Leah Wilson Fine Art Notebook Blog

Day Job

Posted on: February 20th, 2012 by Leah Wilson Leave Your THOUGHTS & COMMENTS on This Post...

Lately, as life would have it, I’ve been dealing with more obstacles to the creative process rather than to the creative process itself. Studio time has become more scarce. Much more scarce. I needed to get a day job a few weeks ago. It severely cuts into my art making. After a non-productive bout of feeling bitter about my situation, I got on with it to see what I could do to ensure that my art making doesn’t fall by the wayside as it has in the past because of day jobs.

Let me backtrack a bit to before I got this new job. I knew that I hadn’t been the best at juggling art and a job. Instead of diving headlong into the first opportunity that came my way, I considered what got in the way before. Here’s a list:

I liked my day job too much and got wrapped up in it. It’s not hard to do when whitewater kayaking is the day job.
Time-suck distances. There have been a few jobs that were great, but they were over an hour’s commute from my home. That meant that I was either never home, or home just long enough to eat and sleep.
Occupational loathing. I had a job that I disliked so much that it sucked all of the life and energy from me. There was no way I was going to be productive in my studio in my spare time.
Self-employment. Although it works for some, I had a very difficult time promoting myself in an endeavor that I thought would make money so I could concentrate on just making art in the studio. Making a living became too stressful and I felt like I couldn’t gamble with my time by painting when I had bills to pay. I became a crazy workaholic doing a job I didn’t want to be doing.
Work that is too closely related to making art. When I was doing design work I had to be thinking about color and composition, but not in ways that I wanted to be thinking. Burn out. Getting in the studio to work with color and composition just didn’t happen.

I knew that when I started to look for a job I couldn’t get one that I liked too much, that was too far away, that I despised, that I started myself or that had anything to do with art making. I also knew that I couldn’t work too many hours, but I needed to make a salary that would pay the bills.

It lead to a decision that I thought I would never make again: I’m working in a law office as a legal assistant. This was what I did as a graduated student in San Francisco. I didn’t enjoy the work, but I was able to pay my rent in a very expensive city by working part time.

Here are the benefits:

I have a lunch break that allows me time to work on my computer (I’m on my lunch break as I write this). I’ve also been able to plow through mundane database projects that I had been procrastinating doing since being in the studio is far more appealing than data entry. There is no studio here to distract me.
When I leave work, I LEAVE work. It doesn’t loom over me. That leaves space in my life to dedicate to art.
I don’t need to put all of my free time to finding jobs or clients. The work just shows up at my desk and I do it.
This is not something that I aspire to be doing with my time. It is a huge motivating factor to get in my studio AND promote it.
I don’t have to worry if what I am making will ‘sell.’ I can separate my instinct for survival from my art. This frees me to make work that is true to itself rather than something that may please someone. I’ve found that it rarely does please anyone when that is the goal.

Now, four days a week I have to put on heels instead of my fuzzy slippers. I hope to escape the day job one of these days. But for now, having it has relieved a lot of stress. Working in my studio is actually fun again.

Starting

Posted on: January 27th, 2012 by Leah Wilson Leave Your THOUGHTS & COMMENTS on This Post...

That big project that I had in mind, the one that I have formally announced that I am starting… Yeah, that one. It’s not exactly rolling smoothly and effortlessly. The creative wheels haven’t started to churn efficiently.

Just because a commitment is made to start a project doesn’t mean that it will actually flow. It doesn’t make the door into the heart of the project any more clearly defined. Nor does it suddenly announce a logical starting point.

Committing to a project only means that I have said that I am going to pull the idea out of the large file cabinet of my mind, dust it off, and attempt to make something of it.

But where to start?

The project is based around the HJ Andrews Experimental Forest. I was given two huge binders filled with documents to sort through, most of which ‘Hoss’ Andrews generated during his career as a forester. The logical place would be to start there, so that’s what I attempted. I sat and read through a bunch of documents that don’t mean that much to me at this point in time. I don’t have enough background knowledge under my belt. I stared at the binders for a few days but ultimately became frustrated.

The road to HJ Andrews Experimental Forest washed away in a landslide. Photo by Fred Bierlmaier

In a fleeting moment of confidence, I e-mailed someone who is thick in the workings of the current iteration on the HJ Andrews Experimental Forest. I wasn’t sure what it was that I wanted to say because I’m not far enough along with my thinking to know what I need. So I basically just introduced myself. My introduction was met with enthusiasm, but said person is out of town for a month or so. Luckily, that avenue is on hold, hopefully for long enough to let me gain a foothold. However, it didn’t provide a step further into the project — at least not for now.

Most of the time visiting the location a project is based on is a tried and true way to gain some clarity. That was my next plan of action. But this plan was thwarted by the forces of nature. Oregon was inundated by water. Lots of water. The road in to the HJ Andrews forest was washed away.

Back to the beginning.

Although all of these attempts to find a way in to the project didn’t pan out too well, they were actually very helpful. This project has so many different facets. There are too many choices available that the many options for starting became debilitating. I was stuck because it seemed too big to wrap my head around.

Forces beyond my control worked in my favor by narrowing my choices. I didn’t know where to start so I was just stabbing around to see if anything could provide a path to follow. But when the options fell away, I finally had a clear starting point because I had a narrow focus to contend with: my big binders.

Those are too big in their own right. It was my job to narrow down the choices even further, but I now had only to concentrate on those binders alone. The project suddenly felt more manageable.

Even more narrow.

I thought about the things that attracted me to this idea in the first place.

Before moving to Oregon, when Tim and I were first dating, HJ Andrews was one of the first places that he took me. It was one of his special places. Because of that, it was flagged in my mind as ‘important’.
I kayaked the Blue River, the river running through part of the forest. I am a sucker for places where I have kayaked (see Average Colors of the South Yuba River)
I am even more partial to places that I have kayaked that are in the same watershed where my drinking water originates. Blue River: check.
Tim and I stayed the night at his grandmother’s house a few years back. She pulled out a bunch of her father’s documents (Hoss’s documents) – these are the ones that I have in my possession in those formidable binders (at least copies of them are). The ones that I was most taken with were all of the letters of condolence that poured in after his untimely death. They even included a handwritten letter from Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas. This intrigued me, but I can’t exactly say why.

Number four is where I started to dig. I have the letters that intrigued me in the past, even though I still don’t know why. Now I have a question to pursue.

Starting a project isn’t always easy. When it isn’t, I usually find it’s because I’m not clear enough about what I am doing. I don’t have a definite question to answer or problem to solve – the idea is too big, to vague and too nebulous to grasp.

Part of the creative process is narrowing things down and eliminating options. This may sound contrary to many beliefs on creativity, erroneous beliefs in my opinion. I’ve heard many variations on the theme that anything that creates rules or boundaries is harmful to creativity. But I disagree. Boundaries are needed to keep an idea from becoming an unruly beast that can’t be worked with. Eliminating options can be the key that creates real freedom that didn’t exist when there was false ‘freedom’ within the idea (too many possibilities and choices).

I still don’t know what I am going to eventually do with those condolence letters, but at least I have a place to start. I have scanned each one of them and have begun to manipulate the words.

Now comes the fun of playing with a composition. This is when the creative process actually feels creative. More on that later.

Have you ever felt paralyzed or stuck at the beginning of a creative endeavor? Tell me how you moved through it.

Tags: creativity, HJ Andrews
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When an Idea Becomes a ‘Project’

Posted on: January 12th, 2012 by Leah Wilson Leave Your THOUGHTS & COMMENTS on This Post...

One of things I want to do is examine my own creative process more closely. I’ve started a new project, so now would be a good time to start this process.

There has been an idea bumping around in my head for years. I’ve been meaning to transfer it from my mind’s Potential Project file to the In Progress Project file. maybe I was waiting for it to transfer itself. It didn’t do it. Then it made the first move. At least that’s how it felt.

There are many reasons (excuses) for not making the transfer earlier.

The first is that it’s a big idea. I had, and still have, no idea where to start. In writing that last sentence I think I just dismissed that excuse as not relevant. I have officially started the Project, but that has brought me no clarity. None at all. It’s a little disconcerting.

The second is that it involves a long-dead family member, not of mine, but of my partner Tim. I must admit that I didn’t want to have to ask anyone in his family for help. More than that, I didn’t want them to even know that I had an idea for a project like this in the first place. If they know, then I would probably be asked questions that I couldn’t answer. This, by the way has happened already. Questions have been asked, and I have had no answers. But it hasn’t been a problem.

The third is that I have been working on other projects. This is true, but also, I believe irrelevant. I am currently working on a different project, but that didn’t have any impact on starting this new one now.

When Does An Idea Become an Actual PROJECT?

Horace (Hoss) Andrews

A while back I created a folder on my computer that I named HJ Andrews. That’s the name of the project so far. It’s a straightforward name. Tim’s Great Grandfather’s name was Horace Justin Andrews. There is a little piece of land east of Eugene by the Blue River that is called HJ Andrews Experimental Forest. So, as you can see, I spent no brain power coming up with this name.

But the creation of a folder did not commence the project. The folder sat there empty for months. Sometimes my eye would dwell briefly on it. I occasionally momentarily felt mildly guilty.

I also bounced around ideas with Tim, but nothing manifested. Nothing stuck nor begged to be explored more. The idea remained only an idea.

Now It’s a Project!

Last month I met with a friend, Trevor, in San Francisco about an exhibition we are creating as a collaborative project. After showing me his work and telling me a long personal story about what was driving his drawings and, in fact the entire exhibition he has conceived, he asked what I had in mind to create. I opened my mouth and out poured the whole story about the HJ Andrews idea. It made perfect sense in that particular moment. Tim was with me and I asked him to fill in details for me when my own information was insufficient. ‘I am planning,’ I heard myself say, ‘to use this exhibition to launch this new major project that I suspect will progress for years.’ This is not at all what I had planned to do for the show. But Trevor’s eyes lit up. He thought it was a great idea.

In a spontaneous act I announced the beginning of the project to two witnesses. That’s how this particular idea has turned into a project. It’s not the regular trajectory an idea usually takes, but this one is one of the more defined paths an idea has taken.

To seal the deal, when I got back to Oregon, I asked Tim’s family if I could borrow the binders they have of HJ Andrews’ documents. They are huge and demanded that I carve out a space for them in my small office area. I have scanned a document or two. There are pink flags on pages in the binders — placed there by me.

And now I am telling anyone that reads this that I have started a new project called HJ Andrews (title open for revision).

What this idea needed to finally manifest itself into Project form was for me to announce it formally as so. I have announced what I have been thinking. Now I no longer have an idea — I have a Project.

Tags: creative process, HJ Andrews, Starting a project
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Mojo Costume

Posted on: December 18th, 2011 by Leah Wilson Read 1 COMMENT & Join the Conversation

Many artists have undergone name changes. Pen names are common enough for authors. But why? What advantage do you get with a pen name?

Identity Crisis

I’ve thought about the possibility of changing my name professionally, but it never developed into anything more than a thought experiment. There’s nothing wrong with my name, although Wilson isn’t terribly memorable or unique. I thought about including my middle name to be known as Leah Catherine Wilson. Or maybe just Leah C. Wilson. What’s kept me from doing it is the simple fact that I would have to go changing my business cards and everything else that I have associated with my identity as an artist. That sounds like too much of a pain in the ass for something that I am not that invested in doing. That and my name is Leah and I’m fine with that.

But the possibility still lingers in my mind. I have to ask why. What purpose would it serve?

Fleecy Muppet Artist

Not my art mojo costume: Head to toe fleece & no conference room

Myself, as the regular Leah, is very comfortable spending long hours in solitude. I do it well and I relish that I have the opportunity to do so. I go to my studio to paint, then I come out to do some work on the computer for a while. And all along I am wearing studio clothes. Sometimes that would be red scrubs, many sizes too big, rolled up at the waist and smeared with paint. Sometimes it’s Carhartt overalls size 44. Two of me can fit in there with room to spare. My hoodie sweatshirts have holes in them. You get the picture. I’m typically not very stylish. In fact, if I am not working in my studio, I can often be found wearing head to toe fleece, mismatched. I look like a piecemeal Muppet. As I write this it’s 2:30 in the afternoon and I have my purple bathrobe over fleece pants that flaunt a most ridiculous pattern of butterflies, paisley and flowers.

That’s the Leah Wilson that gets the job done in the studio. But Leah Wilson the artist cannot go out in the world looking like that and expect to be taken seriously. So, obviously I don’t. At least not usually.

But there is a deeper issue than just dressing like a Muppet when nobody is around and putting on regular street clothes to go out. It’s an identity issue that can get in the way of getting another type of job done.

Developing a Mojo Wardrobe

Not mojo-costumed enough at my opening at Guardino Gallery (Note that I’m clutching my cup of wine like a fiend)

I like being alone in the studio. I also like hanging out with a few select people that don’t care about my fleece wardrobe. And if Leah Wilson the artist had her way, that’s all that she would be doing. I’m really good at avoiding things that I don’t like to do when it comes to promoting my art. I don’t like small talk, networking, mingling, schmoozing, gallery openings and everything else that I can possible associate with ‘business.’

That’s why I have contemplated the possibility of a name change. It’s not for making art, but getting it out there in the world. It would be for creating a different character that could go out there and mingle so Leah Wilson the artist wouldn’t have to. But as I mentioned above, my name is my name and I don’t care to change it.

Instead what I change is my appearance. This, by the way, is still in development. I am creating a mojo wardrobe. This is a collection of clothes that I would never wear as regular Leah, the Leah I identify myself as being. There is no fleece at all in this. There is even no room for the black and white striped fingerless gloves that I am wearing right now that say ‘Kick Ass!’ along my knuckles in hot pink capital letters.

A Character Emerges

I tried this out last week. I had tied my stomach in a huge knot over an impending meeting. I needed to convince four individuals sitting at a conference table that I rock. Conference tables aren’t my thing. Nor is a scripted interview in which I was not privy to the script. Part of me wished that I could just get sick so I could avoid the situation altogether. But the other part of me knew that I was being wimpy and started to ridicule the part of me that wanted to avoid the very real possibility of the dreaded R-word: Rejection. I had created an internal battle that equated self-worth, and my very right to call myself an artist with my performance during this interview. I readily handed over the power to decide if I was worthy enough to make art to four people whom I had never met and who knew nothing of me. I tormented myself to no end with this.

I then latched on to the performance part of an interview. Performers put on costumes to get into character. Why couldn’t I? If I were playing a character that I had meticulously prepared for, then that character could be accepted or rejected instead of the Leah that I associate myself as being.

The day before the interview I put together an outfit that I had never worn even though it consisted of clothes that I had worn in the past. I thought it looked professional yet with a hint of artsy. Perfect. And do you know what? It worked. That doesn’t mean that I got what I wanted, because I didn’t. It means that I walked in there, faced those four people sitting there and answered all of their questions calmly, confidently and clearly. I left feeling like I did the best that I could have done within the context of the character that I needed to be for that situation. I untangled the knot in my stomach for a time and got the unpleasant job done.

I felt on top of the world for a very short time just for the fact that I had acted my part well. However, my performance wasn’t accepted by that committee. I had to deal with the big R Rejection after all. But this time it seemed a tiny bit easier. The particular character that I brought to the table wasn’t the one that they wanted for their part. But that had no bearing on Leah the artist that I wanted so desperately to protect by not even showing up in the first place. I had separated myself from the outcome of the experience.

Character Development

I can’t tell you how many times the wimpy Leah has won. Countless times I have neglected to even show up. I’m not proud of this and I desperately want it to stop. So I’m going to investigate this character thing further. I want to create a wardrobe specifically dedicated to the business side of my art that is in no way connected with what I wear in the studio, to hang out with friends, or even go grocery shopping. I want it to be dedicated to a fully developed character of my making. One that is confident and comfortable with small talk. I’m even willing to experiment with make up. Anyone else with me?

Do you have a alter ego persona to help you get over the fear of doing what makes you feel most uncomfortable? Let me know in with a comment.

Related Articles: Fear, Sex Toys and Driftwood

Shawn Tuttle of Project Simply and The Natural Professional tells a similar story involving a training bra that addresses self sabotage caused by trying to protect a younger version of herself.

Tags: art persona, artist, fear, mojo
Posted in Creative Process, Studio Notebook | Read 1 COMMENT & Join the Conversation »

7 Creative Ways To Make Eggs

Posted on: December 12th, 2011 by Leah Wilson Leave Your THOUGHTS & COMMENTS on This Post...

What Is Creativity Anyway?

It occurred to me that although I do something considered creative I was still unclear what the word creativity really means to me. Sure, I could go to a dictionary to find a definition (and in fact I did, but it didn’t help at all). I want something more meaningful, something with more depth than the concise dictionary definition. Although I don’t think that creativity is magic, I also don’t think that it is one simple or singular process. Which means that I don’t have an easy, clean answer like the dictionary has. Creativity is complex.

The word creative is often used in a simple way: it is thrown around easily to express approval: ‘That was a really creative idea!’=‘I really liked that idea!’ Just because you like an idea and deem it worthy, does it mean that it is truly creative? No, but I think that it hints to an element of creativity.

Creative is also often used as an adjective to describe something that may be new to you. Magazines and blogs do it all the time to catch your attention: ‘7 Creative Ways to Make Eggs!’ You can easily call it ‘Different-To-You Ways to Make Eggs.’ You read it; you make the eggs. Is this creativity? I say it is not…. But it could be a step toward creativity.

If you are always arriving at new solutions to a problem, are you being creative? This thought gives me brief pause, but I also give it the same answer as above: no, but it is relevant to creativity certainly.

Hard Work

If you make all of the different recipes for eggs and you really learn the ins and outs of egg making you are developing a skill and a broad knowledge base for eggs. You begin to develop a discerning palette for eggs. You realize that making everything you can that possibly relates to eggs is hard work. Now you are on to something. The more you know about your subject, the more you will understand your given field and the more ideas and options you will be able to generate.

Studies have shown that it takes at least twelve years of concentrated study to develop the skills needed to master an activity. Mozart was able to make impressive music at the age of three. But it took him twelve years of hard work to finally produce his first notable composition. It takes a lot of practice to be able to understand your creative realm well enough for high levels of creativity to happen.

Lack of skill has killed more than one good idea. If there is no way to bring an idea to life, to recombine or transform it using your medium or chosen field of study, it remains an idea only. There is no short cut with this one. If you wish to be more creative, start practicing your art. And don’t stop. That is the key to it. You must keep working and learning.

Ideas

Creativity requires bringing together different elements to arrive at something new, at least new to you, that is. To be able to do that you need to be able to generate many ideas, and many different combinations of those ideas. The more knowledge you have, the more likely you will be able to arrive at compelling ideas. You must have knowledge about your field of study, but you must have knowledge about the world around you too. The broader base of knowledge that you have, the more combinations of ideas you will have at your disposal.

This is almost exactly the opposite concept from the hard work it takes to develop a skill, a specialization. When developing a skill, focus is essential. But when it comes to ideas, the more things you know about, the better off you will be. Pick up a book and start reading!

Sir Ken Robinson: Changing the Education Paradigm to Support Divergent Thinking

The more ideas that you can possibly generate to answer a given question, the more successful you will be with divergent thinking. Sir Ken Robinson discusses divergent thinking as an essential aspect of creative thinking in his animated lecture about the need to change the current education paradigm. Divergent thinking is the ability to come up with ideas by exploring numerous different possible answers or solutions to any given question. It’s the ability to see many different meanings in a single question. Divergent thinking is creating possibilities.

It is also a fragile aspect of creativity. I agree with Robinson’s call to change the education paradigm. He believes that it is very effective at killing creativity by stifling divergent thinking. The easiest way to kill creativity in most people is to tell them that their ideas are wrong. If they believe that their ideas are not valued, they will probably simply stop coming up with any more ideas.

Ideas need to flow freely, even dumb ones. Ideas typically generate more ideas. They tend to multiply like bunnies. And even the dumb ones may offer a tidbit of value that can be transformed into a new idea.

Value

At any given time I carry many different ideas for potential future projects. I collect them like someone may collect recipes, flowers, books, or anything else that people collect. Some of these ideas bump around in my head. Some end up on some random scrap of paper never to be seen again. And some make it to an organized system. These ideas are not creativity either. They are creativity’s potential. They are starting points or elements waiting to be utilized.

Most of those ideas never become anything more that merely thoughts. Some I keep for a while, seeing if I can combine them with something else. What I am doing is trying different combinations of ideas to see if I can come up with anything that I find interesting to explore deeper, explore with paint, for example. I am looking to see if I can see value in the ideas. A large part of creativity is the ability to discern value: which ideas are worth pursuing; which are best to leave in the files until they develop, and which are best to through into the recycling bin. This is the most subjective aspect of creativity, and the one that will carry your most easily discernable fingerprint.

Creativity Is:

Skills and hard work
Ideas & knowledge
Capability to discern value

It is not magic, but it is a lot of work.

What do you feel creativity is? Let me know your thoughts.

Tags: creativity, divergent thinking
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Changing the Education Paradigm to Support Divergent Thinking

Posted on: November 30th, 2011 by Leah Wilson Leave Your THOUGHTS & COMMENTS on This Post...

This one was brought to me by my mom who is a professor in the Department of Education at the University of Nebraska, hence this is a lecture that is primarily addressing issues with the education system. But is is so applicable to art. Sir Ken Robinson makes a strong argument for changing the paradigm in a way that will support the arts. The current system squashes aesthetic experiences, experiences when your senses are operating at their full capacity: when we are fully present. A victim of this system is the arts. Changing the education paradigm must also include increasing divergent thinking, increasing the capacity for creativity. Divergent thinking gives the capacity to come up with a lot of answers to a problem and lots of ways to interpret a question. Education should not decrease creativity, it should increase it. Plus, who doesn’t like cool whiteboard illustrations?

Thanks, Mom!

Tags: creativity, divergent thinking, education
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Nathalie Miebach Translates Weather Data Into Form And Sound

Posted on: November 6th, 2011 by Leah Wilson Leave Your THOUGHTS & COMMENTS on This Post...

Recently I had the opportunity to visit a friend in Boston from undergraduate school. As we were talking about our art over coffee at her kitchen table, she mentioned a Boston artist that she thought I’d like who translates weather data into sculpture and musical scores. A kindred artist! Nathalie Miebach articulately explains the systems that she creates that dictate the shape of her sculptures and music: ‘it is the numbers that control the form, not [her].… and together these variables not only construct the form, but they also reveal behavioral relationships that may not come across in a two dimensional graph.’

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Some Creative Habits

Posted on: November 1st, 2011 by Leah Wilson Leave Your THOUGHTS & COMMENTS on This Post...

Ever curious about other people’s creative process, I recently picked up renowned choreographer Twyla Tharp’s book, The Creative Habit: Learn It And Use It For Life. Tharp weaves insight into her own creative process within a very practical guide to honing your own creativity whether you are an artist or a business person. Her philosophy about creativity is in line with my own: creativity takes hard work. Inherent skill is great, but nothing can come of it without hours and hours of work. The creative process is much less romantic than Hollywood would have us all think. Mine includes a lot of shuffling around wearing slippers and a purple bathrobe, a research process that can use more systemization, and talking to people about life the world and everything.

In general, I would say that I have a pretty good grasp on my own process. But The Creative Habit has made me stop and really think about what I do and why. I’ve been surprised at some of my realizations. As I began reading the book I glanced over her exercises with the arrogant thought that those are for business people, not me. But as I read more, she caught me. I’ve decided to go back through and do every one, even the ones that I feel most resistant. Those, in fact, are probably the most important. As I do them, I plan to write about the results.

I highly recommend this book to everyone and anyone, no matter what you do. If you read it (or have read it) please let me know your thoughts, especially if you have tried any of the exercises.

In the meantime, here is an introduction to Twyla Tharp: a conversation with Norma Kamali.

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Fire

Posted on: October 18th, 2011 by Leah Wilson Leave Your THOUGHTS & COMMENTS on This Post...

I have been waiting for this for months. Finally the prairie has been burned. I started to doubt it for a while because it hadn’t happened, but we’ve gotten a few considerable rains already this fall. It’s all about timing.

The first place I headed toward was the viewing platform, a large deck off the parking area that overlooks the patch of land sectioned off to be a native wetland prairie at the Finley Wildlife Preserve. The edge of the deck was singed. I wish I could have seen the actual fire event. How high do the flames get? How fast does it spread? Does it spread in a sheet of fire? And how long do the flames last in a given area?

The trail intrigued me. It was still there, meandering through the prairie, it looked untouched as if someone carefully covered it while the grasses burned all around it. As I walked down it, I recognized some places that I had come to know because of the plants and flowers: a slight dip collected water that enabled a bright green patch of Elegant Downingia to remain throughout most of the summer. The dip was still there, but there was no evidence of the bright green that had been. Most of the trail looked vaguely familiar, but not entirely; I was disorganized without my normal markers of plants.

The new deep blacks of the prairie were punctuated by a few bright colors scattered through the prairie. Although the bright green patch in the little depression was gone, bright green was still present. New grasses probably started to sprout up as soon as it began to rain. These were unscathed, defiant grasses springing up from the black char here and there. Orange rose hips hung from leafless rose bush branches like dangling ornaments. Red branches from a bush that I can no longer identify spread across the field in spiky tufts.

Aside from the marked change of the landscape’s color, the new smell was almost as prominent. It was a crisp, cool autumn morning. Woven into the distinctly autumnal smell was the charred grass and dirt, and rain. It smelled old to me.

When on the path surrounded by the black, it’s easy to imagine that it’s a vast area that was burned. But it’s only an illusion. The boundaries of the prairie are clearly delineated. Burn. Green. Even in a nature preserve (maybe even more so in a nature preserve) the land is carefully and deliberately managed. The scrubby, organic landscape is contained within a neat geometric shape with sharp corners.

As I walked through the prairie, I was reminded of the reason that the nature preserve exists: birds. The quiet was frequently punctuated by the cacophony of migrating birds. Many of the trails will be closed at the end of the month to protect their nesting areas. I wanted to see the arriving birds before leaving for the day; I could hear them from the prairie, but not see them except for a lone heron standing on the border of the burned field and the adjacent field of bright green new shoots.

Perhaps a mile from the prairie, a long raised wooden walkway meanders through thick forest with branches covered with long hanging mosses. The bird sounds grew louder as I approached its end at a lake. Coming out of the trees, I could finally see the Canada geese in the sky. Large clouds of them circled above the water like swarms of insects creating ever-changing patterns against the clouds. Eventually one of the flocks flew directly over me as it traced the perimeter of the lake from the sky. And then I felt ready to leave.

Tags: field burning, Finley, painting
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How Shea Hembrey Became 100 Artists

Posted on: October 6th, 2011 by Leah Wilson Read 2 COMMENTS & Join the Conversation

This is a new favorite TED Talk find. I’m feeling a tad bit envious of Shea Hembrey. Not because I wish I had done what he has, I don’t wish that, but because I love the way that he asked a question that was based on the frustration he felt with the contemporary art world (a frustration that I have felt oh-so-often!) and went about solving it with such gusto.

I love contemporary art, but I’m often really frustrated with the contemporary art world and the contemporary art scene. A few years ago, I spent months in Europe to see the major international art exhibitions that have the pulse of what is supposed to be going on in the art world. And I was struck by going to so many, one after the other, with some clarity of what it was that I was longing for. And I was longing for several things that I wasn’t getting, or not getting enough of. But two of the main things: one of it, I was longing for more work that was appealing to a broad public, that was accessible. And the second thing that I was longing for was some more exquisite craftsmanship and technique.

He thought about what he thought would make the perfect biennial. His rules were:

the three H’s which is head, heart and hands. And great art would have head: it would have interesting intellectual ideasand concepts.It would have heart in that it would have passionand heart and soul. And it would have hand in that it would be greatly crafted.

And then he created it. He created all of it — all 100 international artists in the biennial and all of the work that they created according to his criteria. Brilliant!

Shea’s bio:

Shea Hembrey was born in 1974. He grew up on a dirt road in rural Hickory Grove, Arkansas in a family of farmers, factory workers, hunters, trappers, musicians, and cockfighters.

He makes art by concentrating on a singular, defined conceptual project where the ideas direct what methods and media he uses. Research is key to all of his creative endeavors while he remains a prolific maker of things.

Though always focused on developing skills on his own, he has a varied formal art education. His nine years of studying art at university include a year spent studying Maori art in New Zealand and an MFA from Cornell University.

His studio is currently based in a sleepy town on the Delaware River in New Jersey.

Do you want to see more? I did. Check out Shea’s website.

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