The object isn’t to make art, it’s to be in that wonderful state which makes art inevitable. Robert Henri (Page 0)
Nothing in this book is known to be true. It’s a reflection on what I’ve noticed—Not facts so much as thoughts. Some ideas may resonate, others may not. A few may awaken an inner knowing you forgot you had. Use what’s helpful. Let go of the rest. (Page 0)
Each of these moments is an invitation to further inquiry: looking deeper, zooming out, or in. Opening possibilities for a new way of being. (Page 0)
To create is to bring something into existence that wasn’t there before. It could be a conversation, the solution to a problem, a note to a friend, the rearrangement of furniture in a room, a new route home to avoid a traffic jam. What you make doesn’t have to be witnessed, recorded, sold, or encased in glass for it to be a work of art. Through the ordinary state of being, we’re already creators in the most profound way, creating our experience of reality and composing the world we perceive. (Page 1)
To live as an artist is a way of being in the world. A way of perceiving. A practice of paying attention. Refining our sensitivity to tune in to the more subtle notes. Looking for what draws us in and what pushes us away. Noticing what feeling tones arise and where they lead. Attuned choice by attuned choice, your entire life is a form of self-expression. You exist as a creative being in a creative universe. A singular work of art. (Page 2)
Note: Self-expression
Look around you: there are so many remarkable accomplishments to appreciate. Each of these is humanity being true to itself, as a hummingbird is true to itself by building a nest, a peach tree by bearing fruit, and a nimbus cloud by producing rain. (Page 6)
How does the cloud know when to rain? How does the tree know when spring begins? How does the bird know when it’s time to build a new nest? (Page 6)
These rhythms are not set by us. We are all participating in a larger creative act we are not conducting. We are being conducted. The artist is on a cosmic timetable, just like all of nature. If you have an idea you’re excited about and you don’t bring it to life, it’s not uncommon for the idea to find its voice through another maker. This isn’t because the other artist stole your idea, but because the idea’s time has come. (Page 7)
Note: The idea’s time has come
We are all translators for messages the universe is broadcasting. (Page 7)
Many great artists first develop sensitive antennae not to create art but to protect themselves. They have to protect themselves because everything hurts more. They feel everything more deeply. (Page 7)
As children, we experience much less interference between receiving ideas and internalizing them. We accept new information with delight instead of making comparisons to what we already believe; we live in the moment rather than worrying about future consequences; we are spontaneous more than analytical; we are curious, not jaded. Even the most ordinary experiences in life are met with a sense of awe. Deep sadness and intense excitement can come within moments of each other. There’s no facade and no attachment to a story. (Page 8)
Note: No facade, no attachment
There’s a time for certain ideas to arrive, and they find a way to express themselves through us. (Page 11)
This content does not come from inside us. The Source is out there. A wisdom surrounding us, an inexhaustible offering that is always available. We either sense it, remember it, or tune in to it. Not only through our experiences. It may also be dreams, intuitions, subliminal fragments, or other ways still unknown by which the outside finds its way inside. To the mind, this material appears to come from within. But that’s an illusion. There are tiny fragments of the vastness of Source stored within us. These precious wisps arise from the unconscious like vapor, and condense to form a thought. An idea. (Page 14)
Note: Content
It may be helpful to think of Source as a cloud. Clouds never truly disappear. They change form. They turn into rain and become part of the ocean, and then evaporate and return to being clouds. The same is true of art. (Page 14)
Turning something from an idea into a reality can make it seem smaller. It changes from unearthly to earthly. The imagination has no limits. The physical world does. The work exists in both. (Page 17)
In most of our daily activities we choose the agenda and develop a strategy to achieve the goal at hand. We create the program. Awareness moves differently. The program is happening around us. The world is the doer and we are the witness. We have little or no control over the content. The gift of awareness allows us to notice what’s going on around and inside ourselves in the present moment. And to do so without attachment or involvement. We may observe bodily sensations, passing thoughts and feelings, sounds or visual cues, smells and tastes. Through detached noticing, awareness allows an observed flower to reveal more of itself without our intervention. This is true of all things. Awareness is not a state you force. There is little effort involved, though persistence is key. It’s something you actively allow to happen. It is a presence with, and acceptance of, what is happening in the eternal now. (Page 19)
Note: No force, little effort
As soon as you label an aspect of Source, you’re no longer noticing, you’re studying. This holds true of any thought that takes you out of presence with the object of your awareness, whether analysis or simply becoming aware that you’re aware. Analysis is a secondary function. The awareness happens first as a pure connection with the object of your attention. If something strikes me as interesting or beautiful, first I live that experience. Only afterward might I attempt to understand it. (Page 20)
Tags: blauw
Note: Understand afterwards
Though we can’t change what it is that we are noticing, we can change our ability to notice. We can expand our awareness and narrow it, experience it with our eyes open or closed. We can quiet our inside so we can perceive more on the outside, or quiet the outside so we can notice more of what’s happening inside. We can zoom in on something so closely it loses the features that make it what it appears to be, or zoom so far out it seems like something entirely new. (Page 20)
The universe is only as large as our perception of it. When we cultivate our awareness, we are expanding the universe. This expands the scope, not just of the material at our disposal to create from, but of the life we get to live. (Page 21)
Tags: roze
The ability to look deeply is the root of creativity. To see past the ordinary and mundane and get to what might otherwise be invisible. (Page 23)
Tags: roze
Information does not enter the vessel directly, like rain filling into a barrel. It is filtered in a unique way for each of us. (Page 25)
Note: Unique filter
As artists, we seek to restore our childlike perception: a more innocent state of wonder and appreciation not tethered to utility or survival. (Page 26)
artists, we want to hold these stories softly and find space for the vast amount of information that doesn’t fit easily within the limits of our belief system. (Page 26)
If we choose to share what we make, our work can recirculate and become source material for others. (Page 27)
Source makes available. The filter distills. The vessel receives. And often this happens beyond our control. (Page 27)
It is helpful to know this default system can be bypassed. With training, we can improve our interface with Source and radically expand the vessel’s ability to receive. (Page 27)
No matter what tools you use to create, the true instrument is you. And through you, the universe that surrounds us all comes into focus. (Page 29)
Though artists generally aren’t aware of it, that end work is a by-product of a greater desire. We aren’t creating to produce or sell material products. The act of creation is an attempt to enter a mysterious realm. A longing to transcend. (Page 31)
Art is our portal to the unseen world. (Page 31)
The practice of spirituality is a way of looking at a world where you’re not alone. There are deeper meanings behind the surface. The energy around you can be harnessed to elevate your work. You are part of something much larger than can be explained—a world of immense possibilities. (Page 32)
Note: No need to understand
When you’re working on a project, you may notice apparent coincidences appearing more often than randomness allows—almost as if there is another hand guiding yours in a certain direction. As if there is an inner knowing gently informing your movements. Faith allows you to trust the direction without needing to understand it. (Page 32)
If a piece of work, a fragment of consciousness, or an element of nature is somehow allowing us to access something bigger, that is its spiritual component made manifest. It awards us a glimpse of the unseen. (Page 33)
It’s not unusual for science to catch up to art, eventually. Nor is it unusual for art to catch up to the spiritual. (Page 35)
When looking for a solution to a creative problem, pay close attention to what’s happening around you. Look for clues pointing to new methods or ways to further develop current ideas. (Page 37)
These transmissions are subtle: they are ever-present, but they’re easy to miss. (Page 38)
Look for what you notice but no one else sees. (Page 41)
Note: Look, notice, see
In the wild, animals must narrow their field of vision to survive. A tight focus prevents distraction from critical needs. Food, Shelter, Predators, Procreation. For the artist, this reflexive action can be a hindrance. (Page 43)
[[sMalle focus om te overleven
A practice is the embodiment of an approach to a concept. This can support us in bringing about a desired state of mind. When we repeat the exercise of opening our senses to what is, we move closer to living in a continually open state. We build a habit. One where expanded awareness is our default way of being in the world. To deepen this practice is to embark on a more profound relationship with Source. As we reduce the interference of our filter, we become better able to recognize the rhythms and movements around us. This allows us to participate with them in a more harmonious way. (Page 43)
When we take notice of the cycles of the planet, and choose to live in accordance with its seasons, something remarkable happens. We become connected. (Page 44)
To support our practice, we might set up a daily schedule, where we engage in particular rituals at specific times every day or week. The gestures we perform don’t need to be grand. Small rituals can make a big difference. (Page 44)
The purpose of such exercises is not necessarily in the doing, just as the goal of meditation isn’t in the meditating. The purpose is to evolve the way we see the world when we’re not engaged in these acts. We are building the musculature of our psyche to more acutely tune in. This is so much of what the work is about. (Page 45)
Living life as an artist is a practice. You are either engaging in the practice or you’re not. It makes no sense to say you’re not good at it. It’s like saying, “I’m not good at being a monk.” You are either living as a monk or you’re not. We tend to think of the artist’s work as the output. The real work of the artist is a way of being in the world. (Page 47)
Because there’s an endless amount of data available to us and we have a limited bandwidth to conserve, we might consider carefully curating the quality of what we allow in. (Page 50)
The objective is not to learn to mimic greatness, but to calibrate our internal meter for greatness. So we can better make the thousands of choices that might ultimately lead to our own great work. (Page 50)
Of all the great works that we can experience, nature is the most absolute and enduring. (Page 51)
There is never a shortage of awe and inspiration to be found outdoors. (Page 51)
If we dedicated our lives solely to noticing changes in natural light and shadow as the hours pass, we would constantly discover something new. (Page 51)
If you’re picking colors based on a Pantone book, you’re limited to a certain number of choices. If you step out in nature, the palette is infinite. (Page 52)
Deepening our connection to nature will serve our spirit, and what serves our spirit invariably serves our artistic output. (Page 52)
The closer we can get to the natural world, the sooner we start to realize we are not separate. And that when we create, we are not just expressing our unique individuality, but our seamless connection to an infinite oneness. (Page 52)
The person who makes something today isn’t the same person who returns to the work tomorrow. (Page 57)
It’s common to believe that life is a series of external experiences. And that we must live an outwardly extraordinary life in order to have something to share. The experience of our inner world is often completely overlooked. (Page 60)
If we focus on what’s going on inside ourselves—sensations, emotions, the patterns of our thoughts—a wealth of material can be found. Our inner world is every bit as interesting, beautiful, and surprising as nature itself. It is, after all, born of nature. (Page 60)
When we go inside, we are processing what’s going on outside. We’re no longer separate. We’re connected. We are one. (Page 60)
When presented with new instrumental tracks for the first time, some vocalists record the first sounds out of their mouths, with no thought or preparation. Often they’ll sing random words or sounds that aren’t words at all. It isn’t uncommon, out of the gibberish, for a story to unfold or key phrases to appear. There’s no active attempt to write in this process. The work is being created on a subconscious level. The material exists hidden within. (Page 63)
There’s an abundant reservoir of high-quality information in our subconscious, and finding ways to access it can spark new material to draw from. (Page 64)
There’s great wisdom in transitional realms between wakefulness and sleep. Right before you fall asleep, what thoughts and ideas come to you? How do you feel when you wake from a dream? (Page 64)
We’re affected by our surroundings, and finding the best environment to create a clear channel is personal and to be tested. It also depends on your intention. Isolated places like a forest, a monastery, or a sailboat in the middle of the ocean are fine locations to receive direct transmissions from the universe. If instead you want to tune in to the collective consciousness, you might sit in a busy spot with people coming and going and experience Source as filtered through humanity. This secondhand approach is no less valid. (Page 69)
It’s helpful to view currents in the culture without feeling obligated to follow the direction of their flow. Instead, notice them in the same connected, detached way you might notice a warm wind. Let yourself move within it, yet not be of it. (Page 70)
Self-doubt lives in all of us. And while we may wish it gone, it is there to serve us. Flaws are human, and the attraction of art is the humanity held in it. If we were machinelike, the art wouldn’t resonate. It would be soulless. With life comes pain, insecurity, and fear. (Page 73)
We’re all different and we’re all imperfect, and the imperfections are what makes each of us and our work interesting. We create pieces reflective of who we are, and if insecurity is part of who we are, then our work will have a greater degree of truth in it as a result. (Page 73)
The making of art is not a competitive act. Our work is representative of the self. (Page 73)
Tags: blauw
The sensitivity that allows them to make the art is the same vulnerability that makes them more tender to being judged. (Page 74)
If you see tremendous beauty or tremendous pain where other people see little or nothing at all, you’re confronted with big feelings all the time. These emotions can be confusing and overwhelming. When those around you don’t see what you see and feel what you feel, this can lead to a sense of isolation and a general feeling of not belonging, of otherness. These charged emotions, powerful when expressed in the work, are the same dark clouds that beg to be numbed to allow sleep or to get out of bed and face the day in the morning. It’s a blessing and a curse. (Page 75)
While the emotional undercurrents of self-doubt can serve the art, they can also interfere with the creative process. Beginning a work, completing a work, and sharing a work—these are key moments where many of us become stuck. How do we move forward, considering the stories we tell ourselves? One of the best strategies is to lower the stakes. (Page 77)
We tend to think that what we’re making is the most important thing in our lives and that it’s going to define us for all eternity. Consider moving forward with the more accurate point of view that it’s a small work, a beginning. The mission is to complete the project so you can move on to the next. That next one is a stepping-stone to the following work. And so it continues in productive rhythm for the entirety of your creative life. (Page 77)
All art is a work in progress. (Page 78)
Tags: blauw
Oscar Wilde said that some things are too important to be taken seriously. Art is one of those things. Setting the bar low, especially to get started, frees you to play, explore, and test without attachment to results. This is not just a path to more supportive thoughts. Active play and experimentation until we’re happily surprised is how the best work reveals itself. (Page 78)
I was in a meeting with another artist who had just released a very successful album, but felt afraid to do more work and listed different reasons why she didn’t want to make music anymore. There are always good reasons not to continue. “It’s fine, you don’t have to make music ever again. There’s nothing wrong with that. Just stop if it’s not making you happy. It’s your choice.” As soon as I said this, her expression changed and she realized she would be happier creating than not creating. (Page 79)
By accepting self-doubt, rather than trying to eliminate or repress it, we lessen its energy and interference. (Page 80)
These statements are worlds apart, both in accuracy and in impact on the nervous system. Doubting yourself can lead to a sense of hopelessness, of not being inherently fit to take on the task at hand. All or nothing thinking is a nonstarter. (Page 80)
The imperfections you’re tempted to fix might prove to be what make the work great. And sometimes not. We rarely know what makes a piece great. No one can know. The most plausible reasons are theories at best. Why is beyond our comprehension. (Page 81)
In Japanese pottery, there’s an artful form of repair called kintsugi. When a piece of ceramic pottery breaks, rather than trying to restore it to its original condition, the artisan accentuates the fault by using gold to fill the crack. This beautifully draws attention to where the work was broken, creating a golden vein. Instead of the flaw diminishing the work, it becomes a focal point, an area of both physical and aesthetic strength. The scar also tells the story of the piece, chronicling its past experience. (Page 81)
Art creates a profound connection between the artist and the audience. Through that connection, both can heal. (Page 83)
Distraction is one of the best tools available to the artist when used skillfully. (Page 85)
When we reach an impasse at any point in the creative process, it can be helpful to step away from the project to create space and allow a solution to appear. (Page 86)
We might hold a problem to be solved lightly in the back of our consciousness instead of the front of our mind. This way, we can remain present with it over time while engaging in a simple, unrelated task. Examples include driving, walking, swimming, showering, washing dishes, dancing, or performing any activity we can accomplish on autopilot. (Page 86)
Perhaps this process of nonthinking thought allows us to access a different part of our brain. (Page 86)
Distraction is not procrastination. Procrastination consistently undermines our ability to make things. (Page 86)
Sometimes disengaging is the best way to engage. (Page 87)
Nothing begins with us. The more we pay attention, the more we begin to realize that all the work we ever do is a collaboration. It’s a collaboration with the art that’s come before you and the art that will come after. It’s also a collaboration with the world you’re living in. With the experiences you’ve had. With the tools you use. With the audience. And with who you are today. (Page 89)
The inspired-artist aspect of your self may be in conflict with the craftsperson aspect, disappointed that the craftsperson is unable to create the physical embodiment of the inspired artist’s vision. This is a common conflict for creators, since there is no direct conversion from abstract thought to the material world. The work is always an interpretation. (Page 89)
There are many different hats the artist wears, and creativity is an internal discussion between these aspects of self. (Page 90)
Note: Zelf...
The purpose of the work is to awaken something in you first, and then allow something to be awakened in others. (Page 90)
What’s considered art is simply an agreement. And none of it is true. (Page 91)
What is true is that you are never alone when you’re making art. You are in a constant dialogue with what is and what was, and the closer you can tune in to that discussion, the better you can serve the work before you. (Page 91)
Our thoughts, feelings, processes, and unconscious beliefs have an energy that is hidden in the work. This unseen, unmeasurable force gives each piece its magnetism. A completed project is only made up of our intention and our experiments around it. Remove intention and all that’s left is the ornamental shell. (Page 94)
Note: Truth. Intention
Though the artist may have a number of goals and motivations, there is only one intention. This is the grand gesture of the work. It is not an exercise of thought, a goal to be set, or a means of commodification. It is a truth that lives inside you. Through your living it, that truth becomes embedded in the work. If the work doesn’t represent who you are and what you’re living, how can it hold an energetic charge? (Page 94)
An intention is more than a conscious purpose, it’s the congruence of that purpose. It requires an alignment of all aspects of one’s self. Of conscious thought and unconscious beliefs, of capabilities and commitment, of actions when working and not. It’s a state of living in harmonic agreement with oneself. (Page 94)
Most creators think of themselves as the conductor of the orchestra. If we zoom out of our small view of reality, we function more as an instrumentalist in a much larger symphony the universe is orchestrating. We may not have a great understanding of what this magnum opus is because we only see the small part we play. (Page 95)
The bee, attracted by the scent of the flower, lands on one then another, inadvertently enabling reproduction. Should the bee go extinct, not just flowers but birds, small mammals, and humans would likely also cease to exist. It’s fair to assume that the bee doesn’t know its role in this interconnected puzzle and in preserving the balance of nature. The bee is simply being. (Page 95)
Rarely if ever do we know the grand intention, yet if we surrender to the creative impulse, our singular piece of the puzzle takes its proper shape. Intention is all there is. The work is just a reminder. (Page 96)
Note: Being
A rule is any guiding principle or creative criterion. It might exist within the artist, the genre, or the culture. Rules, by their nature, are limitations. The laws of math and science are different from the rules we are looking at here. Those laws describe precise relationships in the physical world, which we know to be true by testing them against the world itself. The rules artists learn are different. They are assumptions, not absolutes. They describe a goal or method for short-term or long-term results. They are there to be tested. And they are only of value as long as they are helpful. They are not laws of nature. (Page 97)
Rules direct us to average behaviors. If we’re aiming to create works that are exceptional, most rules don’t apply. (Page 98)
Note: Singular perspective
As soon as a convention is established, the most interesting work would likely be the one that doesn’t follow it. The reason to make art is to innovate and self-express, show something new, share what’s inside, and communicate your singular perspective. (Page 98)
Art is confrontation. It widens the audience’s reality, allowing them to glimpse life through a different window. One with the potential for a glorious new view. (Page 98)
It’s a healthy practice to approach our work with as few accepted rules, starting points, and limitations as possible. (Page 99)
Based solely on the tools selected, you’ve already exponentially narrowed what’s possible, before a single drop of paint has made contact with the canvas. (Page 99)
As soon as you use a label to describe what you’re working on, there’s a temptation to conform to its rules. (Page 100)
The world isn’t waiting for more of the same. (Page 100)
Often, the most innovative ideas come from those who master the rules to such a degree that they can see past them or from those who never learned them at all. (Page 100)
The most deceptive rules are not the ones we can see, but the ones we can’t. These can be found hiding deeper in the mind, often unnoticed, just beyond our awareness. (Page 100)
Holding every rule as breakable is a healthy way to live as an artist. (Page 102)
For any rules you accept of what you can and cannot do as an artist . . . of what your voice is and isn’t . . . of what’s required to do the work and what you don’t need . . . it would be worthwhile to try the opposite. (Page 107)
Think of a rule as an imbalance. Darkness and light are only meaningful in relationship with each other. (Page 108)
Note: Leverage
Once you identify your position, you can move to the opposite side to find balance or go further out along the limb you’re on, creating more leverage. For every rule followed, examine the possibility that the opposite might be similarly interesting. Not necessarily better, just different. (Page 108)
When listening, there is only now. (Page 109)
In Buddhist practice, a bell is rung as part of the ritual. The sound instantly pulls the participant into the present moment. It’s a small reminder to wake up. (Page 109)
Many of us experience life as if we’re taking it in through a pair of headphones. We strip away the full register. (Page 110)
When you practice listening with the whole self, you expand the scope of your consciousness to include vast amounts of information otherwise missed, and discover more material to feed your art habit. (Page 110)
When the listener is totally present, the speaker often communicates differently. Most people aren’t used to being fully heard, and it can be jarring for them. (Page 111)
Formulating an opinion is not listening. Neither is preparing a response, or defending our position or attacking another’s. To listen impatiently is to hear nothing at all. Listening is suspending disbelief. We are openly receiving. Paying attention with no preconceived ideas. (Page 111)
The more perspectives we can learn to see, the greater our understanding becomes. Our filter can begin to more accurately approach what truly is, rather than a narrow sliver interpreted through our bias. (Page 112)
Note: Nieuwsbrief
Regardless of the type of art you’re making, listening opens possibilities. It allows you to see a bigger world. Many of our beliefs were learned before we had a choice in what we were taught. Some of them might go back generations and may no longer apply. Some may never have applied. Listening, then, is not just awareness. It’s freedom from accepted limitations. (Page 112)
There are no shortcuts. The lottery winner isn’t ultimately happy after their sudden change of fortune. The home built hastily rarely survives the first storm. The single-sentence summary of a book or news event is no substitute for the full story. (Page 113)
The artist actively works to experience life slowly, and then to re-experience the same thing anew. To read slowly, and to read and read again. (Page 114)
Note: Deeper
I might read a paragraph that inspires a thought, and while my eyes continue moving across the page in the physical act of reading, my mind may still be lost in the previous idea. I’m not taking in information anymore. When I realize this, I return to the last paragraph I can recall and start reading from there again. Sometimes it’s three or four pages back. (Page 114)
Re-reading even a well-understood paragraph or page can be revelatory. (Page 114)
Consider how different your experience of the world might be if you engaged in every activity with the attention you might give to landing a plane. (Page 114)
There are those who approach the opportunities of each day like crossing items off a to-do list instead of truly engaging and participating with all of themselves. Our continual quest for efficiency discourages looking too deeply. The pressure to deliver doesn’t grant us time to consider all possibilities. Yet it’s through deliberate action and repetition that we gain deeper insight. (Page 114)
Patience is required for the nuanced development of your craft. Patience is required for taking in information in the most faithful way possible. Patience is required for crafting a work that resonates and contains all that we have to offer. Every phase of an artist’s work and life benefits from cultivating this achievable habit. Patience is developed much like awareness. Through an acceptance of what is. (Page 115)
Impatience is an argument with reality. (Page 115)
When it comes to the creative process, patience is accepting that the majority of the work we do is out of our control. We can’t force greatness to happen. All we can do is invite it in and await it actively. (Page 115)
If we remove time from the equation of a work’s development, what we’re left with is patience. Not just for the development of the work, but for the development of the artist as a whole. (Page 116)
To see what no human has seen before, to know what no human has known before, to create as no human has created before, it may be necessary to see as if through eyes that have never seen, know through a mind that has never thought, create with hands that have never been trained. This is beginner’s mind—one of the most difficult states of being to dwell in for an artist, precisely because it involves letting go of what our experiences have taught us. (Page 120)
The impossible only becomes accessible when experience has not taught us limits. (Page 120)
Of all the explanations of the Ramones, the most apt may be: innovation through ignorance. (Page 121)
Experience provides wisdom to draw from, but it tempers the power of naivete. (Page 121)
Animals, like children, don’t have a hard time making a decision. They act out of innate instinct, not learned behavior. This primitive force packs an ancient wisdom that science has yet to catch up with. (Page 122)
For children, each moment in time is all there is. No future, no past. I want it now, I’m hungry, I’m tired. All pure authenticity. The great artists throughout history are the ones able to maintain this childlike enthusiasm and exuberance naturally. (Page 122)
For one of the most loved singer-songwriters of all time, if inspiration comes through, it takes precedence over other obligations. His friends and family understand that in the middle of a meal, conversation, or event, if a song calls, he’ll exit the scene and tend to it, without explanation. (Page 122)
A child has no set of premises it relies on to make sense of the world. It may serve you to do the same. (Page 123)
Strip away the labels. Now how do you see the world? (Page 123)
Try to experience everything as if for the first time. (Page 123)
As artists, we aim to live in a way in which we see the extraordinary hidden in the seemingly mundane. (Page 123)
Talent is the ability to let ideas manifest themselves through you. (Page 125)
Inspiration It appears in a moment. An immaculate conception. A divine flash of light. An idea that would otherwise require labor to unfold suddenly blooms in a single inhalation. What defines inspiration is the quality and quantity of the download. At a speed so instantaneous, it seems impossible to process. Inspiration is the rocket fuel powering our work. It is a universal conversation we yearn to be part of. The word comes from the Latin—inspirare, meaning to breathe in or blow into. For the lungs to draw in air, they must first be emptied. For the mind to draw inspiration, it wants space to welcome the new. The universe seeks balance. Through this absence, you are inviting energy in. (Page 127)
Breath itself is a potent vehicle to calm our thoughts, create space, and tune in. It cannot guarantee that inspiration will come, though the vacancy may draw the muse in to play. (Page 128)
Note: Do not rely on inspiration
Taken more spiritually, inspiration means to breathe life into. An ancient interpretation defines it as the immediate influence of the divine. For the artist, inspiration is a breath of creative force drawn in instantly from outside of our small selves. (Page 128)
When inspiration does arrive, it is invariably energizing. But it is not something to rely on. An artistic life cannot be built solely around waiting. Inspiration is out of our control and can prove hard to find. Effort is required and invitations are to be extended. In its absence, we may work on other areas of the project independent of this cosmic transmission. (Page 128)
To vary your inspiration, consider varying your inputs. (Page 129)
Most of what we see in the world holds the potential to inspire astonishment if looked at from a less jaded perspective. (Page 129)
Ride the wave as long as it can be ridden. If you are fortunate enough to experience the strike of inspiration, take full advantage of the access. Remain in the energy of this rarefied moment for as long as it lasts. When flowing, keep going. (Page 130)
The task of the artist is simply to recognize the transmission and stay with it in gratitude, until it truly runs its course. In terms of priority, inspiration comes first. You come next. The audience comes last. (Page 130)
John Lennon once advised that if you start a song, write it through to the end in that sitting. The initial inspiration has a vitality in it that can carry you through the whole piece. Don’t be concerned if some of the parts are not yet all they can be. Get through a rough draft. A full, imperfect version is generally more helpful than a seemingly perfect fragment. (Page 130)
When an idea forms, or a hook is written, we may feel that we’ve cracked the code and the rest will take care of itself. If we step away and let that initial spark fade, we may return to find it’s not so easy to rekindle. Think of inspiration as a force not immune to the laws of entropy. (Page 131)
Each habit might seem small, but added together, they have an exponential effect on performance. Just one habit, at the top of any field, can be enough to give an edge over the competition. (Page 134)
The goal was immaculate performance. Wooden often said the only person you’re ever competing against is yourself. The rest is out of your control. (Page 135)
Good habits create good art. The way we do anything is the way we do everything. (Page 135)
Discipline and freedom seem like opposites. In reality, they are partners. Discipline is not a lack of freedom, it is a harmonious relationship with time. Managing your schedule and daily habits well is a necessary component to free up the practical and creative capacity to make great art. It could even be said that a focused efficiency in life is more important than one in work. Approaching the practical aspects of your day with military precision allows the artistic windows to be opened in childlike freedom. (Page 135)
It’s helpful to set scheduled office hours, or uninterrupted periods of joyful play that allow your imagination to soar. (Page 136)
Find the sustainable rituals that best support your work. If you set a routine that is oppressive, you’ll likely find excuses not to show up. It’s in the interest of your art to create an easily achievable schedule to start with. (Page 136)
If you commit to working for half an hour a day, something good can happen that generates momentum. You may then look at the clock and realize you’ve been working for two hours. The option is always open to extend your creative hours once the habit is formed. (Page 136)
Put the decision making into the work, not into when to work. (Page 137)
Limit your practical choices to free your creative imagination. (Page 137)
Thoughts and habits not conducive to the work: Believing you’re not good enough. Feeling you don’t have the energy it takes. Mistaking adopted rules for absolute truths. Not wanting to do the work (laziness). Not taking the work to its highest expression (settling). Having goals so ambitious that you can’t begin. Thinking you can only do your best work in certain conditions. Requiring specific tools or equipment to do the work. Abandoning a project as soon as it gets difficult. Feeling like you need permission to start or move forward. Letting a perceived need for funding, equipment, or support get in the way. Having too many ideas and not knowing where to start. Never finishing projects. Blaming circumstances or other people for interfering with your process. Romanticizing negative behaviors or addictions. Believing a certain mood or state is necessary to do your best work. Prioritizing other activities and responsibilities over your commitment to making art. Distractibility and procrastination. Impatience. Thinking anything that’s out of your control is in your way. (Page 139)
Create an environment where you’re free to express what you’re afraid to express. (Page 141)
In the first phase of the creative process, we are to be completely open, collecting anything we find of interest. We can call this the Seed phase. We’re searching for potential starting points that, with love and care, can grow into something beautiful. At this stage, we are not comparing them to find the best seed. We simply gather them. (Page 143)
Note: Gather
Collecting seeds typically doesn’t involve a tremendous amount of effort. It’s more a receiving of a transmission. A noticing. (Page 144)
The artist casts a line to the universe. We don’t get to choose when a noticing or inspiration comes. We can only be there to receive it. (Page 144)
Collecting seeds is best approached with active awareness and boundless curiosity. It cannot be muscled, though perhaps it can be willed. (Page 144)
The appropriate seed will reveal itself over time. (Page 145)
Note: Weeks or months
Placing too much emphasis on a seed or dismissing it prematurely can interfere with its natural growth. (Page 145)
The temptation to insert too much of yourself in this first phase can undermine the entire enterprise. Be wary of taking shortcuts or crossing items off your list too quickly. (Page 145)
Collect many seeds and then, over time, look back and see which ones resonate. (Page 145)
It’s generally preferable to accumulate several weeks’ or months’ worth of ideas and then choose which of them to focus on, instead of following an urge or obligation to rush to the finish line with what is in front of us today. (Page 145)
When we make assumptions about what seeds won’t work or may not fit with what we believe to be our artistic identity, we may be prevented from growing as creators. (Page 145)
The work reveals itself as you go. (Page 147)
Fueled by the initial hit of excitement at discovering a starting point, we play with different combinations and possibilities to see if any of them reveal how the seed wants to develop. Think of this as a search for life. We’re looking to see if we can get the seeds to take root and sprout a stem. (Page 149)
Note: Seed Sprout
In this phase, we are not looking at which iteration progresses the quickest or furthest, but which holds the most promise. We focus on the flourishing and wait to prune. (Page 150)
Editing prematurely can close off routes that might lead to beautiful vistas previously unseen. (Page 150)
Note: Do not edit prematurely
In the Experimentation phase, conclusions are stumbled upon. They surprise or challenge us more often than they fulfill our expectations. (Page 151)
Note: Revelation
Consider how many innovations that might have changed the world have been lost because someone was so focused on their goal, they missed the revelation right in front of them. (Page 151)
The heart of experiment is mystery. (Page 151)
Allow the seed to follow its own path toward the sun. The time to discriminate will come later. For now, allow space for magic to enter. (Page 151)
If a seed does not seem to be developing or responding, consider storing it rather than discarding it. (Page 152)
Note: Shift
In nature, some seeds lie dormant in anticipation of the season most conducive to their growth. This is true of art as well. There are ideas whose time has not yet come. Or perhaps their time has come, but you are not yet ready to engage with them. (Page 152)
Some seeds are ready to germinate instantaneously. You may start experimenting and find yourself completing the work and being pleased with the result. Or you may get halfway through the project, then feel unsure where it wants to go. As we lose enthusiasm, we often continue to labor on a seed, believing that the work has to turn out for the better because we’ve invested so much time in it. If the energy continues to drop, it does not necessarily mean that the seed is bad. We just may not have found the right experiment for it. Perhaps we need to step away for a time and shift perspective. (Page 152)
If you know what you want to do and you do it, that’s the work of a craftsman. If you begin with a question and use it to guide an adventure of discovery, that’s the work of the artist. (Page 153)
How do we know when an idea is flourishing? Often the most accurate signposts are emotional, not intellectual. (Page 153)
Excitement tends to be the best barometer for selecting which seeds to focus on. When something interesting starts to come together, it arouses delight. It’s an energizing feeling of wanting more. A feeling of leaning forward. Follow that energy. During the Experimentation phase, we are paying attention to this natural reaction of enthrallment in the body. There is a time for the head work of analysis, but not yet. (Page 153)
If two ideas feel somewhat equal in weight, and one has clear potential to turn into something beautiful and the other shows less potential but seems more interesting, feel free to follow your interest. Base decisions on the internal feeling of being moved and notice what holds your interest. This will always be in the greatest service of the work. (Page 154)
Failure is the information you need to get where you’re going. (Page 155)
There is a gap between imagination and reality. An idea might seem brilliant in our mind. But once employed, it might not work at all. Another might seem dreary at first. Then, upon execution, it might be exactly what’s called for. (Page 157)
To dismiss an idea because it doesn’t work in your mind is to do a disservice to the art. (Page 158)
The only way to truly know if any idea works is to test it. (Page 158)
This method becomes especially useful in group efforts. Often when working with others, different ideas are put forward and end up in competition. Based on experience, we may believe we can see what each person is imagining and what the result will be. It’s impossible, though, to know exactly what someone else is thinking. And if we can’t predict how our own ideas will work—and we can’t!—how can we draw conclusions about what someone else imagines? (Page 158)
Instead of talking through different solutions to work out which is best, take it out of the realm of the verbal. To truly weigh choices, it’s necessary to bring them into the physical world. Have them acted out, played out, or built into a model. Descriptions do not do ideas justice. (Page 158)
We want to set up an environment where the decision making occurs free of the misguiding force of persuasion. Persuasion leads to mediocrity. To be evaluated, ideas have to be seen, heard, tasted, or touched. (Page 158)
Give yourself permission to be wrong and experience the joy of being surprised. (Page 159)
Note: Mediocrity
When working through ways of solving a puzzle, there are no mistakes. Each unsuccessful solution gets you closer to one that works. (Page 159)
Once a seed’s code has been cracked, and its true form deciphered, the process shifts. We are no longer in the unbounded mode of discovery. A clear sense of direction has arisen. Often unbeknownst to us, we find ourselves in the Craft phase. Now comes the labor of building. (Page 163)
In some ways, the Craft phase is one of the least glamorous parts of the artist’s job. There is creativity involved, but it often carries less of the magic of exploration and more of the labor of brick-laying. This is the point in the journey where some struggle to carry on. For now, we need to look away from the open field and turn toward a winding staircase a hundred stories tall. A long, precarious climb lies ahead. We may be tempted to turn back and chase the thrill of feeling the light bulb flicker on above our heads. But the first two phases have little purpose or meaning on their own. Art may only exist, and the artist may only evolve, by completing the work. (Page 164)
Note: Completing
How do we decide which experiment to craft? We continue to follow hints of excitement. (Page 164)
If several directions seem captivating, consider crafting more than one experiment at a time. Working on several often brings about a healthy sense of detachment. (Page 164)
When solely focused on one, it’s easy to get tunnel vision. While it may appear a project’s moving in the right direction, we are too closely entwined with it to truly know. Stepping away and returning with fresh eyes brings clearer insight into next steps. Switching to other projects will engage different muscles and patterns of thinking. These may shed light on paths otherwise unseen. And this may happen over the course of days, weeks, months, or years. Even in a single work session, moving between multiple projects can be helpful. There are also times when a single seed has so much power that you choose to focus on it exclusively, and that is your choice to make. In the Experimentation phase, we planted the seed, watered it, and gave the resulting plant time to grow in the sun. We let nature take its course. Now, in this third phase, we are bringing ourselves to the project to see what we can offer. This is one reason the boundary between the Experimentation and the Craft phases isn’t a linear progression. We often move back and forth between the two, because sometimes what we add isn’t as good as what nature is bringing. When we realize this, we stop and go back to where nature left off. Whereas the Experimentation phase is about what the seed has to offer, now we are applying our filter. Reviewing the totality of our experience in the world and searching for connections: What does this remind us of, what can we measure it against, what does it relate to that we’ve noticed over the course of our lives? In this phase, we begin with a project that has naturally developed. We recognize potential in it. And we see what we can add, take away, or combine to further develop it. (Page 164)
The Craft phase is not just a building up. It is also a breaking down. The goal of developing the work can be accomplished through a pruning process of small cuts. (Page 166)
There are some artists whose focus is more on formalizing an idea than executing it. And in the case of some projects, outsourcing the Craft phase is what’s called for. Many of Andy Warhol’s paintings were done by other artists and by machines, while he supplied the ideas and retained authorship. Some famous California rock bands of the ’60s didn’t play on their own albums. And some prolific authors just invent characters and story lines, and leave it to other writers to fill out the prose. (Page 166)
When treated like the earlier phases, with no boundaries or time constraints, the Craft phase may extend longer than necessary. (Page 169)
Note: Data plus vision
Once enough data is collected, and the vision is clear, it can be helpful to set deadlines for completion. (Page 169)
In the Craft phase, deadlines are suggested completion dates rather than set in stone. There is still an element of surprise and exploration throughout our execution, and it’s possible to find ourselves at any moment back in the Experimentation phase. While crafting, an artist might succumb to outside pressure to set a fixed release date for their project. Preparations are made. Outsiders are notified. Then sometimes, as we work diligently toward the final stage, an entirely new and preferable direction might appear. But the artist is left without the time to pursue it. And this leads to a compromised result. The artist’s goal is not merely to produce, but to make the finest work they are capable of. (Page 170)
The business thinks in terms of quarterly earnings and production schedules. The artist thinks in terms of timeless excellence. (Page 170)
While crafting, make deadlines for your own motivation, not necessarily to be shared with others unless it helps with accountability. (Page 170)
Crafting contains a paradox. To create our best work, we are patient and avoid rushing the process, while at the same time we work quickly without delay. (Page 171)
By remaining too long in this phase, many pitfalls may arise. One is disconnection. If an artist is creating a beautiful work, and keeps endlessly crafting it beyond the need, sometimes they suddenly want to start all over. This can be because they have changed or the times have changed. (Page 171)
Art is a reflection of the artist’s inner and outer world during the period of creation. Extending the period complicates the artist’s ability to capture a state of being. (Page 171)
Demo-itis happens when the artist has clung too tightly, for too long, to their first draft. (Page 171)
When we become overly attached to a premature version of the work, we do a disservice to the project’s potential. (Page 172)
To avoid demo-itis, there is a simple technique. Unless actively working to make something better, avoid listening to it, reading it, playing it, looking at it, or showing it to friends. (Page 172)
By not accepting the work-in-progress as the standard version, we leave room for growth, change, and development to continue. (Page 172)
Another impediment some come across is that their vision for the work exceeds their ability to manifest it. (Page 172)
Falling short of grander visions might actually put the work exactly where it wants to be. Do not let the scale of your imagination get in the way of executing a more practical version of your project. We may come to realize that this version is better than the initial, seemingly impossible vision. (Page 173)
Note: Momentum
When you’re on a roll in the Craft phase, work toward a full first draft. Maintain the momentum. If you reach a section of the work that gives you trouble, instead of letting this blockage stop you, work around it. Although your instinct may be to create sequentially, bypass the section where you’re stuck, complete the other parts, then come back to it. Sometimes solutions to these difficult pieces will reveal themselves once the overall context has emerged. (Page 173)
If you finish the rest of the draft and return to the portion you skipped, it feels more easily achievable when there’s only 5 or 10 percent of a project left to complete. With the end in sight, it’s easier to feel motivated to finish. (Page 174)
Note: Puzzel
If you’re holding a center puzzle piece in your hand and staring at an empty tabletop, it’s difficult to determine where to place it. If all of the puzzle is complete except for that one piece, then you know exactly where it goes. The same is generally true of art. The more of the work you can see, the easier it becomes to gracefully place the final details clearly where they belong. (Page 174)
The goal of art isn’t to attain perfection. The goal is to share who we are. And how we see the world. (Page 177)
Note: Already
Artists allow us to see what we are unable to see, but somehow already know. (Page 177)
Carl Rogers said, “The personal is the universal.” The personal is what makes art matter. Our point of view, not our drawing skills or musical virtuosity or ability to tell a story. (Page 178)
Note: Hidden
Our point of view doesn’t have to be coherent. And it’s rarely simple. We may have different, and sometimes contradictory, points of view across a variety of topics. Aiming to narrow it all down to one elegant expression is unrealistic and limiting. (Page 178)
When making art, we create a mirror in which someone may see their own hidden reflection. (Page 178)
A point of view is different from having a point. A point is an idea intentionally expressed. A point of view is the perspective—conscious and unconscious—through which the work emerges. (Page 178)
What causes us to notice a piece of art is rarely the point being made. We are drawn to the way an artist’s filter refracts ideas, not to the ideas themselves. (Page 179)
It’s of no use to know your point of view. It’s already there, working in the background, ever evolving. Efforts to portray point of view on purpose often lead to a false representation. We hold on to stories about our perspective that are inaccurate and limiting. (Page 179)
We don’t need to make a point of making a point. It will appear when it appears. The true point is already made in the innocent act of perception and creation. (Page 179)
If your work speaks to them, it is of no consequence if you are heard and understood. (Page 180)
Most people aren’t interested in being told what to think or feel. (Page 180)
Great art opens a conversation rather than closing it. And often this conversation is started by accident. (Page 180)
Most human beings like to fit in. We adapt not only to the evolving flow of material coming through us, but the boundaries and templates of the culture around us. (Page 180)
Those of us choosing to live as artists embrace our filter as a gift. (Page 180)
There are countless examples of imitation turning into legitimate innovation. (Page 181)
It’s impossible to imitate another artist’s point of view. We can only swim in the same waters. So feel free to copy the works that inspire you on the road to finding your own voice. It’s a time-tested tradition. (Page 181)
There are times during the Craft phase when you hit a wall and the work isn’t getting any better. Before stepping away from the piece, it’s worth finding a way to break the sameness and refresh your excitement in the work, as if engaging with it for the first time. (Page 183)
Small Steps To create movement for a musician who was blocked, we offered him a small task: write just one line every day. (Page 184)
Change the Environment If we’re looking for a performance of a different nature, it can help to change an element of the environment. Turning off the lights and playing in the dark can create a shift in consciousness and break the chain of sameness from performance to performance. (Page 184)
Change the Stakes Besides changing the external environment, you can also change the inner. If a band imagines that this is the last time they’ll ever play a particular song, they’re likely to perform it differently than if it’s just another take. (Page 184)
Invite an Audience When an artist thrives on being in front of a crowd, we may bring in several people to watch a session. Being observed changes how an artist acts. Even if the audience consists only of one person who isn’t part of the project, that can be enough. (Page 185)
Change the Context There are times when a singer doesn’t connect with a song, like an actor whose line reading falls flat. It can be helpful to create a new meaning or an additional backstory to a song’s lyrics. (Page 185)
Alter the Perspective A technique we sometimes use in the studio is to turn up the volume on the headphones extremely loud. When every sound explodes in your ears, there’s a natural tendency to play much quieter to restore the balance. It’s a forced perspective change, and can bring out a very delicate performance. (Page 186)
Whatever the situation, if a task is challenging to accomplish, there’s often a way to design the surroundings to naturally encourage the performance you’re striving for. (Page 186)
Many artists have a perceived idea of what’s in their wheelhouse, and that’s ultimately a limitation. So it’s helpful to step out of yourself and into someone else’s wheelhouse. (Page 188)
Thinking of a specific image or story, or imagining that you’re scoring a film and then starting to play, will often bring a stronger direction to a meandering tune. (Page 188)
The general principle is to be protective and limit people you’re working with from experiencing things that could interfere with their creative process. Limit the information to the barest of sketches. If you want creators to bring all of themselves to something, give them the most freedom to create. (Page 189)
The intention is to establish different perspectives or conditions, and see where you or your collaborators end up. (Page 190)
The purpose is to set up a structure to go beyond your usual method and find new ways forward. (Page 190)
As with the other stages of the creative act, the Completion phase isn’t a clear line you cross in a forward journey. (Page 192)
Once you feel a project is close to completion, it can be helpful to open the work to other perspectives. The primary aim is not to receive notes or opinions. This is your work, your expression. You are the only audience that matters. The intention is for you to experience the work anew. (Page 192)
We interrogate ourselves when we offer our work up to others. (Page 193)
If someone chooses to share feedback, listen to understand the person, not the work. People will tell you more about themselves than about the art when giving feedback. We each see a unique world. (Page 193)
Criticism allows us to engage with our work in a new way. We may agree or we may double down on our original instincts. (Page 193)
As you collect feedback, the solutions offered may not always seem helpful. Before discarding them, take a moment to see if they’re pointing to an underlying problem you hadn’t noticed. (Page 194)
If you’ve truly created an innovative work, it’s likely to alienate as many people as it attracts. The best art divides the audience. If everyone likes it, you probably haven’t gone far enough. In the end, you are the only one who has to love it. This work is for you. (Page 194)
When is the work done? There is no formula or method for finding this answer. It is an intuition: The work is done when you feel it is. (Page 194)
Although we avoid deadlines early in the process, in the Completion phase, a due date could help bring time into focus and support you in completing the work. (Page 194)
Art doesn’t get made on the clock. But it can get finished on the clock. (Page 195)
This fear of permanence is common beyond art. It is known as commitment phobia. (Page 195)
When you believe the work before you is the single piece that will forever define you, it’s difficult to let it go. (Page 195)
Releasing a work into the world becomes easier when we remember that each piece can never be a total reflection of us, only a reflection of who we are in this moment. (Page 195)
Hanging on to your work is like spending years writing the same entry in a diary. (Page 196)
How many pages will be left empty because your process was dampened by doubt and deliberation? (Page 196)
When you and the work are in sync, there’s a time to put it out and move on. (Page 196)
Concerns about releasing a work into the world may be rooted in deeper anxieties. It could be a fear of being judged, misunderstood, ignored, or disliked. (Page 196)
Part of the process of letting go is releasing any thoughts of how you or your piece will be received. When making art, the audience comes last. Let’s not consider how a piece will be received or our release strategy until the work is finished and we love it. This is different from a work being perfect. (Page 197)
There are forever changes to be made. There is no right version. Every work of art is simply an iteration. (Page 197)
Avoid overthinking. When you’re happy with the work and you’re moved to share it with a friend, it might be time to share it with the world as well. (Page 197)
This final phase is a fertile time to plant a new crop of seeds. The excitement of what’s coming next can generate the vital energy needed to bring the current work to its close. (Page 197)
A river of material flows through us. When we share our works and our ideas, they are replenished. If we block the flow by holding them all inside, the river cannot run and new ideas are slow to appear. (Page 201)
If we live in a mindset of scarcity, we hoard great ideas. (Page 201)
When we use our material, new content comes through. And the more we share, the more our skills improve. (Page 201)
If each piece is approached as our life’s defining work, we revise and overwrite endlessly, aiming for the unrealistic ideal of perfection. (Page 202)
no one diary entry is our life story. (Page 202)
Our objective is to be free to close one chapter and move on to the next, and to continue that process for as long as it pleases us. (Page 203)
Your old work isn’t better than your new work. And your new work isn’t better than the old. (Page 203)
To assume there was a golden period and you’re past it is only true if you accept that premise. (Page 203)
The work begins to look like an old photo instead of a mirror image. (Page 203)
In their nature, many artists lean toward one of two categories: Experimenters or Finishers. (Page 205)
Experimenters might benefit from taking an aspect of the work through to completion. It might be a drawing, a song, or the chapter of a book. Even making one foundational decision from which to build can help. Take the example of an album. If you’re a musician struggling with ten songs, narrow your focus to two. When we make the task more manageable and focused, a change occurs. And completing even a small segment builds confidence. (Page 206)
Complete as many elements of the project as you can without getting hung up. It’s much easier to circle back once the workload is reduced. (Page 206)
Whether imposed by design or by necessity, it’s helpful to see limitations as opportunities. (Page 207)
The imposition of rules is most valuable for an artist who has already made some work. (Page 210)
Whatever you choose, decide on a framework that breaks your normal rhythm and see where it leads. Just by the nature of the limitations you set, the work will be different from what you’ve done before. It is of little importance whether it’s better. The purpose is self-discovery. (Page 210)
In exploring new horizons, you may very well lose some fans. New fans may also appear. Whatever the case, the decision to limit your work to the familiar is a disservice to both yourself and your audience. (Page 211)
A rule is a way of structuring awareness. (Page 213)
If your project is purely artistic, then redirect your inner voice to focus on pure creative intent. (Page 216)
With the objective of simply doing great work, a ripple effect occurs. A bar is set for everything you do, which may not only lift your work to new heights, but raise the vibration of your entire life. (Page 217)
Success occurs in the privacy of the soul. (Page 219)
To move forward is an aspect of success. (Page 219)
Whatever comes after this quiet feeling of accomplishment is subject to market conditions. Conditions beyond us. (Page 219)
Most variables are completely out of our control. (Page 220)
The only ones we can control are doing our best work, sharing it, starting the next, and not looking back. (Page 220)
A loyal audience can begin to feel like a prison. (Page 221)
Whenever an instinct toward movement and evolution arises, it’s wise to listen to it. (Page 221)
If we can tune in to the idea of making things and sharing them without being attached to the outcome, the work is more likely to arrive in its truest form. (Page 223)
I wasn’t expecting that plot twist. I wonder what’s going to happen to our hero next. (Page 226)
There’s always a next scene, and that next scene may be one of great beauty and fulfillment. The hard times were the required setup to allow these new possibilities to come into being. (Page 226)
The outcome is not the outcome. The darkness is not an end point, nor is the daylight. They live in a continually unfolding, mutually dependent cycle. Neither is bad or good. They simply exist. (Page 226)
This practice—of never assuming an experience you have is the whole story—will support you in a life of open possibility and equanimity. (Page 226)
Zoom in and obsess. Zoom out and observe. We get to choose. (Page 226)
Art has the power to snap us out of our transfixion, open our minds to what’s possible, and reconnect with the eternal energy that moves through all things. (Page 227)
The ecstatic is our compass, pointing to our true north. It arises genuinely in the process of creation. You’re working and struggling, and suddenly you notice a shift. A revelation. (Page 230)
It can arise from even the most seemingly mundane detail. The change of a word in a sentence. Instantly, the passage morphs from nonsense to poetry, and everything falls into place. An artist will be in the throes of creation, and the work may seem unremarkable for a while. Suddenly, a shift occurs or a moment is revealed, and the same piece now seems extraordinary. So little was needed to make the leap from mediocrity to greatness. The leap can’t always be understood, but when it happens, it’s clear and enlivening. (Page 230)
This feeling is the affirmation that you’re on the right path. It is a nudge to keep going. A sign that you’re working in the direction of greatness, that there is deeper truth in what you’re doing. It’s grounded in something worthy. This epiphany is the heart of creativity. It’s something we feel in our whole body. It causes us to snap to attention and quicken our heartbeat, or to laugh in surprise. (Page 231)
The nature of the ecstatic is animalistic. A visceral, body-centered reaction, not a cerebral one. It doesn’t have to make sense. It is not meant to be understood. It is there to guide us. (Page 231)
Part of the beauty of creation is that we can surprise ourselves, and make something greater than we’re capable of understanding at the time, if we ever can. (Page 231)
The depth of our work doesn’t necessarily matter. Though when you follow your instinctual bodily reactions, you’ll often arrive at more profound places than you otherwise would. (Page 232)
Tune in to these feelings in your creative work. Look for the reactions within. Of all the experiences that occur during the creative process, touching the ecstatic and allowing it to guide our hand are the most profound and precious. (Page 233)
When we don’t have context, new ideas appear foreign or awkward. (Page 236)
Note: Examine
By definition, revolutionary ideas have no context. They invent their own. (Page 236)
Be aware of strong responses. If you’re immediately turned off by an experience, it’s worth examining why. Powerful reactions often indicate deeper wells of meaning. (Page 236)
Art is about the maker. Its aim: to be an expression of who we are. This makes competition absurd. (Page 237)
Seeing the bar raised in our field can encourage us to reach even higher. (Page 238)
Being made happy by someone else’s best work, and then letting it inspire you to rise to the occasion, is not competition. It’s collaboration. (Page 238)
No system exists that can rank which work is most reflective of the maker. Great art is an invitation, calling to creators everywhere to strive for still higher and deeper levels. (Page 239)
Think of self-competition as a quest for evolution. The object is not to beat our other work. It’s to move things forward and create a sense of progression. Growth over superiority. (Page 239)
All the work we do, no matter how intricate, holds an underlying essence. A core identity or fundamental structure, like a skeleton supporting flesh. Some might call it an “is-ness.” If a child draws a picture of a house, it may have a window, a roof, and a door. If you take away the window and look at the picture, it’s still a house. If you take away the door, it’s still a house. If you take away the roof and the outer walls, and leave the window and the door, it is no longer clear whether it’s still a house. In the same way, each piece of art has a unique, life-giving feature that makes it what it is. It might be the theme, the organizing principle, the artist’s point of view, the quality of the performance, the materials, the mood conveyed, or a combination of elements. Any of these can play a role in forming the essence. If a sculptor makes a work out of stone or out of clay, the experience of that work is very different. Yet a work of stone and one of clay can have the same essence. (Page 241)
Note: Is ness
The essence is always there, and our job in the Craft phase is not to obscure it. (Page 242)
Note: Refine
Sometimes you may not yet know the essence when you’re engaged in the work. You’re merely experimenting and playing. When you end up with something you like, you may come to realize what the essence is. (Page 242)
Distilling a work to get it as close to its essence as possible is a useful and informative practice. Notice how many pieces you can remove before the work you’re making ceases to be the work you’re making. (Page 242)
Refine it to the point where it is stripped bare, in its least decorative form yet still intact. With nothing extra. Sometimes the ornamentation can be of use, often not. Less is generally more. (Page 242)
If you have two units you want to put together, whether it be two sentences or two parts of a song, there can be a tremendous amount of power in doing so without using a transition. (Page 242)
Try finding the simplest, most elegant way to put a point across, with the least amount of information. (Page 243)
Note: Elegant
If there’s any question as to whether an element serves the piece, it’s probably a good idea to let it go. (Page 243)
Perfection is finally obtained not when there is no longer anything to add, but when there’s no longer anything to take away.—Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wind, Sand and Stars (Page 243)
In the end, the sum total of the essence of our individual works may serve as a reflection. The closer we get to the true essence of each work, the sooner they will somehow, at some point in time, provide clues as to our own. (Page 245)
Without witnessing a beloved work’s actual creation, it’s impossible to know what truly happened. And if we did observe the process with our own eyes, our account would be an outside interpretation at best. The stories about how works get made and the rituals of the artists who make them are generally exaggerated, and often pure fiction. (Page 247)
Note: Outside interpretation
Generally our explanations are guesses. These vague hypotheticals become fixed in our minds as fact. We are interpretation machines, and this process of labeling and detaching is efficient but not accurate. We are the unreliable narrators of our own experience. (Page 248)
Note: Guesses
All art is a form of poetry. It’s always changing, never fixed. We may think we know what a piece we made means, yet over time that interpretation may change. The creator stops being the creator once they finish the work. (Page 249)
We are dealing in a magic realm. Nobody knows why or how it works. (Page 251)
As these voices enter an artist’s head—concern for deadlines, deals, sales, media attention, public image, staff, overhead, growing the audience, keeping the existing fan base—they can undermine our focus. The intention of our art can shift from self-expression to self-sustainment. From creative choices to business decisions. The key to navigating this phase of an artistic journey is learning to tune out. To prevent external pressures from entering our inner process and interfering with the pure creative state. (Page 253)
When you’re able to focus purely on creativity and work in a sacred space, everyone benefits. And all other priorities are served. (Page 254)
Note: Serve
At any stage in a career, the critic in your head may make its voice heard. Repeating that you’re not talented enough. Your idea isn’t good enough. Art isn’t a worthwhile investment of your time. The result won’t be well-received. You’re a failure. Or there may be a contrary voice that tells you that everything you do is perfect and you will be the greatest phenomenon the world has ever seen. More often than not, these are outer voices that were absorbed early in life. (Page 254)
The artist’s goal is to keep themselves pure and unattached. To avoid letting stress, responsibility, fear, and dependence on a particular outcome distract. And if it does, it’s never too late to reset. (Page 255)
Note: Clearing
The first step of clearing is acknowledgment. Notice yourself feeling the weight of self-criticism or the pressure to live up to expectations. And remember that commercial success is completely out of your control. All that matters is that you are making something you love, to the best of your ability, here and now. (Page 255)
Regularly engaging in this practice builds the muscle of focused intention, which you can use in everything you do. Eventually, tuning out the undermining voices and losing yourself in the work will not be an effort of will, but an earned ability. (Page 255)
As children, few of us are taught to understand and prioritize our feelings. (Page 257)
As artists, our mission is not to fit in or conform to popular thinking. Our purpose is to value and develop our understanding of ourselves and the world around us. (Page 257)
To be self-aware is to have the ability to tune in to what we think, how we feel, and how much we feel it without interference. To notice how we notice the outside world. (Page 258)
Note: Abandon
The more we identify with our self as it exists through the eyes of others, the more disconnected we become and the less energy we have to draw from. (Page 258)
Self-awareness is a transcendence. An abandonment of ego. A letting go. (Page 258)
It’s helpful to work as if the project you’re engaged in is bigger than you. (Page 261)
Note: Au het gaat nuet om mij
Artists occasionally experience a sense of stagnation. A block. This isn’t because the flow of creativity has stopped. It can’t. This generative energy is ceaseless. It may just be that we are choosing not to engage with it. Think of an artistic impasse as another type of creation. A block of your own making. (Page 263)
When we feel constricted, we might begin to create an opening through surrender. If we let go of our analytical thoughts, the flow might be able to find a path through us more easily. We can be and do, rather than think and try. Create in the present, rather than anticipating the future. Each time we surrender, we may come to find that the answer we seek is right before our eyes. A new idea arises. An object in the room inspires. Feelings in the body amplify. This is worth considering in difficult moments when we appear to be stuck, to have lost our way, to have nothing left to give. What if this is all a story? (Page 263)
When you look at the work, practice truly seeing what’s there, without a negativity bias. (Page 264)
You might come to realize 80 percent of the work is quite good, and if the other 20 percent fits in just the right way, the work becomes magnificent. (Page 264)
When you acknowledge a weakness, always consider how it could either be removed or improved before discarding the entire piece. (Page 264)
Note: Remi or improve. Dont throw away
If you are open and stay tuned to what’s happening, the answers will be revealed. (Page 267)
If we’re paying attention, we may notice that some of our most interesting artistic choices come about by accident. Springing from moments of communion with the work, when the self disappears. Sometimes they feel like mistakes. These mistakes are the subconscious engaged in problem-solving. (Page 273)
Note: Communion
In time, we learn to count on the hand of the unknown. For some artists, being surprised is a rare experience. But it’s possible to cultivate this gift through invitation. (Page 274)
Note: Grace
Many of us are taught to create through sheer will. If we choose surrender, the ideas that want to come through us will not be blocked. (Page 274)
With your intention set, and the destination unknown, you are free to surrender your conscious mind, dive into the raging stream of creative energy, and watch the unexpected appear, again and again. As each small surprise leads to another, you’ll soon find the biggest surprise: You learn to trust yourself—in the universe, with the universe, as a unique channel to a higher wisdom. This intelligence is beyond our understanding. Through grace, it is accessible to all. (Page 274)
When beginning a new project, we’re often met with anxiety. It visits almost all of us no matter how experienced, successful, or well-prepared we might be. In facing the void, there is a tension of opposites. There is an excitement for the possibility something great may be realized and a dread it might not. And the result is out of our control. The weight of our expectations can grow heavy. As does the fear that we are not up to the task at hand. What if we can’t pull it off this time? What helps to keep these worries at bay and move forward is a trust in the process. When we sit down to work, remember that the outcome is out of our control. If we are willing to take each step into the unknown with grit and determination, carrying with us all of our collected knowledge, we will ultimately get to where we’re going. This destination may not be one we’ve chosen in advance. It will likely be more interesting. This isn’t a matter of blind belief in yourself. It’s a matter of experimental faith. (Page 277)
Note: Experimental faith
You work not as an evangelist, expecting miracles, but as a scientist, testing and adjusting and testing again. Experimenting and building on the results. Faith is rewarded, perhaps even more than talent or ability. After all, how can we offer the art what it needs without blind trust? We are required to believe in something that doesn’t exist in order to allow it to come into being. (Page 278)
Note: Science = faith
For the artist, whose job is testing possibilities, success is as much ruling out a solution as finding one that works. (Page 279)
With unshakable faith, we work under the assumption that the problem is already solved. The answer is out there, perhaps it’s obvious. We just haven’t come across it yet. (Page 279)
Sometimes the mistakes are what makes a work great. Humanity breathes in mistakes. (Page 281)
To keep the artistic output evolving, continually replenish the vessel from which it comes. And actively stretch your point of view. (Page 284)
Note: Replenish
Purposely experiment past the boundaries of your taste. (Page 284)
heart of open-mindedness is curiosity. Curiosity doesn’t take sides or insist on a single way of doing things. It explores all perspectives. (Page 285)
Note: Incorporate
When something doesn’t go according to plan, we have a choice to either resist it or incorporate it. (Page 285)
An explosion of information arrives in inspired moments. How can we avoid becoming fixated on these bolts of lightning? Some artists live as storm chasers awaiting spontaneous strikes, longing for the thrill. A more constructive strategy is to focus less on the lightning bolt and more on the spaces surrounding it. The space before, because lightning does not strike unless the right preconditions are met, and the space after, because the electricity dissipates if you do not capture it and use it. When we are struck by an epiphany, our experience of what’s possible has been expanded. In that instant, we are broken open. We’ve entered a new reality. Even when we leave that heightened state, the experience sometimes remains in us. Other times it’s fleeting. If lightning should strike, and this information is channeled through the aether to us, what follows is a great deal of practical work. While we can’t command a lightning bolt’s arrival, we can control the space around it. We accomplish this by preparing beforehand and honoring our obligation to it afterward. (Page 289)
If lightning doesn’t strike, our work need not be delayed. Some storm chasers believe that inspiration precedes creation. This is not always the case. Working without lightning bolts is simply working. (Page 290)
Artists are ultimately craftspeople. Sometimes our ideas come through bolts of lightning. Other times only through effort, experiment, and craft. As we work, we may notice connections and become surprised by the wonder of what’s revealed through the doing itself. In a way, these small a-ha! moments are also bolts of lightning. Less vivid, they still illuminate our way. (Page 290)
Without diligence, inspiration alone rarely yields work of much consequence. (Page 291)
Making great art may not always require great effort, but without it, you’ll never know. If inspiration calls, we ride the lightning until the energy is exhausted. The ride may not last long. But we are grateful for the opportunity. If inspiration does not come to lead the way, we show up anyway. (Page 291)
Do what you can with what you have. Nothing more is needed. (Page 293)
Even after we get up from hours engaged in our craft, the clock is still running. This is because the artist’s job is of two kinds: The work of doing. The work of being. Creativity is something you are, not only something you do. It’s a way of moving through the world, every minute, every day. If you’re not driven to an unrealistic standard of dedication, it may not be the path for you. (Page 295)
Once you acquiesce to the demands of the creative life, it becomes a part of you. Even in the midst of a project, you still look for new ideas each day. (Page 296)
Maybe the best idea is the one you’re going to come up with this evening. (Page 297)
Quality isn’t based on the amount of time invested. So long as what emerges is pleasing to us, the work has fulfilled its purpose. (Page 300)
Note: Misleading
The story of spontaneity can be misleading. We don’t see all the practice and preparation that goes into priming an artist for the spontaneous event to come through. Every work contains a lifetime of experience. (Page 300)
Great artists often labor to make their work appear effortless. (Page 300)
Even spontaneity gets better with practice. (Page 301)
You may worry that a great idea could get lost or overlooked in the spontaneity of a moment. To guard against that when I’m working with an artist, I make an endless amount of notes. (Page 302)
Faithful note-taking by a connected observer helps prevent special moments from getting lost in the churn of excitement. (Page 302)
How do we decide which direction to take? How can we know which choice will lead us to the best possible version of the work? The answer is rooted in a universal principle of relationships. We can only tell where something is in relation to something else. And we can only assess an object or principle if we have something to compare and contrast it to. Otherwise it’s an absolute beyond evaluation. We can hack into this principle to improve our creations through A/ B testing. It is difficult to assess a work or a choice on its own without another point of reference. If you place two options side by side and make a direct comparison, our preferences become clear. We limit our options for each test to two choices wherever possible. (Page 305)
If you’re at an impasse in an A/ B test, consider the coin toss method. Decide which option will be heads and which will be tails, then flip the coin. When the coin is spinning in the air, you’ll likely notice a quiet preference or wish for one of the two to come up. Which are you rooting for? This is the option to go with. It’s the one the heart desires. The test is over before the coin ever lands. (Page 307)
In crafting, the amount of time we put in and the results we get are rarely in balance. A large movement may materialize all at once; other times a tiny detail may take days. And there’s no predicting how much of a role either will play in the final outcome. (Page 309)
What ultimately makes a work great is the sum total of the tiniest details. (Page 310)
Does the artist have a social responsibility? Some might agree with this notion and want to encourage artists to create accordingly. Those who hold this belief may not have a clear understanding of the function of art in society and its integral social value. (Page 317)
Wanting to change people’s minds about an issue or have an effect on society may interfere with the quality and purity of the work. This doesn’t mean that our work can’t have those qualities, but we generally don’t get there by planning them. In the creative process, it’s often more difficult to accomplish a goal by aiming at it. (Page 317)
Note: Aim ≠ accomplish
Deciding what to say in advance doesn’t allow whatever’s best to come. Meaning is assigned once an inspired idea is followed through. (Page 318)
Note: Mooie paradox
It’s best to wait until a work is complete to discover what it is saying. Holding your work hostage to meaning is a limitation. (Page 318)
Works that attempt to overtly preach a message often don’t connect as hoped, while a piece not intended to address a societal ill may become an anthem for a revolutionary cause. (Page 318)
Art is far more powerful than our plans for it. (Page 318)
Art can’t be irresponsible. It speaks to all aspects of the human experience. There are sides of ourselves that aren’t welcome in polite society, thoughts and feelings too dark to share. When we recognize them expressed in art, we feel less alone. More real, more human. This is the therapeutic power of making and consuming art. (Page 318)
Art is above and beyond judgment. It either speaks to you or it doesn’t. The artist’s only responsibility is to the work itself. There are no other requirements. (Page 319)
The world is only as free as it allows its artists to be. (Page 319)
If a ritual or superstition has a positive effect on an artist’s work, then it’s worth pursuing. (Page 326)
Note: Consistently do
It may be helpful to receive advice from more experienced artists, but as information, not as prescription. (Page 326)
Receive wisdom skillfully. Try it on for size and see how it fits. Incorporate what’s useful. Let go of the rest. (Page 326)
The only practice that matters is the one you consistently do, not the practice of any other artist. (Page 326)
Practice gets us part of the way there. Then it takes time for practice to be absorbed into the body. We might call this the recovery phase. In weightlifting, the practice breaks down muscle and recovery builds it back stronger than before. The passive element of practice is as important as the active one. (Page 328)
Art is an act of decoding. We receive intelligence from Source, and interpret it through the language of our chosen craft. (Page 331)
If you feel unable to hit a note or faithfully paint an image, it’s helpful to remember that the challenge is not that you can’t do it, but that you haven’t done it yet. (Page 332)
Learning provides more ways to reliably convey your ideas. From our enlarged menu, we can still choose the simplest, most elegant option. (Page 333)
To hone your craft is to honor creation. It doesn’t matter if you become the best in your field. By practicing to improve, you are fulfilling your ultimate purpose on this planet. (Page 333)
If we train ourselves to step away from the work, to truly detach from it, to distract ourselves completely, to dive fully into something else . . . After being away for a long enough period of time, when we come back, we just may be able to see it as if for the first time. (Page 335)
The mission is to be in the present moment with the work. (Page 336)
At this stage in the process, every element of a work is interdependent. So even a small change can have unexpected ramifications. When the mix is updated to reflect your list, you may falsely assume you’ve made progress. (Page 337)
A way to practice keeping a clean slate is to avoid looking at the work too often. If you finish a section or come to a sticking point, consider putting the project away and not engaging with it for a period of time. Let it sit for a minute, a week, or longer, while you go get lost. (Page 337)
When you return with a clear perspective, you will more likely have the discernment to see what the project wants and needs. (Page 337)
What allows this to happen is the passing of time. Time is where learning occurs. Unlearning as well. (Page 338)
A new context may create a work more powerful than the one you anticipated. One you never could have imagined before changing one seemingly inconsequential element. (Page 341)
Works hinting at greatness contain a charge we can feel, like static before a lightning storm. (Page 343)
The call of the artist is to follow the excitement. Where there’s excitement, there’s energy. And where there is energy, there is light. (Page 345)
While the artist’s goal is greatness, it’s also to move forward. In service to the next project, we finish the current one. (Page 350)
Sharing art is the price of making it. Exposing your vulnerability is the fee. (Page 350)
Take art seriously without going about it in a serious way. Seriousness saddles the work with a burden. It misses the playful side of being human. The chaotic exuberance of being present in the world. The lightness of pure enjoyment for enjoyment’s sake. In play, there are no stakes. (Page 354)
messes. Embrace randomness. When playtime is over, our adult aspect might come in to analyze: What did the kids make today? I wonder if it’s any good, and what it could mean. (Page 354)
Each day is about showing up, building things, breaking them down, experimenting, and surprising ourselves. If a four-year-old loses interest in an activity, they don’t try to complete it or force themselves to have fun with it. They just shift gears to a new quest. Another form of play. (Page 354)
Rather than following a plan, a path was taken blindly. This can happen every day. Find a clue, follow a lead, remain unattached to what came before. And avoid getting stuck with a decision you made five minutes ago. (Page 355)
Whatever you choose, it’s helpful to have fellow travelers around you. They don’t have to be like you, just like-minded in some way. Creativity is contagious. When we spend time with other artistic people, we absorb and exchange a way of thinking, a way of looking at the world. This group can be called a Sangha. Each person in this relationship begins seeing with a different imaginative eye. (Page 361)
We inhabit many different versions of a changing self. The suggestion to be yourself may be too general to be of much use. There’s being yourself as an artist, being yourself with your family, being yourself at work, being yourself with friends, being yourself in times of crisis or in times of peace, and being yourself for yourself, when by yourself. In addition to these environmental variations, we are also always changing within. Our moods, our energy level, the stories we tell ourselves, our prior experiences, how hungry or tired we are: All these variants create a new way of being in each moment. (Page 363)
There is a constant negotiation occurring between these various aspects. And each time we tune in to a particular one, different choices result, changing the outcome of our work. (Page 364)
Note: Prisma metafoor
In a prism, a single beam of light enters and is broken into an array of colors. (Page 364)
The self, too, is a prism. Neutral events enter, and are transformed into a spectrum of feelings, thoughts, and sensations. All this information is processed distinctively by each aspect of self, refracting life’s light in its own way, and emitting different shades of art. For this reason, not every work can reflect all of our selves. Perhaps it’s never possible, no matter how hard we try. Instead, we might embrace the prism of self, and keep allowing reality to bend uniquely through us. (Page 364)
The more we accept our prismlike nature, the more free we become to create in different colors and the more we trust the inconsistent instincts we hold while making art. (Page 365)
Any framework, method, or label you impose on yourself is just as likely to be a limitation as an opening. (Page 367)
The prism of self reflects an aspect of our being into our work. When more than one prism is applied, unexpected possibilities can be unlocked. (Page 371)
Each time we cooperate, we’re exposed to different ways of working and problem-solving, which can inform our creative process going forward. (Page 372)
Competition serves the ego. Cooperation supports the highest outcome. (Page 372)
It is a disservice to the project to weigh our contribution to it. Believing an idea is best because it’s ours is an error of inexperience. The ego demands personal authorship, inflating itself at the expense of the art. It can reject new methods that appear counterintuitive and protect familiar ones. (Page 372)
The best results are found when we’re impartial and detached from our own strategies. We all benefit when the best idea is chosen, regardless of whether it’s ours or not. (Page 372)
Imagine shining a beam of light through two filters of identical color. Whether apart or together, they produce the same hue. Whereas overlapping two contrasting filters produces a new shade. In many of the greatest bands, collectives, and collaborations, a degree of polarity between members was part of the formula for greatness. (Page 374)
Though you may have a specific fix in mind, hold back from sharing it immediately. The recipient may be able to come up with a better solution on their own. (Page 375)
Note: Wees daarom niet wettisch
When on the receiving end of feedback, our task is to set aside ego and work to fully understand the critique offered. When one participant suggests a specific detail that could be improved, we might mistakenly think that the entire work is being called into question. Our ego can perceive assistance as interference. (Page 375)
It helps to keep in mind that language is an imperfect means of communication. (Page 375)
It requires patience and diligence to get past the story of what you think you’re hearing and get close to understanding what’s actually being said. (Page 376)
Note: Zie ook understory / high conflict
When sharing observations, specificity creates space. (Page 376)
Most artists overvalue sincerity. They strive to create art that expresses their truth. The truest version of themselves. Sincerity, however, is an elusive characteristic. It is different from other goals we may have. Where greatness is a target worthy of our aim, setting our sights on sincerity may be counterproductive. (Page 379)
In art, sincerity is a by-product. It cannot be the primary aim. (Page 379)
We like to think of ourselves as consistent, rational beings, possessing certain attributes and not others. Yet a person who is completely consistent, who possesses no contradictions, comes across as less real. Wooden. Plastic. (Page 380)
Note: Compleet consistent is nep
The editor is required to set ego aside. Ego pridefully attaches to individual elements of a work. The editor’s role is to remain unattached and see beyond these passions to find unity and balance. Talented artists who are unskilled editors can do subpar work and fail to live up to their gift’s promise. (Page 386)
Avoid confusing the editor’s cold detachment with the inner critic. The critic doubts the work, undermines it, zooms in and picks it apart. The editor steps back, views the work holistically, and supports its full potential. The editor is the professional in the poet. (Page 386)
We are not aiming to reduce the work to its final length. We are working to reduce it beyond its final length. (Page 387)
If you’ve written a book that’s over three hundred pages, try to reduce it to less than a hundred without losing its essence. In addition to getting to the heart of the work, through this brutal edit we change our relationship to it. We come to understand its underlying structure and realize what truly matters, to disconnect from the attachment of making it and see it for what it is. (Page 387)
With the extra layers removed, you may stand back and notice that the work is successful as it is, in its simplest form. Or you may feel that you want to restore certain elements. As long as you’re maintaining the integrity of the work, it’s a matter of personal preference. It’s worth taking a moment to notice if any of your add-backs actually enhance the work. We’re not looking for more for the sake of more. We’re only looking for more for the sake of better. The goal is to get the work to the point that when you see it, you know it couldn’t have been arranged any other way. There’s a sense of balance. Of elegance. (Page 388)
Ultimately, the act of self-expression isn’t really about you. (Page 391)
Note: Diep
As human beings, we come and go quickly, and we get to make works that stand as monuments to our time here. Enduring affirmations of existence. Michelangelo’s David, the first cave paintings, a child’s finger-paint landscapes—they all echo the same human cry, like graffiti scrawled in a bathroom stall: I was here. When you contribute your point of view to the world, others can see it. It’s refracted through their filter and distributed again. This process is continuous and ongoing. Taken all together, it creates what we experience as reality. (Page 392)
