Rainbow Rhetoric

I’ve been thinking a lot about rainbows and why I am so attracted to them (and the way they represent the color spectrum as a whole) and why they sooth me so.

As a designer (and artist-type), it’s safe to say that I have always been attracted to color. The right color or combination of colors can make or break a design, a room, a meal - hell, my day. In the dead of winter (like today) with a gray, overcast sky and a vast dead brown dirty landscape, I find myself depressed in the absence of color.

I understand the psychology of color and that certain colors can elicit certain emotional responses (see some links below). For me, it’s my fascination with the entire spectrum together and in ROY G. BIV order and, more specifically - why does it make me so happy and self soothed. I love nothing better than creating a color wheel out of - well anything (as seen by the rainbow pancakes I made last week). I have the ideas swirling about other food color wheels, a color wheel based Easter egg tree…and on and on. One of my most cherished possessions is my large set of Pantone swatch books (and thankfully, as a designer, they were tax deductible - those suckers are stupid expensive).

It saddens me that the rainbow color spectrum is so easily associated with certain movements and social icons because (in my opinion) it triggers an immediate response for people. Don’t get me wrong, I am *wholeheartedly* pro gay pride and yes, I myself also loved unicorns and Rainbow Bright as a young girl…but the emotional responses I have are not based on my social/political beliefs or childhood nostalgia.

(Photo by Henry Hargreaves - Facebook | Website)

Here is where I think I might get a little goofy for some. I believe it has to do with the fact that a “rainbow” (or visual spectrum) is how the human visibly responds to wavelengths (energy) - only a small portion of the electromagnetic spectrum as a whole. We all know that a specific color is perceived when the light is reflected (or absorbed) at a specific wavelength (probably the only thing I actually remember from Mr. Hansel’s 8th grade science class). There are waves above and below the visible spectrum - radio, microwave, infrared, ultraviolet, x-rays and gamma.

So in essence, color is simply energy that we, as humans, can perceive. The power of the waves outside of the visual spectrum (mentioned above) are numerous and powerful. They cook our food, kill cancerous cells, give us the ability to communicate, etc. - it stands to reason, that the power that the visible spectrum holds (right in the middle of those other waves) should be just as powerful.

I don’t know if that makes any sense, but for me, it makes me feel connected. Maybe that’s why I love the rainbow - it gives me a sense of connectivity to all thing surrounding me. Makes me feel a little more whole? More human? Less insignificant?

There is no denying, that for me, the mere thought of color on a dreary or challenging day can pull me out of a funk. Does it have to do with energy? I don’t know…but, I like to think that by admiring and basking in the colors that make up my world - I am a little bit more connected to what makes us tick.

Links on Color Theory:

http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-new-brain/201104/why-we-prefer-certain-colors
http://www.factmonster.com/spot/colors1.html
http://news.discovery.com/human/evolution/colors-preferences-evolution-style.htm
http://www.fi.edu/color/color.html & http://www.fi.edu/color/rainbow.html
http://ascension-stgermain.com/rainbow-rays-article.html « a little too out there for me, but I like the idea

Other random color resources for designers:

http://www.pantone.com/pages/pantone/index.aspx « duh
http://www.creativebloq.com/top-colour-resources-1131659
http://www.creativebloq.com/colour/tools-colour-schemes-12121430
http://www.creativebloq.com/colour/choose-colour-theme-712364
http://www.creativebloq.com/graphic-design-tips/colour-scheme-generator-tools-1232735
http://www.colortools.net/
http://downloadsquad.switched.com/2008/10/09/color-me-crazy-10-best-online-color-tools/
http://mashable.com/2010/06/10/color-tools-web-design/
http://designrfix.com/web-development-tools/30-color-tools-designers
http://colllor.com/
http://www.colorblender.com/

Fighting Fear with a Pencil

I’ve made a new goal for myself: to sketch at least once a day. Seems like something that would be easy to do, and technically speaking it is…but emotionally, it’s much harder than it looks. I have rules that go along too. Every sketch has to be dated and NONE can be torn out of the book (which, I’ll admit, I’ve already broken once. I couldn’t bear to have it in there it was so bad). I have two books going right now, one that is fancy and one that I made with no cover and visible stitching. Can you guess which one I like the most?

The materials are easy - paints, paper, pencils, pens - so why is this so hard, or better yet, why do I seem to be taking this so seriously?

Here’s the deal: Every sketch is evidence that I have overcome my fear of failure - if only for that one moment once a day. I love looking forward to the drawing that I get to do everyday, and I also fear it. It’s a fear that says “see…here’s yet another chance for you to show that you really are a faker” or “you can’t do this so why even start?”

Every finished sketch is like a sigh of relief - once again, I faced the fear and told it to back off for a while.  Seems silly - but the fear of failure is a palpable one. It makes me all queasy in the stomach and want to crawl under the covers. It’s funny how a small thing like a stupid drawing can offer such a sense peace.

Giving it a name.

“Most of us have two lives. The life we live, and the unlived life within us. Between the two stands Resistance.” ~ The War of Art by Steven Pressfield

Resistance is a bastard. It is what keeps us from doing what we envision ourselves doing (but of course would never admit to out of looking like the freak we already think we are), what would make us feel like a whole, like the person we were suppose to be.

According to Pressfield, Resistance is:

1. Invisible. A negative repelling force aimed at distracting us from doing our work.
2. Internal. Self generated; the enemy within.
3. insidious. A lying, cheating, seducing and full of shit.
4. Implacable. An engine of destruction, programmed for one thing: prevent us from doing our work.
5. Impersonal. It doesn’t know who you are, nor, does it care.
6. Infallible. The more important a call or action, the more resistance will pursue it.
7. Universal.
9. Never Sleeps.
10. Plays for Keeps. It aims to kill.
11. Fueled by Fear.
12. Recruits allies. Family members, friends, loved ones - they love you and want the best, but they, unknowingly, let their own resistance get in the way.

I know you are thinking…yeah yeah, blah blah. Quote away, but what the hell does that really MEAN? For me, it was a huge kick in my ass. It is a way to look at the things I have been doing and thinking and worrying over - and giving it a proper name and a face. By naming this feeling or force, Resistance, I have been better able to face it head on and start to tell it to go to hell.

Some of these above are easier to recognize than others. For me, I sit and ruminate over one in particular: Resistance and Fear (which, ironically, is probably a form of resistance in itself).

Fear comes in so many forms. For me, it’s never really been one of caring what others think (about my actual work per se) but rather, my fear of the items within my craft that I don’t know how to do. By not knowing, I become afraid and then turn to avoidance and procrastination. And my procrastination is insidious indeed - I procrastinate with paying freelance work. I justify not getting to my bench or not contacting that shop about consignment (or or or…the list goes on) by justifying to myself that design is how I make my living and there is no possible way I could make a living of of glass or metal.

I still am afraid but, in recognizing my fear as resistance, I can fight it. I can force myself to sit down at my bench every day (for at least a little bit) inspired or not because it is who I am and what I want to be. Next week I will identify the days of the week as either  “design days” or “bench days” - relieving myself of the excuse during a “bench day” that other paying work should take precedence.

I’m only at the beginning - but, like all 12-step programs will tell ya - admitting you have a problem is the first step.

I’ll take it.

“Fear is good. Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do.”…”The more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it.” ~ The War of Art

…but she made me do it.

My muse is either incredibly sensitive to my needs or she is a real bitch…can’t quite tell yet.

She seems to lie in wait in my brain until she sees a hole, a bit of light at the end of an otherwise jammed tunnel of a brain - and then pushes her way through. Unabashed and full of herself, as if to say - “don’t you forget about me…I’m here and I demand to be heard. Oh, you’re brain is full of work and life and family and responsibility and fear and worry and a waning self-esteem? Too damn bad. I’m here - now listen!”

She is relentless in her pursuit to be heard. She interrupts the flow of my day, my night, my life. She pushes all of my thoughts aside and makes her presence known - I can see her drawing a large circle around herself, like one would do at the beach in the sand, shoving and stacking all my thoughts and fears and worries up to the side - clearing out her space and declaring it as her own.

When she has set up camp…she refuses to leave. She refuses to let me go through my day without seeing everything through her eyes. Everything becomes inspiration, something to ponder. I notice the intricacies in things that, quite frankly, I don’t have the time or energy to take in. She doesn’t care…she doesn’t give a shit if I’ve got personal crisis or work that is way past due or sleep that must be had. She is a force.

I never know how long she will stay or when she will make an appearance but I certainly know when she’s arrived. Over the years, I’ve learned to pay attention to her - she really doesn’t give me much of an option. I relish the raw feeling she gives me…making me look at things, making me stop and think, making me step out of my uncertainties, my worries, my struggles - making me pay attention to things around me.

Good lord, she’s a pain in the ass. She doesn’t force my hand to create - but she makes it impossible to focus on the things at hand. I lose hours to her - it could be days if I let her. And then, when I’ve finally said I’ve had enough - because walking around like a raw nerve is exhausting - she lingers for a while and then quietly puts back the mess she shoved to the side (never in the right order, of course) and steps back into the darkness.

I love her and I hate her.

The book of my inspiration and motivation. Found it in an old pile of books…and it’s amazing.

Art As Survival

The papers have been signed; we are officially moving to Beijing for two years this August.

Yes, I am looking forward to the food and the culture and no, I’m NOT looking forward to the lax view on keeping bodily functions to ones self (i.e. spitting constantly)…but more over, what I cannot wait to experience…is myself. I can’t wait to see how my creativity and inspiration and work evolves and changes and morphs into something new. Something that it could have never been had I not made this decision to move to China.

Note: This post, admittedly, is very selfish. It’s about me and my process and my mindset. I know I will have plenty of familial things to blog about later on - copious food photos, nightmare stories of being lost with a 5 year old on the subway and cute videos of Atticus speaking Mandarin. Please, don’t worry - you will be overloaded with appalling and adorable footage from China.

The strange part is even with a good 5 months before we move, I can already feel my inspirations changing. My motivations are more personal, more emotional, more organic - less production and selling focused. I know that in 5 months, I will have to take a 2 year vacation from my Etsy store - and create to survive versus creating to make a living.

Creating is not a want or a passing fancy - it’s a need and a compulsion. I can feel myself slipping into negative behaviors and thoughts when I’ve been away from creating too long. This isn’t to say that a break from creating isn’t also necessary…but too long and I feel lost.

Creating, I anticipate, in China will be a survival mechanism for me. I way to get out of my head and dive into myself all at the same time. It will be one of the last comfortable places left for me to go in a world of unfamiliar customs, foods, languages and people. Art as survival…sounds corny - but probably apt.

I will abruptly end this here as my head is already swimming again.

Dork. Just add fire.

I have become a dork…not the “ha ha…I’m a dork but really I’m a cool kid just calling myself a dork because it’s the hipster thing to do” kind but the “I am going to talk about the physics of glass work until you are all glassy eyed (no pun intended) and bored to tears” kind of dork.

As I was 5 minutes in to explaining to a friend why it was that his 8 pound maul head probably cracked in half…It dawned on me today that I am indeed, THAT kind of dork.

Working with glass and metal is fascinating - to me. They are both seemingly harsh and unforgiving mistresses…until a little heat is involved. It is the fire that transforms them into flowing, mailable, wonderful mediums for creating. Heat literally changes their structures - on a molecular level- allowing them to be molded and stretched and swirled and bent. As long as some love and care is given to return them to a stable molecular state - they can be whatever you want them to be, for a very long time.

There is something magical about metal and glass…there is more to it than what you can create with it - there is the WHY. Why does the metal need to be annealed? What IS annealing? Why do you need to cool the glass so slowly? WHAT is actually going on to the molecules that makes it hard/soft/mailable/workable/unworkable/brittle. 

As a girl who really was never all that interested in science class - I now find myself enthralled with the WHY and HOW of certain things and, more over, amazed that I can wield control over these things by just applying heat and patience.

Guess I’m a dork. Just add fire.

Letting Go. Sucks.

Generally speaking, I learn pretty quickly…however, there are some life lessons that really have to knock me over the head several times before I, begrudgingly, grasp them. Though, once the beatings have subsided, I do try my damnedest to remember them and live my life with them in mind. 

The fact that I cannot control other people - especially their emotions and/or the morphing of their feelings towards me or our friendship - has been a hard, and sad, lesson that I think, finally in my 30s, I have begun to understand and accept. It has been this knowledge of my own lack of control that has allowed me to give up this absurd feeling of responsibility for the actions of others around me. In this acceptance I have also been able to release myself from the knee jerk reaction to judge others for decisions they make.

This doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when I become attached emotionally to friends that drift into my life…only to drift out without my blessing. It’s hurts and feels terrible to have a relationship change that I am very attached and happy with…I feel like the little kid stomping her feet, red faced and yelling “No! You can’t leave…I want you HERE!”

But. In the end, no matter how much I agonize over the decisions that others have made…I have no control over them. No matter how much I judge, no matter how much I cry or beg or plead…I cannot change the emotions or decisions that they have made.

The only thing I CAN do is to accept what has been decided, make my own honest feelings be known and live in the knowledge that time eventually will heal my hurt. New friends will drift in to my life - or I into theirs and life goes on. There is a freedom I feel in letting go of a situation, or friend, when I finally have accepted that I have done all I can do in the face of a decision or a change in feeling that I had no control over.

I have also learned that this acceptance also requires me to give up any judgments I might make, any feelings of contempt I might have, any form of grudge I might hold - because, in the end…it doesn’t matter. It won’t change anything, and, if fact, the only person it ends up hurting is me.

Ego vs. Pride? Beats me.

Someone recently asked me what the difference was, to me, between pride and ego. I profess to be a very proud person that lacks an extended ego…but after looking up the actual definitions of pride and ego - it appears they are actually not as different as I would have thought and, moreover, almost the opposite of what I profess.

Pride: a high or inordinate opinion of one’s own dignity, importance, merit, or superiority, whether as cherished in the mind or as displayed in bearing, conduct, etc.
Ego: (1.) the “I” or self of any person; a person as thinking, feeling, and willing, and distinguishing itself from the selves of others and from objects of its thought. (2.) the part of the psychic apparatus that experiences and reacts to the outside world and thus mediates between the primitive drives of the id and the demands of the social and physical environment.

So, what is it that I claim then?

I think what I mean is that, in the end, life is pretty hollow - unless, for me, I have something larger than me that I am striving for. In this case, it would be some higher creative being or purpose. Huh? Yeah, I don’t know. All I know is that the only thing that really gives me pure and utter joy is the act of learning and creating something from nothing. Now, that doesn’t mean I claim to be original or unique - I know that, in the end, nothing is original. We all take inspiration from other sources, mill it around in our brains, and spew out something that, hopefully, has some representation of the original AND a bit of our own personality mixed in.

So, maybe this IS ego rather than pride. I am certainly proud of what I can imagine and produce - but it is for my own personal satisfaction. I AM working to be different from what my surrounding hold - from other people - so is this really ego at play?

Don’t get me wrong, I love compliments like the rest of us and strive to also make a living from my creativitiy…but THAT alone is not why I create. I create because it makes life not so hollow.

Friends come and go, family is not something you can choose or change…maybe that’s why creating is so important to me. In a world of things and people and emotions and situations I have NO control over - I DO have control of what I create. It is mine and mine alone.

Creating is life for me. It is the way I have found a way to differentiate myself from others (ego) in a way that I can find personal pride in - and in that differentiating and personal ego - it is also apparent that it is very lonely. But that is the rub - if it wasn’t - then it wouldn’t really be ego, would it?

Does this post make sense…probably not. But it has helped to write it down.

Intensity: The cilantro of life.

Cilantro is either beloved or hated. It’s true, I’ve met very few people who don’t either love it or loath it*. I think intensity in a person…is kinda like the cilantro of personality traits. It either creates a solid instantaneous friendship - or drives a wedge.

*(It’s actually a holdover from our less evolved days…and has to do with the brain keeping us from eating poisonous plants.)

I have never thought of myself as an intense person - or Dwight, for that matter. I don’t hold eye contact with others for an uncomfortable amount of time or invade personal space. I try not to talk over folks. I don’t think I make others uncomfortable - in fact, I make it a point to do the exact opposite during a conversation - to a self deprecating fault.

Those things above, to me, always signified intensity - never once had I considered the way I live my life or pursue my passions to exude “intensity”…however, it may. Even that, in itself, is not an issue really (frankly, I like the way I conduct my life). The issue for me is that I *might* make others wary of me, distrustful or uncomfortable with my friendship by being intense.

I don’t really waffle on things - neither of us do. The decision to DO is done in our heads - the rest is just logistical. I also care very little about failure as I know it’s all really just part of the process of learning. That’s not to say that I don’t fear mediocrity (I do, very much so) - but never failure. Failure isn’t even really failure, it’s just a step in the learning process.

I think a direct result of this intensity might be, I suck at surface-y conversations. Maybe that is what makes me/us unbearable to some - the lack of interest the weather or TV or mill rates or, sometimes even, current affairs. I just have SO much going on in my head that has been swirling around and around, gestating, so by the time I’m ready to talk about it…it’s a full blown IDEA or even something ready for action. Takes people off guard; maybe it makes them feel like I’m unstable in my decision making. I can only imagine the impressions many of my close friends (and family) have had when I say something totally out of the blue…and then the next week/month just do it.

I have no succinct end to this post. It’s just been a lot of thinking as of late…about what people think of me and if I care enough to make a change.

Can’t say that I will - for me cilantro is the most wonderful, fragrant, enchanting and addictive herb there is. It’s in my genetic makeup.

The Motorcyle Wave and Humanity.

There I am, driving to Belfast. A screaming kid in the back, exhausted, sleep deprived and in and all around foul mood. Two motorcyclists are on my ass - which is annoying because I can’t really see them if I stopped short…so, I’m annoyed. 

Then, like a beam of sunshine in an otherwise cloudy day…I see it. One of the ONLY things that will bring a smile to my face when in a funk - the wave. The obligatory and seemingly class overriding wave between oncoming motorcyclists.*

For me, this wave is like a faint glimpse of the humanity that I believe still exists in us all. It’s a seemingly random act that is happening between big burly Harley bikes (they give the best wave…the lean down low like you are adjusting your boot peace sign wave) and vintage bikes (like my husband’s). The make/model of the bike doesn’t matter nor does the rider - burly, skinny, dorky, no helmet, helmet and full bike gear…doesn’t matter. Somehow, the wave overcomes it all. It says “we might be different, but if you broke down, I’d help you” or “we’d probably hate one another but since you have the balls to ride a bike like me…you’re cool.”

All in all, it just makes me smile to know that there is something that might override all the shit that we face in society. All the assholes that won’t give you the time of day because they feel that they may or may not be better than you - all the people who wouldn’t hold the door for you if you had a handful of groceries, let you cut in front in line if you had a screaming baby in your arms, or help you change a flat tire on the side of the road.

It forces me to remember that I also need to do good things - for no reward or thanks. For no expectation that karma will come back around. Just because we are all people stuck here together and we should be good to one another.

Just because.

(*I’ve been told that some goldwing driving motorcyclists DON’T do the wave…but also that, as a woman on a bike, I could pull one out of them - which I intend to do on my bike.)

Inspiration or affliction?

I think the process of creativity and the notion of inspiration is, by nature, a very lonely affair. It’s wonderful, exhilarating and amazing…but my inspiration and creativity is something that can only be really understood or experienced by my brain.

When it hits me, whether or not it’s been building and gaining traction over time or like a bolt of lightning out of the blue…it’s the most wonderful feeling. It’s all consuming. I want to tell everyone so they can see what I see or experience what I’ve just experienced or to share the vision of the final product already constructed in my brain. It never works like that.

Reality is not that simple. I try to explain - and it all gets jumbled up on the way out. All the ideas try to flow out of my brain at once…and generally, they make no sense to anyone but me. It’s like having your throat paralyzed while all these thoughts and emotions swirling around…but you aren’t able to talk. There are only wild eyes and hand gestures. And then a lonely feeling knowing that you are the only one who understands it.

Wonderful, even in it’s loneliness - and something that I wouldn’t trade ever. But, lonely none the less.

The Artistic Split Personality

Few profound things have happened in my life. Usually its all very anticlimactic - lessons learned from trial and error, pain or happiness coming and going over long periods of time…not much gives me the a-ha moment that we all crave. However, yesterday, an unexpected personally profound moment came up and kicked me right in the shin.

I struggle with self worth on a minute by minute basis (as my therapist and friends are well aware) and as a designer and artisan/designer/whatever this can be an issue. If I mean to continue doing things I love, I have to also continue to put a price on that work and earn a living at it. This is a struggle…not the money, the setting a worth on what it is that makes me who I am.

While doing some web work for an artist that I truly love - this conversation came up. He is sucessfull and well known and is someone I respect very much - so, though, what I’ll explain below may not seem like much - it blew ME away.

Commissions can be wonderful - if the vision is shared. They can also eat you alive if it’s not really your vision or style or even taste. I struggle with this as someone needing to make a living. After explaining to Alan (the artist) my fear and guilt and self worth behind doing commissioned work he said…

“Look at it like this Maggi. You, right now, have many different people (personas etc, call em what you will) living in your body at the same time. When you do commissioned work - or any work that is for SOMEONE else - remember that what is happening is one of those people inside of you is doing that specific work to help the others survive. Doing the work so that the others can continute doing what THEY need. You couldn’t be a creative, explorative, innovative person without them all cohabitating.”

Huh. I love it. I never looked at it that way…but now I will. And now maybe I can stop beating myself up over it and remember that the bean counter, worker bee in me is there for a reason - to help all of us in here to be happy.

Artists…wicked smaht.

Apparently, my gramma was a hipster too.

Why am I so oddly put off by sites like these?

http://www.punkdomestics.com/

http://hipgirlshome.com/

http://www.tigressinajam.blogspot.com/

I personally LIKE all these things - I, myself, am a prolific canner, baker, sewer, knitter and all those other “domestic” traits. But some how, even though I’ve been personally producing these things for years (and been made fun of to no end), how come I am not considered “cool” or “hip” or…? How come I feel oddly and, all of a sudden, like an outsider because of these sites?

And really…what the hell make THIS so hipster? My grandmother and mother weren’t “hip” and in fact, women who have traditionally done these things were considered dutiful, old fashioned or even - God forbid - lame.

I am all for getting folks interested in cooking, preserving, appreciating and respecting where our food comes from…but, does it have to be presented in such a “I’m cool and you clearly suck” kinda way?

*…and yes, I know I’m clearly being overly sensitive about this. It just stuck me today because I, too, would like to figure out what to do with all my extra rhubarb - but damn if I’ll ever be “cool” because of it*

...like a fly on the wall between 2 amazing artists. →

Fantastic videos of a conversation between Paul Simon & Chuck Close on so so many things that make me feel so lucky to be who I am meandering down this beautiful road of creativity.