Learning = Inspiration: Mental Fireworks make good art

Hello, world,

Sorry for the long silence. I spent one week dealing with work issues, and last week not feeling well. To say the least, it’s been a crazy couple of weeks, and I’m glad to be back.

Sumer has officially arrived in Los Angleles, with the heat beating off the pavement, blazing hot car interiors, and afternoons spent in the pool. With the summer heat comes wonderful things like fresh fruit salads, sun dresses, beach buming, and friends coming to visit. And of course, let’s not forget, the all-important vacation! (mine starts in two weeks and I can’t wait!)

I got asked a very interesting question the other day that I thought would make a great topic for a blog post.

“Sassy, so why do you keep going to school and studying? Wouldn’t you get more done just working in the industry, sweetheart?”

Actually, I think the opposite is true, for me, at least. As a musician, I’ll never know it all. As a healer and yogini, to stop learning would effectively blocade my progress in my practice for myself and my patients. And as a person, I love change, and get bored with the status quo really quickly. I’m a gypsy at heart, and need to always be moving on, seeing what’s new, exploring and pushing my limits. It’s part of having butterfly as your spirit animal. :-d

Yep, it’s summer, and I am a student again. I’m taking a crystal therapy corse right now. I’ve already done my certification work, but felt like I could use training from a new perspective. Plus, things in my life have evolved, and additional education will greatly enhance how I function as a healer. It’s also nice to meet classmates--see who else is out there doing what I do, and how their techniques vary from my own.

I may be a yoga teacher, but I still have teachers of my own, and attend yoga classes on a regular basis. I teach, but I must also learn.

A degree doesn’t mean much in my field of commercial music, but I still want to go for my masters and doctorate soon, just to learn as much as I can about the subject I love. Learning, for me, equals knowledge. Knowledge equals growth, understanding, and an open doorway to advancement and new concepts.

We as artists never stop learning. Taking a color class, receiving updated training on technology, studying martial arts, reading, watching a documentary; in whatever way you can, fill your life with learning.

Time to re-visit that mental neighborhood I keep referring to. Bring a construction crew with you this time--neurons make great builders when given good building materials.

Have you ever noticed how downtown in your city may look kind of run down and crime-infested? Then city counsel approves an initiative to spend money on revitalizing the area. Suddenly, new buildings pop up; colorful streetlights replace the darkened broken ones. New trendy cafes push out the sleezy bars; apartments for high rent explode around the district; art galleries appear; and a few high-end shops open their doors. Slowly, a new crowd begins to trickle in. The bums, hookers and whinos who used to haunt these streets find other places to go. A few loyal troublemakers still hang around, but overall, the seediness of the area becomes artistic, rather than overtly dangerous. Somehow, the shabby shic appeals, rather than repulses.

Our brains work in exactly the same way. Without attention to detail, and a little time and yes, money, invested In our brilliance, we fizzle out. Before we know it, we’re a a few years out of school, and life got boring and monotonous. When you stagnate mentally, you kill off your artistic impulse. It feels easier to just do your daily routine, and not break it to allow inspiration in, or artwork out.

How in the world can you expect to create new, fresh, marketable art if you don’t feed your starving brain new ideas?

As artists, we can never know it all. There’s always a new fingering exercise I can practice, or a new color being released by your paint supplier. There’s a new computer program that makes graphic design a breeze, or maybe learning a foreign language allows you to incorporate new concepts and words into your lyrics. Even taking a yoga class and seeing the tall blonde in the mirror behind you can give you an idea for that character in that novel that’s been sitting dormant in your desk drawer. Go shopping and see what’s new this season. What’s in, and what’s out? Is it time to finally break out that leopard-print jacket and shoe design you’ve been hiding and start sending it to boutiques?

As you embark on your summer adventures, let yourself learn. You’ll be surprised at how easily learning opportunities just insert themselves into your path when you make room for them. It feels almost like they’re hunting you down, waiting just on the edges for you to give them the go ahead to manifest. Find opportunities to fill your mind with new things, and consider new ideas. The family that moved in across the street doesn’t speak English or decorate the house for the 4th of July, but maybe you can trade a backyard bbq with them in exchange for a lesson in foreign art or culture or language. Have patience for new concepts and people; they’re the artist’s best inspiration sometimes.

We tend to write, play, paint, and dance what we kno, what we’re familiar with. In your art this sumer, step outside the normal comfort zones you’ve drawn for yourself. I challenge you to break the boundaries, and learn to broaden your horizons and your expectations for your artwork.

And happy 4th of July! I remember seeing the fireworks as a kid, and this holiday is always a wash of memories and dreams for me. I love it!

When you see the fireworks explode across the sky in honor of our freedom tonight, close your eyes for a moment, and envision your artwork, your dreams, exploding up there for the world to see. Fireworks aren’t just pretty lights; they symbolize the pinnacle of our achievements. Put yourself up there across that sky in color, and feel what it will be like when you light up the world. Give yourself a match, and light the fuse.

Be safe, and have a wonderful weekend!

-Sarah

Artistic inspiration ambush: clean up your dirty mind!

Welcome back to your normally scheduled blog topic: The Artist’s Way... sort of. Can anything abou this blog be considered normal anyway??? Not when I’m at the keyboard… I haven’t blogged about the Artist’s Way for a while, so let’s get back to it!

Before diving in, I need to cover a few quick housekeeping items.

First, music biz Q&A part 2 is coming! Come visit on Friday for all the fun.

Second, I’ve had a ton of questions on crystal healing and Yoga, so starting next week, I’ll put up a whole new blog devoted to living yoga, crystals, holistic healing, herbs, and anything concerning mind, body or spirit. I’ll let you know the link.

Okay on to today’s blog, finding inspiration.

I don’t have a set formula for where or when artistic inspiration will strike me. I can be reading, watching TV, going through something in my life, joking with friends over dinner, hearing a talk at Church… All of these scenarios are full of ah-ha moments. Ah-ha moment: when the hand of inspiration reaches out and smacks you in the head and commands: “Make me! Create me! Give me life, a voice, a form.”

I’ve found artistic inspiration to be an equal-opportunity attacker with no compunctions or shame whatsoever. It invades my thoughts when I'm dead asleep, jerking me awake and plunging me into the midst of a new song before I even figure out where I am or what time it is. It steals my peace when I'm eating dinner or having a good phone conversation with a friend. "That would be a great lyric line!" pops out of my mouth at the most inopportune moments, followed by frenzied hunning and a mad dash for the nearest instrument. This is a familiar scene to all who know me--one they probably dread because it's usually followed by a long period of them being banished, and me hacking my way through the tangle of another tune or story.

But it likes to find me most often during my most private moments. Music walks right in while I'm stealing a moment of peace in the shower. I'm usually full of suds, enjoying a hot soak, and some solitude.. and the next thing I know there's this stranger sharing the shower with me, rocketing around inside my head going "Let me out! Let me out!"

"I didn't invite you in," would be my first response, but then again, that mental gate is standing wide open, even when I'm butt naked and dripping wet, running with a towel half-on for my digital recorder or a scrap of paper.

Anyone know if they've invented water-proof paper and pens yet? Not even the digital recorder can save me when the shower ambush occurs. Nasty, scandalous, dirty little sneaks, those ideas. And yet, so satisfying. :)

Whenever and wherever inspiration hits, it’s usually a head-on collision, an the only fatality is that of bordom. My pride might be injured, my mind might be pried open and lit up like Christmas, but you can bet that I feel better after I get it all out.

Keeping artistic inspiration locked up inside is, for me, like turning myself into a human volcano. Too many stifled ideas, and I promise you, Mt. St. Sassy will erupt and spew stuff everywhere with no regard for damages or bystanders. It’s far better to control the inspiration, direct and channel it, let it out all over paper instead of some poor friend’s unsuspecting ear.

I think it’s time we re-visit the Mental Neighborhood from a few months ago. Take a walk around your neighborhood and do inventory. Are there a few ideas you stuffed into hidey-holes, promising yourself you’d make time somewhere down the line to fix them up nd show them to the world. Is that a discarded idea I see being blown down the street like a piece of flotsome!

Grab a notebook and a pen (or a computer if you’re blind or a geek), and go clean up that internal neighborhood. Don’t litter by just dropping ideas all over the place, pick them up anddispose of them properly, onto a piece of paper, or nto a waiting instrument, piece of clay, canvas—whatever form you work in! The world likes new ideas, so throw yours out where they’ll have a chance to flourish!

The Battle of the Blurt Monster

I'm back to blogging after a weekend in San Diego spent with family. The occasion (a funeral for a relative) was sad, but it gave me the chance to spend time with family I haven't seen in years. My family is very spread out, and we try to reunite every couple of years for a big reunion in Cape Cod, Ma or Big Bear, Ca.

Anyway, I'm back home in Burbank, and was asleep, but an early-morning phone call got me out of my bed, and now i'm up tackling more work... and blogging. :-d For these twelve weeks, I consider blogging part of work, payment to be made to self. I've decided that nurturing my inner artist (ah the hippie/inner therapist in me rejoyces at those words) is a good investment.

Week one of the Artist's Way tackles several issues, and the first big one aside from morning pages and the artist date is... (maestro, fanfare please): ladies and Gents, may I present... the Blurt Monster! *horrid stench fills the room, and everyone present cringes in horror as an ape-like, grasping, slavering thing from your worst nightmares shuffles onto the stage, glaring malevolently about him from squinty watery eyes.* His modus operandi? Blurt, squish, roar. (Thanks, Seth for devising the mating call of the Blurt Monster... care to put eh Latin translation up? Like veni vidi vicci for the blurts?) :-d

(stage whisper): Blurt Monster is your subconscious if you're into psychobabble.

Blurts are negative things you say to yourself, especially during the process of creative expression.

Examples of blurts:
I just do this for fun, I'm not a professional
I'm not that good
I'm going to hurt people around me if I give all my time to art--it's selfish
I must have an ego problem if I think I can make something the world wants to see or hear
I'm too old/young to do this
So-and-so said I couldn't or shouldn't do this, so why do I still waste time with it?

Etc, Etc.

You get the idea. Remember that mental neighborhood I took you on a tour of in my first blog post? Blurts live there. They lurk in murky corners, waiting to see a pretty new virgin idea waltzing merrily down the street, alone and unguarded. They just love to pray upon unsuspecting young ideas, dragging them into the shadows and beating them until they're helpless, quivering lumps of fear and misery, with no life left in them. Blurts are ruthless, hungry, cunning brutes that feed upon destruction, and are hell-bent on keeping the streets they haunt dark and deserted, empty and unfriendly.

What do they get out of all this? Absolutely nothing--just another victim. They're not payed to destroy, nor are they after power, food, thievery or pleasure. They're just there to capture and torture good ideas.

Enter: The affirmation task force. These are mostly average little, ordinary-looking guys, over-worked, under-payed, a bit hard up and seldom responsible for the spectacular take-downs you see on the news. But they pride themselves on being a formidable force all the same. They valliantly face off against rampaging blurts, fighting with only there presence. They don't chase down the bad guys, go out in a blaze of glory, or carry ten zillion gadgets and gizmos on their belts to do their dirty work, they just rely on their constancy, and their existence.

Think back to chemistry or physics class. Yes, I know, we're all artists here. for some of us, saying we remember physics or chemistry is a big stretch. Some of us sat slouched in our chairs, daydreaming or doodling. And you were probably oggling that cheerleader in the front row with the dark hair, wishing you could--um--paint her portrait? Yeah, that's what they call it! A few of you were busy sizing up the nerd in the corner, wondering how much you'd have to shell out of your allowance to get him to do your history report, leaving you free to use your fake ID to slip into that bar downtown to jam with the new band and show them a few of your tunes...

"Hey, earth to artist!"

Oops. let's pay attention to the teacher for five minutes, shall we?

Ions are positively or negatively charged. A negative ion cancels out a positive ion. When the two come together, they unite, creating a whole of two particles--they bond. They can and do also repel each other. Where one exists, the other cannot be present. It has to leave. Just like our attention span...

It's like that with the blurts and the affirmations, except it's not a law of physics, it's something you have to work at. You are the employer of the affirmation force, but you are also the parent of the blurts. You don't punish the blurts, and their bad behavior and reckless habits prove that you have been more than lax in their discipline.

Yes, blurts are like teenagers. The longer they go unsupervised, the more trouble they find, but when you step in and set them straight by means of the blurt force and proper punishment for rule-breaking, they slowly begin to straighten up and fly right. Any good parent makes an effort to find out what goes on in a child's world... so let's take a look at the average evening in the life of a blurt.

The blurt monster is the ring-leader. One little blurt gets out on the street and reports back to the leader that a great victim approaches. Monster Blurt and his cronies all gather round, drooling and scratching themselves, sloshing their feet in the gutter puddles and spitting at the nearby boarded up shop windows.

and then they see her. Beautiful, vulnerable, alone, innocent. A fresh new idea, racing for the edge of the slum, eager to escape and make her way in the world...

The gang moves. They surround her. They appear out of the dark night like phantoms, just following at a distance, making chills race up Idea's backbone, making her brush hair out of her eyes and glance uncertainly over her shoulder. She trips on the uneven cobblestones and loses her footing for a moment.

That's the sign. they move in, closing ranks until she is encircled. She wrinkles her nose at the ripe odor of her attackers, and looks for a way to pass. They begin to tease and taunt her, calling her names, putting her down, all the while, tightening the circle. Then they begin their assault, kicking, punching, pinching, pulling hair... worse, much worse... if they are not stopped.

A patrol of affirmations turns the corner and sees the altercation ahead by the dim glow of captain Affirmation's flashlight. His stride becomes purposeful, and his partners fall into step behind him.

Captain A. jogs up the street, but in the commotion, none of the blurts notice the newcomer. Our good captain puts two fingers in his mouth, and whistles shrilly, causing several heads to turn, and a few pairs of piggy little eyes to widen in surprise and consternation.

"back off," Captain A. plants his feet, and stares down the nearest blurt. "What's your name, boy?" he asks the filthy street urchin.

"Name's Not-Enough-Money. What's it to you?" the boy scuffs his warn old shoe back and forth against a loose rock in the street in agitation, but his mutinous eyes lift to glare with defiance at the cop before him.

A slim young man dressed in worn jeans and a faded cap steps from behind Captain A, and holds up a badge. "Read it and weep, boys," he says slowly, pointing to the silver lettering on the badge. "My name's Sergeant Start-Small."

Not-Enough-Money's eyes widen in fear, and his blotchy face goes bloodless. He shudders violently, and raises a fist. behind him, a few blurts turn and shamble off up the street. Captain A. lets them go. He just doesn't have enough officers at the moment to catch all of them tonight. He'll settle for a few big ones. he wishes, not for the first time, that his force was bigger and that the budget allowed him to hire on more cops, and pay his officers more. Life on the good side is never a picnic.

Serg. Start-Small pulls out cuffs. He and Captain A. come forward and arrest the trembling perp. He begins to scream obscenities, but Serg. SS tapes his mouth shut and leads him away.

Captain A turns to the next scoundrel. "And your name?"

"Wher'm-I-gonna-find-the-time, you sodding piece of--"

Detective Make-Time flashes badge, pulls cuffs, and wrestles his opponent to the ground. Other officers find their targets and move in for the take-down.

The Affirmations finish their work and return to the station. Here's where things get dicey for our Captain and his men. They can't make many assault charges stick to these kids. You, as their indulgent parent will come down in the middle of the night to the jail and bail them out. They'll be back out on the prowl tomorrow, ready to make more trouble, unless you let what you've seen tonight motivate you. Now you know what really goes on; you're dillusions have been punctured. Take a good long look at the grim reality of the situation, and for the sake of the community, properly parent your children!

Meanwhile, the timid idea lies helpless where they left her, bloody and broken. Who will save her, or will she become an empty husk, a lifeless corpse left to rot there? Tune in tomorrow to find out.

Your assignment for today:

Your mission, should you choose to accept it: catch a blurt. Do a ride-along with Captain A and his team, and go out in your own mental neighborhood looking for your local blurt gang. See if you can apprehend them in the act of killing an idea. Take the blurt down with it's positive counterpart: I can'ts with I cans, I don'ts with I dos, I'm nots with I ams.

Don't forget to do the paperwork on your arrest when you get back to Affirmation HQ. File your report as a comment to me on the blog, or write it down wherever you keep your private thoughts, a journal, or your own Artist's Way notebook. Now that you caught your blurt (your thought) getting out of line, find some way to keep it from happening again. There might be a slip up or two, but go online, or talk to friends, and help your blurt with his homework. It keeps him off the street. Read an article about an 84-year-old grandmother publishing her first book, or a paralyzed college kid playing in the marching band. Listen to your friends' words of encouragement, and don't be afraid to let the blurt sit and stew in jail. It's called living with the consequences of your actions, and it's a mighty good lesson for a blurt to learn. Negativity only begets negativity, so make that wayward blurt-kid of yours mend his ways!

Good luck on your mission!

Welcome to the neighborhood!

I recently started reading the Artist's Way by Julia Cameron. Do I
believe there is a magical or spiritual cure for writer's block, or
flat notes, or squeaky bowing, or butterfingers on the piano keys? No.
What about those few minutes during every musician's practice time when things are not going right? Nope, no quick fix for that, either. You can't make your music be perfect, or your writing be stellar without putting in tons of hard
work... but I do believe there are things we can each do to further our artistic endeavors that have nothing to do with the time we spend at the instrument, or at the potter's wheel, or in the dance studio. I think a lot of what we bring to our art starts in our heads. That's where art goes from being a spark of inspiration to being a masterpiece, right? So if you aren't in the right frame of mind, how can your creation take wing? The Artist's Way is supposed to help re-build your creativity, teach you tricks to replenish your inspiration well, and open your eyes to the state of the relationship between you and your art.

I'm covering a lot of ground in this first post, but it sets the stage for the rest of the play. Hang on tight, and here we go!

Side note: I haven't figured out the formatting on blogger yet, so just pretend the posts look pretty and cleaned up until I get smart. Thanks.


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Mental neighborhood


Sometimes my head can be a bad neighborhood, full of criticism, back-talk, bullies, and what-ifs. Those what-ifs are good guys if you befriend them, but if they sneak up on you in a bad alley... look out. They will shoot first and ask questions later, take you down without a moment's hesitation if they can. Perception can be art, or nightmare, depending on who pulls the trigger and how you react. Interpretation can be your lover, or your mortal foe, depending on how you employ him. Inspiration runs like hell when the Censor emerges cracking his hairy knuckles and flicking a switch-blade out of his jacket pocket. Motivation is a ragged vagabond beggar, beaten down and raped by necessity and reality one too many times to get up anymore. Necessity rules with an iron fist, and his mobsters don't let anyone get away with anything without his nod. Yeah, it's that bad in my head, some days.

And yet, through the bleak grime coating the upper-stories of tumble-down dream buildings, you can catch a glimpse of sunlight glinting off of ocean waves. Seabirds wheel in a tangy fresh breeze, and once in a while, a desperate idea makes a break for freedom from the poverty-stricken streets, and winds up dancing in the halls of success!

So, I think I'm going to try to rennovate this ghetto neighborhood, and turn it into a haven for all things creative and beautiful. I think I'll put in a park with winding streams, copses of oak, rowan, ashe and apple dotting the center lush green lawns. I need a rose garden set up like a Japanese garden, wild, with bridges over fish ponds, and some waterfalls cascading over boulders, sending rainbows of light and sound dancing through the morning sunshine. oh, and I cannot forget the quiet haven to read books and drink tea with the moon casting long shadow-fingers across the pages and a fireplace alight with merry flames warming my feet. There would be a classy elegant downtown to walk through with little one-of-a-kind stores and cafes, churchbells singing in the mid-morning. children squeal and laugh as they dip their toes in the river across the street. The river has weeping willows along one bank, and boats skim across the surface in a brisk breeze. You can smell savory scents wafting from the bakery and the cafes, or warm musk from the opening door of the nearby fragrance shop. Music plays all the time, all kinds, all styles. There are instruments everywhere for you to touch and play. They welcome you like lovers, drink you in, wrap themselves around your soul, and give it back to you in song, changed, whole, redeemed. Welcome to my world.

I have a lot of work to do to turn my current mental "neighborhood" into that paradise. But at least I can envision what I want the final result to look like, both metaphorically, and realistically. Time to get started!

Your journey is your own, but this is my story as it unfolds. I haven't finished the book; I have no idea what's ahead, but I'm going to do the exercises she has listed in there, and blog about it here so you can follow and watch as I unfold my wings.

I intend this blog to be self-standing, meaning that you don't have to have read the book to uhnderstand my rambling, but it might help you as I refer to her terminologies such as "Censor," or "morning pages."

I encourage you to explore yourself and your art, too. I'll try to give one exercise (of my own design since I don't think it's right to steal hers, you can read her book and pay the copyright for that), every time I blog here. There are tons of artist way blogs online, tons of ideas and outlets for creativity. This is strictly my experience with the journey. I have not read any of these other blogs, for the express reason that I want to know my own journey, not live someone else's, or let it influence mine right now. If one of the exercises here looks like something you've done before, it might be very similar, but it's up to you to make it your own, and no, I won't steal from other blog or book suggestions without showing you where I got it, or telling you how I learned it.

Do some soul-searching before you answer. You can share the answers with me by commenting on this blog if you wish, or you can keep them under lock and key. But I'd love to hear your thoughts and ideas.

Today's exercise: Journey from your head to your heart
What is the state of your mental "neighborhood right now?" Whether you're a writer, a painter, a potter, a musician, a dancer, make the neighborhood of your head come to life for you in the hands of your art. Explore at your leisure. If it's dangerous, go armed with a few necessary weapons to save yourself should you come to harm. Chocolate, an open window with a breeze, a pot of hot ginger herbal tea, and good music in the background ground me to reality no matter how far into the dark backstreets I venture. give yourself something pleasant to come home to when your journey is over. Once you've finished, consider what, if anything, you can and should change in that neighborhood. Express that, too, in your art of choice. Paint or draw it, dance it, play it, throw it on the wheel, describe it like I did here. Share it with people if you want to, or keep it hidden in a bottom drawer somewhere, but keep the two visions in your head, and see if you can't start constructing the changes.