New Tools
Posted: September 25, 2011 Filed under: Goals, Writers Write | Tags: 10000-Hour Rule, artists, Malcolm Gladwell, Outliers, Trusting Your Instincts, writers, writing Leave a comment »In his book Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell calls the time it takes to be good at something the 10,000-Hour Rule. That’s how long it takes. 10,000 hours. That’s twenty hours a week for ten years.
Cherry’s been taking classes at a community art center for over a year. This week, when she tried to enroll for fall semester, every class she wanted was cancelled. The choices were: repeat a beginning class or enroll in a medium that isn’t her thing.
From writing a novel, I’ve learned there is no substitute for time. I’ve also learned to trust my own judgement, to make the story mine, and to keep writing until it’s something I want to claim.
With her tuition money, Cherry bought art supplies. Real artist supplies–acrylic paint, a pallet, calligraphy pens, canvases, books on technique. This week, she started logging her 10,000 hours.
- Cherry, the artist with her subject, Jasmine.
Out Of the Box
Posted: September 24, 2011 Filed under: Aha!, Writers Write | Tags: artists, creativity, family, inspiration, Making Hay, Public Art, Tom Otterness, Urban Dictionary, walking, writers, writing Leave a comment »
The Urban Dictionary says the phrase “describes nonconformal, creative thinking. Some innovative way or breakthrough.” I see it as getting my butt out of the chair and off the computer. It’s time to fill up the well–or whatever. Blame the heat, or the fire in New Mexico, or an ongoing lack of funds. It’s been too long. So . . . out of the box and into the field.
A few miles from home, I found this public art installation, Making Hay by New York artist, Tom Otterness. The 18-foot-tall figures made of steel and hay are definitely out of the box.
Rules, Snot, and Barbara Kingsolver
Posted: June 23, 2010 Filed under: Writers Write | Tags: artists, creativity, Trusting Your Instincts, writers, writing Leave a comment »Warning: This post contains spoilers. If you haven’t read Kingsolver’s The Lacuna, you should. It’s wonderful.
In church this week, the sermon was from the book of Mark. Church leaders condemned Jesus for healing on the sabbath. Looking for a way to get rid of the messiah, the dudes in charge poked and prodded at every opportunity. Apparently, helping someone on the seventh day was against the rules. Jesus was so pissed off, he took his supernatural medicine elsewhere. Too bad that Dad forgot the eleventh commandment, “Thou shalt not repair a withered arm on a Sunday.”
Today, I picked up Cherry from art class. They drew silhouettes positioned nose to nose. The effect of light against dark created a trick. Look at the dark figure, and you see people. Watch the light space in the center, and you see a goblet. The child sitting next to Cherry drew a drippy nose on her profiles. Her mother was not amused. “What is that?” “Snot.” “Why did you draw it?” “I thought it was funny.” “Erase it, now. You’ve embarrassed me.” The kid picked up a giant art gum and removed the mucus.
The main character in Barbara Kingsolver’s The Lacuna cooks breakfast for Diego Rivera and types for Trotsky. A kid alone in the world, he needed the work. Later, he wrote the great American novel. The problem was, he did it smack in the middle of Joseph McCarthy’s witch hunt. When words are taken out of context, assigned to the writer instead of the character they were written for, he’s asked, “Did you write this? Answer yes or no.” “Yes.” Guilty as charged.
Walking with Cherry out to the car, I realized, I’m like her classmate–erasing the snot off my picture. I avoid writing the truth when it doesn’t match someone else’s sensibilities. I follow the rules, not out of commitment, but fear. What good is that? Kingsolver’s novelist wasn’t a communist, but he was prosecuted anyway. Jesus was condemned for healing on the wrong day, and that kid in art class never finished a picture. Why bother? Her mother would just make her erase it.
I’ve decided to throw away my eraser.
