In the Moon Again: the power of daydreaming

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As my young students were finishing their art lesson last Wednesday, one of the moms arrived at my studio to pick up her daughter. We chatted as the kids collected their belongings and trickled out the door but, as her daughter stayed focused on her artwork, I could hear the impatience in her voice when she said “Can you please pick up the pace a bit?” She laughingly explained, “No matter what the occasion, my daughter is always the last one ready to leave.”

Photo credit Jean Wallace

Yes, I thought, this kid really does live in her head and she’s perfectly happy there. But she’s also one of my most focused and clear minded students when it comes to painting with intention and finishing her artwork. Watching her at that moment, however, reminded me of my own childhood, and I could hear my mom saying “t’es encore dans la lune”!  You’re in the moon again – a poetic French expression perfectly describing that peaceful daydreaming state of mind. I must confess I was very good at it.

 

But then, of course, I grew up. I learned to ‘make the most of my waking hours’, and put my brain to ‘useful tasks’. Now though, I wonder. Am I really doing myself a favour? What if daydreaming offers powers of its own? Shouldn’t I tap into that?

Business Insider, in their blog called Here’s How To Daydream Your Way To Success, say that “History is full of high-achieving daydreamers: Einstein, Newton, and the Bronte sisters all lived much of their lives in their imaginations.” But there are right and wrong ways to daydream. They go on to explain the different styles of daydreaming as defined by Scott Barry Kaufman in “Ungifted: Intelligence Redefined” at Psychology Today:

First style: “Poor attention control daydreaming. It’s characterized by easy distractibility and difficulty concentrating on either the external environment or an ongoing train of thought,”

Second style: “Guilty-dysphoric daydreaming. It features unpleasant emotions such as anxiety, guilt, fear of failure, and obsessive, hostile, and aggressive fantasies about others.”

Neither of those styles is constructive, and both can have serious negative impacts in most aspects of one’s life.

Third style: “The best kind of daydreaming is Positive-constructive daydreaming. It’s associated with openness to experience and reflects a drive to explore ideas, imagination, feelings, and sensations. Good daydreaming is linked to happiness, success and creativity.”

Daydreaming, as long as it’s done right, is a place where we can rehearse scenarios about our lives without any real consequences. But one must have a clear goal in mind, make sure to focus on positive thoughts, and brush away the obsessive and negative thoughts.”

Details from Longing for lazy days. Acrylic painting

As an artist, I believe that daydreaming is an important part of the process. It’s a place where I can plan a work of art without wasting materials. I can imagine new ideas. I can move subjects around in my mind. I can effortlessly visualize colours and movements. I can make changes without spending a dime.   And best of all, I have access to this tool anywhere and almost any time. I can daydream as I walk my dog, or when I’m in a boring meeting, or loading the dishwasher, or shovelling the walkway. It is my most powerful, portable and accessible creative tool and I use it as much as possible.

Detail from recently finished work

The subconscious mind is willing to go where our controlled thinking refuses to. While daydreaming, I can turn my project over to my subconscious brain and let it do its creative work. When I relinquish control and let my mind wander, suddenly the answer to whatever was blocking the process just shows up and all that’s left to do is to run with it.

This is what Brain Pickings, in their blog called A 5 Step Technique for Producing Ideas, call the “seemingly serendipitous A-ha! Moment. Out of nowhere the idea will appear. It will come to you when you are least expecting it — while shaving, or bathing, or most often when you are half awake in the morning. It may waken you in the middle of the night. But for this moment to occur, the stage has to have been set up during daydreaming.”

“T’es encore dans la lune?” Good for you!

The Power to Connect: why an artist should get out of his studio and work with others

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In May of 2016 I met with my francophone artist friends at the annual event organized by RAFA (Regroupement Artistique Francophone de l’Alberta). Le Forum du RAFA is a two-day event that has consistently been one of the most inspiring of the year for us. With nourishing discussion panels and activities gathering some of the best artistic minds of Alberta – who also speak French! I look forward to it every year.

It was at this forum that some of us agreed it’s important to stay connected throughout the year to share insights and trade ideas and resources. Five of us, Karen Blanchet , Sabine Lecorre-Morre , Doris Charest,  Daniele Petit, and myself, are self-employed, and managing our careers is no small task. It dawned on us that sharing our tools of the trade and some of the work could fun and beneficial for all of us.

We created an Artist Collective we named DEVENIR. It means ‘to become’ – a name inspired by a poem written by Michel Pleau , a Canadian poet. According to Wikipedia, an artist collective is “an initiative that is the result of a group of artists working together, usually under their own management, towards shared aims. The aims of an artist collective can include almost anything that is relevant to the needs of the artist…” 

For more than a year and a half, the five of us have been meeting on skype once a week at 6:45 in the morning. Why so early? Because it’s the only time that’s almost guaranteed to be open for all of us. Our meetings are organized, with a set structure that includes a template based on Mastermind, a concept developed in 1925 by Napoleon Hill in his book The Law of Success . We each contribute our ideas and concerns and discuss them together at every meeting, an exercise that takes less than an hour.

The most important part of the process is the continuity offered by meeting regularly. It allows us to get to know one another’s art practices, personal habits and aspirations. It means that each of us can receive constructive criticism and encouragement from the other members of the group. Few people are able to clearly identify their own good or bad habits, where they might need a little encouragement and how to realize their limits in terms of overcoming obstacles and finding their own the solutions. Meeting regularly gives all of us a chance to be observed and receive support. So during our meetings, we use a series of affirmations that remind us of the power of the group and of the humble, respectful and trusting attitude we all need to embrace toward one another. We get to understand one another’s goals, it reminds us what we’re trying to achieve and brings us back on track when we stray. Best of all, we’re also there to celebrate our successes.

The quarterly physical meetings are more substantial. That’s when we spend a full day together and dig deeper into subjects that deserve our attention. It’s where we set the plans for collective artwork and exhibition projects. We discuss projects, ideas, share tools and discoveries. We also look at opportunities both for each individual and for the group, and we share the workload related to that. Five people applying to galleries have a compounding effect on our access to professional exposure.

Another important aspect of this process is the accountability factor. Once you have told the group you want to achieve something, it’s a powerful motivator. I don’t know about other people, but for me, my pride kicks in and I have to accomplish whatever I said I would do.

Putting our minds together saves time. Each of us has discovered useful tools, sourced a list of suppliers, assembled a list of galleries, and created our own systems. I use to spend two to four hours before each show building up my list of works and preparing tags. Now, though, I use Karen’s recommendation and it has saved me hours of work. She suggested I try a web tool called Artwork Archive that painlessly manages inventory. Thanks to Karen, I discovered that once I spent the initial setup time entering all my work into their system, (a task that can easily be delegated to a 16-year-old at $12/hour), then I could prepare a show catalogue and the tags to go with it in a matter of minutes.

This short, early morning skype meeting each week has done more for our respective careers than most other endeavours we’ve tried. And, as a bonus, we have a solid group of friends with similar goals and interests. As my mom would say, “They are people who are constant witnesses of your life and can vouch for you. And you can do the same for them.” DEVENIR has helped make life manageable. It multiplies opportunities and renews our focus, dedication and power to dream big.

Merci DEVENIR!

 

The Big De-clutter: What do artists do with their unsold paintings?

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I spent a few hours this fall helping friends empty their house, and that was totally traumatized!

It was an immense task, and I was forced to admit that emptying a big house of its unnecessary possessions has been waiting for me in my own home for longer than I care to admit. All of a sudden, the weight of my stuff became unbearable. So, rather than getting ahead in my marketing and painting work over the Christmas break as I had intended, I embarked on a massive and obsessive de-cluttering.

I went through every room, every drawer, and every closet and either gave or chucked away everything that we no longer used or that no longer make me happy. This, naturally, was pretty stressful for my husband and my sons. (I think my husband wondered if he was in line for the dumpster!) But soon, we all got into the process and everyone offered some of their personal possessions to dispose of. It was a gruelling process that took a lot of hours, and every new drawer I tackled made me want to take a break. But I pushed through and am glad I did.

Today I feel lighter and more optimistic. Our home feels under control and somehow, so does my state of mind. As Bustle says in his blog, 6 Benefits of De-cluttering Your Life, According To Science, “It’s good to know there is a connection between junk and other problems. We can all feel it when our desks are messy, or our kitchens out of sorts. It’s unsettling, and can hold you back from getting stuff done in life.”

Although I already feel the benefits of our de-cluttering, I still want to get rid of more things. Is this a symptom of my mind needing even more space and freedom? It could very well be. What is stopping me then, other than the fact that I have to get some work done now? I’m wondering that myself. I can certainly get rid of a lot more in my closet, but what about my studio and my sculpture shop? That is a lot more challenging.

Supply shelves in my studio

All of us who are artsy and handy know the joy of having exactly what you need close at hand when you are working on a project. Unless an artist works strictly on his computer, he needs plenty of studio materials. Having a stock of various supplies available in-house saves a lot of time and allows for the creative process to flow without interruptions. So as a visual artist, there will always be a limit to how much I can de-clutter those spaces if I want to keep productive.

However, when it comes to finished work, unsold stock is a much more difficult issue. Even the most popular artists accumulate impressive amounts of unsold work; it’s an unavoidable issue. I have an artist friend who started working on paper rather than canvass because she couldn’t stand the accumulated stock of unsold paintings. She turned to paper because it takes a lot less space.

My stock of unsold paintings, for now!

A few years ago, I had a conversation with a friend of mine who, at the time, was working for Alberta Foundation for the Arts. Part of his responsibility involved visiting aging artists’ studios to look through their inventories. The older an artist is, the more stock he has, and my friend told me that in some cases, there were many rooms stockpiled with paintings, despite the fact they reported that they had resorted to burning much of it. At first, I was shocked. It seemed like an extreme measure but, upon reflection, I realized it makes a lot of sense. Out of respect for the collectors who own some of their work, it may be a good idea to make sure that the market isn’t flooded with work at the time of the artist’s death. And, out of self-respect, it’s probably a good idea to destroy work that no longer makes you feel proud.

In light of this, I added a new rule to my professional practice. Every two years or so, I shred or burn any unsold work that I am not really proud of. (And no, you can’t have it for free!) The whole point is to make sure that whatever I leave behind after I die is a legacy that I’m entirely proud of, even if it’s only for my children to cherish. I want the work that remains in the world after my passing to represent what I was trying to create in the best light. My hope is that I will leave beauty behind, confident that through the years it will never be considered clutter by whomever owns it.

Artists out there, what do you do with your unsold paintings?

“Did you sell a lot?” The most boring question you can ask an artist

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I have been a full-time artist for over 20 years. I’ve had periods in my career where I easily sold many, and I’ve had periods when sales were slow. And yes, like everyone else, I love getting well paid for what I do. But that’s never the reason I create my work. However, inevitably, after a show is over, I’m asked, “Did you sell a lot?” And no matter what the sales might have been, that question always makes me cringe because the answer never comes close to enlightening anyone about anything.

L’Éveil, acrylic on canvas

Katie Ohe, a very successful artist with a very long career, once wisely told me that “what defines an artist is the need to be an artist”. You become an artist because you need to create all the time. Because anything else you try to do feels insignificant and empty. Because not a day goes by where you don’t actively crave time to use your tools to add something new to the world – whether it’s by pencil, paper, paints, clay, computer, or power tools.”

Artists live in a world of creation and what interests us is what we can create next using the experiences we’ve accumulated through all we have created before. Most of us fantasize about hiding in our studios and having the luxury of selling our art only to support the creation of new artwork. Selling is never the ultimate goal; it’s a means to create more.

So, if someone asks me about a show or about my career, I’m always puzzled by “Did you sell a lot?” Did I sell a lot? Is that really what you’re interested in knowing? I realize that people wish me success and that, some times, that is where that questions is coming from. But my honest answer is that the question has no relevance. And the answer has nothing to do with me, or the world, and proves nothing about the quality of the work. It also closes the conversation. It tells me that you have no interest in the quality of the work itself. Your only interest is in its marketability. It ignores all the thoughtful considerations that went into creating it.

If the artist says, “Yes, I sell tonnes,” what does that mean? Does it mean she spent a lifetime getting her work out there and that it’s finally collectable? Does it mean it matches the colours that are trendy in this particular home-decorating era? Or maybe it means the subject is neutral enough that people feel comfortable hanging it in their homes.   If the artist says, “No, I didn’t sell much” what does that mean? Does it mean the work is no good? Does it mean the artist is poor at marketing? Does it mean his work is not yet understood or recognized? And frankly who gives a damn?

Selling a lot may only be a sign that the work somehow fits into the most common taste denominator where the artist is exhibiting. It may say that the economy is in good shape since artists, like cleaning ladies, are among the first to suffer when the economy tanks and the last to recover when the market improves. But one thing is for sure: sales don’t have anything to do with the quality of the work.

Rêves de jours paresseux, show at the CAVA gallery, photo creditJanet Sacille

When you look at the work, ask yourself the some questions. Is the work technically well executed? Is what the artist presenting profound? Does it move you emotionally? Has it enlightened you, excited you, encouraged you to wonder? Do you see that the collection is thoughtfully working toward a theme?

 

In a society that over values money, it’s easy to confuse selling with quality. I see a lot of poorly executed shallow artwork that sells, and a lot of magnificent inspired work that doesn’t sell. Personally, I prefer to create the latter and hope that people recognize its worth.

As Gail Gregg says in her blog, How to talk to an artist ,” if you are a person who appreciates art but doesn’t know much about what it means to create it, the first thing to do when you attend a show should be to stand quietly in front of a work, look carefully, and think about what you’re seeing. When you consider that it can take weeks, months—even years—to make an art object, looking hard is the respectful thing to do.” Once you have actually taken the time to look and feel the work, interesting questions will naturally come to you. You might ask:

  • What were you most excited about in this new series of work?
  • Did you have a clear intention when you started this series?
  • In what ways do you feel this work has progressed in comparison to the last series?
  • What are you trying to share with us?
  • Is there an artwork here you are most proud of? Why do you feel that way about this one?
  • How do you know when the work is finished?
  • What has inspired the work I see here?
  • Do you know where you might go from here in your next series?

 

Some of those questions I borrowed from “Asking artists questions” by Carrie Brummer, but I think Gaill Greeg put it best. “The best question would be one that helps me think more deeply about my work and makes me see connections I hadn’t, or puts it into a broader context.” Personally, I just wish to have a meaningful conversation about art and life. And, art being full of depth and meaning; it should not be too hard.

We all ask the wrong questions sometimes and we all forgive each other for that. If you have asked me about my sales in the past, don’t worry. I’ve heard it so many times I honestly won’t remember it was you asking. So come to my next show! Don’t feel embarrassed. Let me tell you more about the creative process, the thinking behind the work, and together I’m sure we’ll discover aspects of my work that neither of us at first imagined.

A Toddler Could Have Painted That!

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Last week I hired a woman to clean my house. Trust me, my house needed it. I freely admit that I much prefer to be in my studio. And besides, I share this house with a bunch of boys who just don’t see the dirt and mess, as a result the house gets seriously neglected. This lovely women with lots of life experience was a welcome help.

As I was showing my new cleaner around the house that first time, she commented on all my work – truly a collection that represents every step of my progress as an artist. She loved the landscapes and the ceramic flowers, and went on to tell me how she just doesn’t “get those paintings with the rectangles. A toddler could paint those,” she proclaimed. Then we walked into my studio and she saw my newer work. I could tell she was trying to find something in them to relate to, but it was difficult for her. “These are much better than all those rectangle paintings” she said diplomatically.

I like this woman. She’s hard working and honest, and I certainly wasn’t going to allow her comment to spoil my cleaning day with her. So, while I was tiding up as fast as I could to stay ahead of her energizer pace, I wondered what are we artists doing wrong? Why is it that people with lots of life experience don’t understand the first thing about abstract paintings? Why is it that they actually believe that a child could paint a Jackson Pollock?

Does the art world not communicate? Or do we communicate in an unaccessible language? Maybe it’s a little bit of both. Many people feel completely disconnected from the language used by contemporary artists when they talk about their work. I think, too, that the school system fails to provide a basic understanding of art because the curriculum sticks to a very limited list of old masters. Today’s students have very little exposure to new work and new ways to approach and talk about art. Let’s face it: football and hockey are a much bigger part of the general culture. And frankly, most homes are decorated with cheap cookie-cutter prints bought at big-box stores. Those prints by the way, do not put any interesting amount of income in the artist’s pocket.

I realize that art is important to me, and that it’s not important for a lot of people. But I strongly believe that all of us should have at least some understanding of the critical importance of abstract work throughout our history. It requires us to have an inquiring mind – to look beyond the surface and to be open to seeing the human condition in its many manifestations. It’s a skill we should all learn because in the 21st Century, we live in a complex society among myriad cultures with incredibly diverse ways of understanding. Abstract art requires us to acknowledge that truly understanding one another is enormously challenging. But once our minds are open to that challenge, we all benefit from learning to see with different eyes.

Photo credit Jessica Labrie

“A five year old could paint this!” Every professional abstract painter out there has heard that particular critique and, believe me, they cringe every time.

So? Does Marla Olmstead’s work belong in a museum or on the fridge? Slate Culture Box commented best. “The elephants, and perhaps even your own brilliant progeny may be terrific painters—but they’re not artists. This is because art is not just about making things or slapping pigment on canvas; it’s also a way of thinking and seeing.”

Ed Swarez in his blog titled “No, your five year old could not paint that” explains, “But I do believe that, when most people apply themselves and really try to see what is going on in the artwork in front of them, they have an unsuspected instinct that allows them to connect with the work and recognize its value.”

And Hawley-Dolan and Winner, in the 2011 blog titled Seeing the Mind Behind the Art, writes “People untrained in visual art see more than they realize when looking at abstract expressionist paintings. People may say that a child could have made a work by a recognized abstract expressionist, but when forced to choose between a work by a child and one by a master such as Mark Rothko, they are drawn to the Rothko even when the work is falsely attributed to a child or nonhuman. People see the mind behind the art.”

Photo credit Jessica Labrie

Last week I shared a fun little test on my Facebook page. There are 11 images of abstract work and you must decide whether each was painted by a toddler or by a professional artist. I took the test and correctly identified 9 out of 11. And, to my knowledge, the only person who beat me is my hiking partner, Josée, who got 10 out of 11. Now Josée, although she is open-minded about art, is certainly not an art connoisseur. What she knows are toddlers. She’s been running a day home for 20 years and has seen an impressive number of toddler paintings, so you can’t fool her! She knows toddler art when she sees it.  

 

Maybe, what is needed to better appreciate abstract artwork is simply more exposer to toddlers!

A road trip to visit ALEX JANVIER’s studio

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Alex Janvier’s work is at the Glenbow Museum in Calgary for the summer (June 16 to September 9). It is a major retrospective featuring over 100 remarkable paintings and drawings.  Here is all about my Janvier road trip!

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Alex Janvier, “Tribute to Beaver Hills,” Strathcona County Hall, Sherwood Park, Alberta, photo credit Corinne Dickson

When I asked Corinne “Would you like to come along with me on a road trip to visit Alex Janvier, one of my mentors?” I may have fudged the details a little. Perhaps I neglected to say that we’d have to drive six hours to get to his studio in Cold Lake… at the end of the highway… on the far north-east side of Alberta. And maybe I forgot to mention that Alex Janvier doesn’t actually know he’s my mentor. And I’m pretty sure he’d never heard of me. But nonetheless, Alex Janvier influences every stroke of my paintbrush.

Just look at his work: it flows with life! Somehow, the movements of colour take you into his visual world where a narrative takes place, and I’m both charmed and intrigued every time I see his work. But mostly I’m inspired to reach beyond my grasp toward that level of narrative in my own work. So yes, Alex Janvier is definitely my mentor – whether he knows it or not.

At his Gallery, nestled into the forest by the Lake, we had the chance to hang out with a large number of pieces and to flip through his new work. I’m impressed by how he remains, in his old age, a very strong and very prolific painter. His new work has lost none of the energy of his earlier compositions.

Janvier, born in 1935, is of Dene Suline and Saulteaux heritage. He was raised by his loving family until, at the age of eight, he was uprooted and sent to the Blue Quills Indian Residential School near St. Paul, Alberta. But because he had always been a highly imaginative child, the school gave him the tools he needed to create his first paintings and the rest, as they say, is history. He went on to graduate with honours from the Alberta College of Art and Design in Calgary where he developed a unique and recognizable style with influences from his mother’s and other relatives’ beadwork and bark basket-making. And his recent retrospective exhibition at the National Gallery of Canada in Ottawa  has made it clear to all Canadians that Janvier is among the leaders of a small group of masterful Indigenous contemporary painters who have built and maintained successful lifelong careers.

His career didn’t come without sacrifice, however. We spent about two hours with his wife Jaqueline and she told us that together they had raised six children and that some of those years were very lean. “So,” she said, “when money came in, I filled up the freezer with meat to make sure we could survive the next lean time.”
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Me laying on ‘Tsa tsa ke k’e’, Rogers Place in Edmonton, photo credit Corinne Dickson

On our way home we stopped three times to admirer some of his public art. The most recent one is at Rogers Place in Edmonton. It’s a 14-metre diameter tile installation set into the floor of Ford Hall titled ‘Tsa tsa ke k’e’ or ‘Iron Foot Place’. I’m told it took 20 staff members six months to install the million byzantine glass tiles of the mosaic that depicts the natural beauty of the Edmonton landscape, and I’m confident that it will remain central to the soul of the city, its Indigenous and non-Indigenous history, its lands and its waters.
Six long hours home, filled with much conversation about our own careers as artists, inevitably led both Corinne and me to our own soul searching. How will we look back at our own careers in 50 years? Does Alex Janvier feel he has accomplished what he set out to do? Or is he surprised when he looks back at the work he’s compiled? Has he realized his narrative goals?
Being artists, we suspect that he knows how hard he worked and how focused and committed he has been to achieve such acclaim. And having seen his new work, we also suspect that his mind is on his next project; it never settles on past accomplishments. For creative junkies like Alex Janvier, there will never be enough time. And the next creative endeavor will always be more interesting than the ones already realized.
Corinne and I agreed. This is, indeed, a life worth living.