushing experiences. The key is that they didn't give up. The only way to close the gap between what I make and what I wish to make, is by making a large volume of work.

I find that working on a consecutive project where I am producing work every day pushes me to work out ideas that I might normally have cast aside for fear of "wasting time". The process is never a waste of time right? Every wise human knows this. Yet often that fact can only really be known in retrospect.

Each idea is a catalyst for another. Writing down words creates room for more words. Making drawings makes room for other drawings. Making songs makes room for new songs.

 

How can one know what the good ideas are? It's only by making so many (often bad) pieces of work that the good (and great) ones start to surface.

My Brother

I’ve kept the memory of my brother Chris alive in my mind for 19 years. For many years the awareness of who he was was too painful to acknowledge. I was angry that he left me alone on this earth. He was my comrade. My teacher. My first and only true friend. Because of him, I love writing and music and comedy.

He understood from an early age what life was about. If only I could have had Chris  around in my twenties. If only I could have seen him move through life, just four year older than I was. He would have inspired so many more people, but he will always inspire me.

When I was about sixteen, Chris gave me this intro to philosophy textbook and said “I’ll only let you keep this if you will read it”. He was passionate, wrote poetry, and loved asking questions and diving deeper. But my favorite thing about him was how he was curious about people and genuinely cared about them in a way that is rare for anyone. I will never understand why his life had to be cut short. I feel the devastating loss of his potential. I feel immense joy from his memory.

Chris took me to see the first Jurassic Park in the theatre. I didn't want to see the violent part so he told me when to close my eyes, even though I'm sure he wanted me to experience the entire movie. I’ll always remember that feeling. This was the same brother who convinced me to go on Collossus at Magic Mountain even though I was begging to change my mind at the last minute. He said “Once you are locked in you have to ride, it’s the rules” and when it was over and I had an awesome time, he was so excited saying “Aren’t you glad you went? I was just kidding, you could have gotten off the ride! But see? You had fun!” Oh, my brother. He was brave and wanted me to be brave as well.

I think of my brother Chris  today and I’ll think of him tomorrow. I will always wish he was here. I will tell Juniper about her uncle and I will show her his writings one day. When I watch her devouring all kinds of food I feel joy and gratitude remember how much Chris loved good food.

There is that Beatles lyric that says “She’s not a girl who misses much”…well, I am not that girl. I miss my brother. I miss memories I'll never have with him. I miss his hilarious, poetic, soulful, generous presence. His incomparable personality. It’s always hard to convey his loss to people who have never met him. I’ve often felt a deep loneliness without my big brother here. Yet, as long as I am alive, the memory and beauty of who he was lives on through me in whatever way I can manage it. 

He will forever be the inspiration behind why I put my art out into the world. When he was here, I was too shy to show it to him.

I won’t always post things publicly on this date, but this year I felt compelled to share some thoughts. It’s taken me this many years to even come close to be able to write something like this, let alone share it.

I miss you Chris, and I wish you were here.

I also want to say thank you to my Mom for bringing him into the world. You have showed strength without measure, and despite your profound sadness and grief, you still show up with generosity, kindness and love. I love you always.