NOT as a life mantra for me, perhaps.

Be Bold. Don’t Apologise.

But as an art mantra …. it struck me today, that maybe I can do that or, at least, aspire to it.

There is too much being sorry; not enough boldness, courage or conviction, behind what I do. Maybe that comes across, maybe it doesn’t. But it’s there.

Saw Sidney Nolan’s Ned Kelly series today at the Geelong Art Gallery. So much boldness. So much colour and strength. And no apology.

So, let’s see what happens.

Kirsten

Just for the record, it took me a long time to work up the bravery to actually post this!!! Hahaha!!

When it comes to creating artwork or writing a poem or singing a song there is often that moment of realisation that things are not necessarily on track. It can be a minor moment; can be as part of a draft or a study or practice in which case it is a great learning opportunity; or, in a different situation or after a different amount of investment, it can feel much more major

I so often try to persevere. Someone once told me that art, indeed creating in general, is all about problem-solving and I take that to heart (sometimes I feel I’m getting pretty good at identifying the problems and not so good at coming up with solutions!). Today, though, I hit a problem and decided not to persevere. I waited for the ink to dry, folded the large piece of paper into smaller portions and tore it into bits – not angrily but as a measured and considered decision. It was quite cathartic.

So what’s the tipping point? I’m not sure. In this instance I didn’t like what was happening, There were enormous flaws that I couldn’t see past and the whole thing was entirely unattractive. I’d lost interest and moved on emotionally. An open-and-shut case, really.

But I think the measure for me, now that I write and think about it, is whether or not abandoning a work is going to feel like you are opting out simply because it got hard. Have you sold yourself short? Have you chosen to avoid rather than attack? I realise now that my decision needs to be based more on whether I’m being true to myself and less on what is actually happening in the painting.

Since turning my disaster into (large and potentially damaging) confetti I have started two new works; a reminder that there is always the ‘next one’, and the next one, to carry you onwards. They are both at a difficult stage but fall into the category of fight, not flight. And, I am discovering, that’s where the adrenalin cuts in!

Until later,

Kirsten

I’m lucky enough to be sitting in a little café in Adelaide having a large latte and idly watching my fellow café-goers. I’m wondering what they all do outside of this place that enables them to be coffee-ing on a Monday morning. I imagine it would be a fascinating collection; an enormous range of jobs, experiences, wisdom, home situations, interests and passions.

I notice two young women sharing two types of luscious cake and it strikes me that you don’t often see people eating cake in a cafe looking sad. Is that because of the delight that comes with almost illicit treating? Is it like the ‘naughty nap’ or the ‘sneaky read’? Is it like the art materials that weren’t strictly necessary or, even, like the large latte on a Monday morning that is definitely not required but very nice?

I think of those who, for whatever reason, can’t do this, on a Monday or otherwise, and try to be as aware and grateful as possible for how fortunate I am. As I head from here to my studio to play with paint I’m hoping that an opportunity crops up today that will allow me to repay a little. If I keep my eyes open I’m sure to see something.

Not that any of this is about art and you certainly didn’t sign up for that. Still, I had to get it off my chest and you are the listeners. Maybe that’s your wonderful contribution for today. Thank you!

Until later,

Kirsten

P.S. Later:

It took less than five minutes …..

Shared history is what makes it possible to take up a conversation with a person after ten, twenty, thirty years as if no time has passed at all. It is a precious thing.

So I got thinking. Perhaps it is possible to establish the merest of shared histories with a viewer as they look at a painting – something that both parties feel and take away with them. Does that act of creativity and that act of looking at a work inspire the glimmer of a bond that will last? Perhaps there will never be a conversation. Even more unlikely is a face-to-face meeting. But is there a momentary connection, a shared communication for just a short time, that will endure in the memory?

Until later,

Kirsten

I have set up a temporary art studio in friends’ spare space in the Adelaide Hills. I feel like some latter-day Heidelberg-ian painter with my out-of-the-city location, surrounded by bush (more English-style in this case) and other good things of the natural world. I’ll travel out there each day to invest some quality time in my art.

My friends have a dog who meanders around the garden between pats and, at times, lies outside the studio door, taking her part in the creative process. It’s lovely to have daytime company.

A change of location is bound to be inspiring and my working stamina will improve as I’ll be obliged to ‘keep at it’ while I’m out there (no wafting off to do something else if it gets hard!!!). So the charcoal is out, the ink is splashing around and, this morning, it was very clear to me why I pursue this path. So much delight.

Kirsten

I have a nephew who is a bass trombonist of some potential. We were talking the other day about making a career in the spirit of the great James Morrison. My nephew laughed, said that would be ‘amazing’ but that he was probably ‘running out of time‘. My nephew is just seventeen.

So, I wonder, where does that leave the rest of us?

Until later,

Kirsten

Let’s face it. I’m procrastinating now. There is far less emotional commitment involved in writing my blog than actually getting out the art materials and risking failure. So, I’ll make it short!

In previous posts I’ve talked about David Kadavy’s book The Heart to Start: Stop Procrastinating and Start Creating. A few more thoughts about that today.

We tend to get caught up in the requirement that things need to be done in a certain order which, in the real world, is sometimes true. In the creative world, though, perhaps we can be less rigid. On occasion, the ‘first step’ can be daunting, or not very engaging, and this can stop us doing anything at all. Kadavy calls this the Linear Work Distortion – the feeling that we have to start at the start and follow through in a particular progression.

How much more liberating to grab the bit that seems the most exciting and build momentum so that the other sections/tasks become easier. But, I thought to myself, an undercoat (as the name suggests) DOES need to be applied to a canvas before you paint your picture ….. but what would happen if it wasn’t? What new means of expression could be unveiled by a reversal? Disaster? Exciting results? Sounds like a good risk to take!

If you’re allowed to pick up a book and flick through to see what’s in the middle before you commit, if you’re allowed to dive in and write the guts of a poem first, if a painting can be broken down into a random selection of fun bits, how much more likely would we be to get going??!!

Speaking of which, I had better do just that, but let me find the thrill in it and begin there!

Until later,

Kirsten

It doesn’t always work, of course. Obviously every painting can’t be a masterpiece, every poem a world-shaker, every live performance flawless but sometimes I need reminding.

I went to my monthly watercolour class the other day. I go because I love it. The teacher is marvellous, it’s a great discipline and finesse is something I could do with more of. But, in the true nature of ‘one of those days’, it was like I was applying clumsy paint and random amounts of water with two thumbs and a touch too much haste.

The result was non-descript but blimey I learned a lot. That’s what keeps me coming back. I try, when it’s frustrating (and disheartening), to focus on the longer term and the slow growth of the sum of my artistic skills.

Ha! I sound so wise! Nothing could be further from the truth. This blog is here to put into words what I need to remember on the days when it isn’t easy (when the proverbial beer is warm and the skittles won’t stand in their neat little row), to remind me of those things that people tell us but we really need to battle towards for ourselves. When we find them perhaps we’re a LITTLE more at peace at those times when we stuff up?

But, peace or no peace, I’ll be back to it next month because I love it. Because I love it.

I went to a concert the other day. There were performances by two solo artists before the headline group and those two shows got me thinking about performing and what makes it work.

The first guy was an up-and comer. His music was great – I knew it already – and he was certainly having a good time and putting enormous amounts of energy into his art BUT there was something about his performance that stopped me labelling him as a ‘great performer’. The second act, however, had something extra. He WAS a great performer.

So what was it, I wondered, that set the two apart. The first artist, while having all the energy and passion in the world, seemed to be so wrapped up in his work that I felt he was doing it all for himself. The second performer – same energy, same passion –  had a connection with us. There was genuine eye contact, despite the 20,000 strong crowd, there was a sincerity, a letting of us into the world he inhabited, both on and off the stage. In short there was communication WITH us, not just AT us.

So, what’s the connection with the visual arts? How does performance affect a tangible object? It seems to me that there has to be a sincere desire to communicate in our arts, some sort of giving to our audience, some sort of ‘eye contact’, some sort of sharing of a little bit of us. I’m not suggesting we create, necessarily, what an audience wants us to, but we should have something to convey, be that appreciation, beauty, emotion, challenges or questions.

Food for thought, certainly.

Kirsten

So often (so often that it’s embarrassing) I think about making art but don’t because ‘I haven’t got time now’, or ‘it’s not worth starting at the moment’ or ‘my brain’s not geared up for painting’. In my head, creating seems a big commitment that is too large to take on in a short space of time.

David Kadavy calls this Inflating the Investment – seeing a task as too large and consequently opting for ‘low commitment things’ instead (Instagram, Facebook, checking emails, absently fiddling around ….).

He likens it to the times we pick up a book and feel committed to reading the whole thing, or starting at the start, or taking in every word and, therefore, put it down.

So don’t! Start where you like. Just read a bit of it. Don’t expect to do a complete. Same with painting and drawing. Dabble, if necessary, but do it in your art. Start something somewhere but don’t expect to finish. Don’t make the task larger and more daunting than necessary.

Maybe this is universal knowledge that I’ve missed out on (apologies from the born-again creator) ….. but it will surely change the face of my days. Doing nothing is fine if it’s a conscious choice. Wasting time because it seems too hard to start is, for me, demoralising.

So no longer! A new way of thinking and a new approach. Thank you, David.

Kirsten

Oh. My. Goodness. I have just been to an exhibition of work by one of my favourite artists, Angus Nivison, an abstract painter living and working in regional NSW and represented by Utopia Art Sydney.

I feel uplifted by the sheer gorgeousness of the works. Doesn’t always happen for me at exhibitions but it did this time. Wow. If you google Utopia Art Sydney you can see some photos – not that they give ANY sense of the majesty, but maybe you will enjoy them.

Kirsten 

I’ve been reading a book by David Kadavy called The Heart to Start: Stop Procrastinating and Start Creating. I tend to get overcome by what Steven Pressfield, another writer on creativity, has called resistance and Kadavy has given me a few new thinking processes to combat that.

The first of those is to avoid thinking on too grand a scale about what needs to be done. Kadavy calls this the Fortress Fallacy. Obviously this sort of thinking can be so daunting as to prevent one from starting at all. Better to look for the smaller steps and start there. ‘Step at a time’ they always say. ‘Break it down.’ I tend to start working with some grandiose vision and the job of realising it sometimes seems insurmountable. Better to grab an accessible bit and go with that. And, surprise! You’ve made a start after all!!

I’ll tell you more about my other new thinking next time ….. but go on! Read the book yourself. There’s lots in it.

Until later,

Kirsten

I love to paint. I love to write. So …. a blog about my artistic journey? Give it a whirl, I say! Not sure who will be interested and I’m certain others will have said it all before, and more eloquently, but I am in the mood for new things …. so WELCOME!

I am Kirsten Johnston, an artist from South Australia. I describe myself with that term that always makes me think of new butterflies: ’emerging’. I paint and draw quite a lot, sell sometimes and exhibit whenever possible. It’s a great deal of fun, hard work and frustrating at times, but my greatest artistic joy comes from seeing a finished piece on the wall.

There’s a range of styles that comes out of my studio using a variety of media. If you feel like checking some of it out, try my Facebook page, Kirsten Johnston Arts, or on Instagram under the same name. Meanwhile, I’ll feel my way into this blog thing and talk to you again soon.

Kirsten