Think like an artist
An engineer recently signed up for one of my classes in Taos. I asked him what kind of work he likes to do, and he described an enviable picture of things he makes and builds. But really, he said, what he wants to do is learn how to “think like an artist.” This got me curious: What does it mean to think like an artist?
In the second month of being cloistered at home, I hear more and more people saying, What day is it? This reminds me of the long, long journey Frodo and Sam made to Mount Doom* — one day folding into the next, and the path seeming endless. With each step, the ring, that which must be given back to the mountain, becomes heavier with reluctance and doubt and the uselessness of the journey. It is so painful to let go. And so easy to give in, to just feel too tired to carry on. At one point, with miles more to climb, and little difference between day and night, Sam says to Frodo: Is it today or tomorrow?
Remembering the perseverance that was required of Sam and Frodo, I wonder, What is it that I must give up, and throw into the fire at the top of this mountain? What does thinking like an artist require of me now? What is this pandemic asking of me? There are so many things I hope it is not asking me to leave behind — like meeting in person with my students again, and celebrating the communion of making; or going to the small family-owned bar where Anna (who planted our dogwood tree) sings with her band; or the buffet at Mabel Dodge Luhan Retreat, where I can help myself to as much crisp bacon, eggs and fresh baked treats as I want every morning, without gloves or a mask. Or going to our locally owned, family-run art store. Or tasting samples at the Farmer’s Market. Or seeing my father. So many things.
I am sitting with this question of what needs releasing, because I think we are being asked to change, to find a new way of being. To let go so that something new can happen. And something new is happening.
Cloister
Cloister, as a verb, is what the whole world is engaged in: seclude or shut up in or as if in a convent. As a noun, cloister is a covered walkway, a colonnade, or a cathedral … this is our best option, to somehow make this time into a walkway or cathedral. Imagine, a worldwide cathedral.
I am writing a mid-month missive to cheer us up. Many of you have probably been introduced to the series of short essays by Ross Gay: The Book of Delights. And perhaps you have heard his interview on OnBeing? Steven ordered the book to cheer me up. I highly recommend it. In spite of the title, it is not lightweight. Ross Gay is aware of the proximity between death and joy, terror and delight.
His essays are well written, short and often humorous. They can be read as a meditation each morning during this time of being separated from people you love. I am now in the middle of his book.
Yesterday I was walking in my garden, trying to get in the frame of mind of finding delight in these sobering times.
"Our fate restricts us so that our destiny can find us...." — Michael Meade
Our fate restricts us so that our destiny can find us, so that we can find again the gifts we came to give the world and receive the blessing the world would give to us.
— Michael Meade, Fate and Destiny
When something happens that common notions don’t have enough gravitas for understanding, the old stories talk about the “hand of fate”. The Greeks have many stories about prophecies, fate and destiny — and the danger of dismissing the signs.
Now the whole world is tied together by this “hand of fate”. It is as if the planet really is alive with intelligence, insisting that we slow down. Alongside the tragedy of illness and death all around, there is the sense of destiny, of something larger than all of us, forcing us to go inward, or live in trauma.
I have thought a long time about the words, fate and destiny. I am not a Calvinist, I don’t think everything is pre-determined. I believe that every choice matters. And yet, there is this ancient notion of fate as an invisible thread that is woven through all the things of the world and all the events in time. (Michael Meade). It includes an awareness of the limitations we have been given, including death. Fate is the hand you are dealt. Destiny is how you play your hand, how you choose to live into your fate, and find meaning in what you have been given. Your destiny is fully realized because of your limitation. There is an inherent connection between your inner gift and your inner wound. The door is through willingness to be vulnerable, to accept your limitation as a structure that supports your soul’s expression.
Images from student work at Ghost Ranch
I am devoting this post to showing the work done by students in our recent class at Ghost Ranch. Please forgive this long absence — all my attention has been given to my class, and to finishing my paintings for my upcoming exhibit. Another post will be coming soon with some images from my show.
It is impossible, after a rich experience, to convey it all in words or images. This will give you a glimpse of the place, which has its own power and presence, and some of the work that was done.
It is not my job to praise or blame, only, in the end, to be envious of your work.
— William Stafford to his students
In the atmosphere of New Mexico high desert, we combined working with the Tarot cards (to strengthen intuition and inner imagery), with writing, painting and bookmaking…
