Playing Chess With God

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There is Still Time on the Clock

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SWIMMING - Experience

2015

Swimming. This is a subject that comes up often in reference to painting, and other types of spiritual practices. To dive in. Often I find myself explaining to people that painting is an action, very much like swimming. Creativity is tied to action as opposed to thought. Thought is the driver of action, but the actual doing has a magic of its own that can only be gained through experience. The process. Diving in. As much as a person can intellectualize about swimming, meaning reading books, watching videos to gain an understanding of the mechanics, recognize the different strokes, until you actually get in the water you have no idea what swimming really is. You have to experience it. Period. Interestingly, I am not a diver. Some people just like to jump in the water. Not me. A little at a time. On the steps. Unless it is ridiculously warm. I find I work that way as an artist, in layers. A little at a time. There is so much to be learned by how we navigate the waters.

Dive deep. (Surrender to the depth)

2024

Also interestingly, I still talk about swimming quite often to explain experience. I have added that you can even have a bathtub and have interaction with water and still not understand swimming. The original prompt above was something I jotted down in 2015 to expand upon later. Apparently much later…Since that time having taken on the role of art center founder, some practical context in relation to that prompt has emerged. Having the right environment and tools enhances the experience. In some cases it makes the experience possible. Without the pool or body of water, there is no swimming. To swim is not possible without an environment that supports it. In the case of swimming, the pool is the tool that provides the opportunity.

There is another thing that has changed since 2015 and that is the amount of DIY educational information available out there on YouTube. You can learn whatever you want! From 3-D printing to woodworking to screen printing there are a zillion tutorials available on demand. Tips, techniques and how-to’s around every corner. You can learn whatever you want, but you can’t have the experience by watching. There is no learning about woodworking without the tools. Running the board through the table saw, the resistance of the wood, the dust, the satisfaction and the learning comes from the doing. The accomplishment of the task, how it feels. The experience. That first bowl you throw on the pottery wheel, how it turns out is not the point. The interaction with the clay, in the environment with the right tools creates the experience which is the real masterpiece. You have the rest of your life to improve.

Experience. (Engage in doing)

WITHOUT A THOUGHT - The Process

It has been said that the thought is the spark of creation, and everything coming into form begins with a thought. An idea. This premise is logical in the sense that it does take the purpose of thought to initially engage with your work. You have to have the idea, the impulse to begin your work. But once you approach the work and dive in there is another principal acting that lives outside of the realm of the thinking mind. When everything else falls away, including thought, you arrive at the place where soul expression is born. This is where the work moves through you, where you are setting free the soul and letting go of the mind, the thoughts, the ideas and simply creating the work. You allow the creation to manifest through you, engaging with the materials, and the surfaces from a place of surrender to something outside of yourself. Instead of painting an idea of love, you are the conduit for the expression of love, how it feels to you through color and movement. It is the difference between thinking about being, and being. Simply being.

Paint through your soul.

IN THE BEGINNING - Where to Start

I was in middle school when we first moved to the desert, from Santa Barbara, of all places. I mean, who moves away from Santa Barbara? I was a shy, awkward nearly teenage only child who spent a lot of time missing childhood friends in the miserable isolation of prepubescence in the desert. One of the many tools I had at my disposal in order to keep myself entertained was a typewriter. Pairing this instrument with a roll of paper that was intended for drawing, I would compose long letters. Literally. One of them actually reached the height of my twelve year old self. This was before the days of email, text messages and mobile phones, when you shared the same line with your parents, and it was an extra cost for long distance calls. It was before Atari, although not too long before the Atari came to steal long hours of my summertime life. The writing was a comfort, a connection, a way to combat the loneliness and confusion of growing up.  Eventually, somewhere in High School, this practice faded away, replaced with a combination of driving, cigarette smoking and other unsightly teenage social behaviors. 

Fast forward almost twenty years. In between some college, marriage, the birth of children, some more college, work, parenting and the challenge of divorce, I found myself writing again outside of an academic context. Pretty much to save myself. I journaled as if my life depended on it, which I am pretty sure it did at the time. I complained, cried and dreamt on those pages. I slowly remembered myself and began to enjoy my independence. The words, just letting them spill out my truth, guided me. Along with about a year with a skillful therapist. This was a time when I was beginning to reengage with my creativity in full force, painting, drawing, ceramics and even some open mic poetry. The words were there for me. Without a grade or judgement. 

I have kept a journal somewhat regularly since that time, as a tool for ideas, thoughts, documentation, venting, a way to get my truth out safely where I can reference it later if necessary. One of the recurring themes that comes up in these journals has been to write in a less private way. To actually share my words in some ways seems like torture, and in other ways seems like a comfort, a connection. That same comfort and connection of junior high letters. I have heard it said that the artist creates when the pain of not creating outweighs the pain of creation. Looks like the scales are tipping.

Being a visual artist has not lessened my lust for language. It is really just a different way to tell the story. Nearly thirty years in assisting creatives, and acting within my own creativity, has endowed me with a set of skills and experiences that are begging to be shared. When asked the question, where do I start, the reply is always: from exactly where you are. 

The beginning is always now. (Thanks Joanne)

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