Chasing Time

The purpose of this blog is to document the thought process...if any...that skitters across my mind when I've committed myself to a drawing. First though, as this is my initial post, I will give a brief history on how I arrived at this point.

Aside from a handful of art classes in High school and exactly three elective art classes in university I am not trained. But 'wait' you say...'you took classes!' Taking classes and actually learning something is two entirely different things.

My high school classes consisted mostly of art history (memorization of names & dates) wedged between projects which were little more than time fillers, offering no challenge let alone instruction of technique. I put more effort into doodles that would become personalized Christmas cards to friends.

At the back end of university I was informed I needed to round out my anthropology degree with electives and out of curiosity chose to take a single life drawing, acrylic painting & sculpture class respectively. They were extremely basic, half credit classes in which I learned that my high school art courses had been a complete waste of my time. This was practical stuff that explained how to stretch and prime canvas for painting, introduced me to thinking in 3D and working fast when scribbling figure gestures. It was exhilarating!  It was also frustrating...

By this time I  had a young family, so once my undergrad was in my hand I didn't return to art unless I found the energy to fight for a slot of time during the day, in which to attend a recreational print making class or life drawing session at the local community centre. Eventually even that fell to the wayside. I did however allow myself to occasionally explore various mediums on canvas, paper and just about any surface that was available to me in the home...until such a time that I had none. Time that is. Great amounts of uninterrupted time.

I call the mental state one slides into when caught up in the rhythm of creation 'the zone'.  It's a glorious place to find yourself, as you focus on the task at hand the rest of the world melts into the background. Should your concentration be disturbed you find yourself in a state not unlike busting out of  REM sleep when the telephone rings. You are highly agitated and it's difficult,  if not impossible, to regain the same smooth, creative flow you had been enjoying moments earlier. Unplanned 2 / 20 / 60 minute breaks are zone-killers, in particular if they travel in groups.

This is why writers have offices and artists have studios. They separate themselves from intrusions in order to minimize interruption of the time they have set aside to work. Being well tuned to their personal rhythms and lifestyle of those around them as well as any deadline, they will set their work time accordingly. There may be more flexibility in their scheduling of work hours due to the nature of the project but make no mistake, just because it's not 9 to 5 doesn't make it less serious.

The problem is that most non-creative people fail to recognize what artists do as labour. The time a creative person spends devoted to their craft is oddly enough not considered work, because "they like it". Therefore  the non-creative individual doesn't afford them the same respect of time and space that a labourer or professional would automatically enjoy. This is particularly true of anyone who is self-employed. Somehow if you are good at drawing or writing, and are attempting to support yourself doing so.... you are by default doing what you love as work and it doesn't count as work therefore you doing nothing much and interruptions of your creative time should be of no consequence.

Eventually I stopped creating because I couldn't bear the emotional upset of constant interruptions of my creative time. I found myself not only frustrated but angry at my family and eventually something had to give ...and it was easier to walk away from art than my children and husband.

This summer I took stock of my life and realized that those same children are now old enough to give me the space I need to create and I took a stand. I declared 9 a.m thru noon to be my office hours ....as a start. 

For six weeks I removed myself from the household to a cafe to sit and draw. The idea being that I would produce something from scratch every day on the spot, start to finish.  It's easy enough to create in the swirl of white noise a coffee house affords, although I had to keep moving further afield to cafes which were not frequented by people I know...as they would stop to chat....which defeated the purpose.

Eventually drawing daily had become a habit. This was part of the plan. Drawing had to be something I did every single day.  Having spent decades making excuses for not drawing I was now making sure I had time to do it, and came to crave it the way others might feel a burning need to engage in athletic activities. I required this brain/eye/hand exercise the way a runner needs to hit the street. The stimulation of my imagination, the slow but steady improvement in my ability to lay lines was becoming a necessary part of my routine. It felt glorious!

It was  time to bring this ink and paper show home to my desk near the kitchen. I had developed the ability to set the time aside daily to draw and now I had to tackle the task of defending that time  in the face of domestic chaos. 

My first defensive strategy was to inform the family that approaching me while I was at my desk had better involve broken limbs or arterial spray....or I would make sure it did.

Since this only worked on my children I had to find a way to get through to my husband that my artdesk is like his home office.....a bear cage. Approached only when no other options exist and with caution. To my consternation that didn't work, so I got personal. I informed him that drawing for me was like hot yoga is for him ~ I'm supremely bitchy when I don't get my daily session. THAT for reasons that only an OCD athlete will ever understand...worked.

To keep that ball rolling I set myself a project of creating 365 days of sketches/drawings. These are all just whimsical pieces created in Moleskine books which continue to force me to practice, practice and practice.  Having a goal will, in theory, help me find confidence with the medium I have chosen to focus upon, learn skills by doing and teach my family to respect my time at the artboard.

Next step?  Branching out from the comfort zone I find myself boxed into, involving Micron pens 

Moleskine journals. 

Materials:  Pentel 0.3 HB, Micron 005 & 02 pens, in a Moleskine plain journal