Lots of work these days, complete with deadlines and even (Oh Yeah!) compensation. More than ever, I’m cultivating the flow state — the zone — that state of consciousness which allows us to leave the bulky harness of the here-and-now, and move into unity with the work itself. In this space, for me at least, solutions flow into the process seemingly without any effort on my part. In fact, from this magical place, I am my most rational … my most productive … my most creative. Time vanishes. The dots connect themselves. The output is peak performance. And the input is … what?
The only word that seems to fit is love. When I pour creative attention into a project, I feel love for the inputs — the process — the outputs — and the outcomes. This is not that clingy, anxious sort of love … like a relationship gone wrong. It is the exact opposite. I’m sure you’ve been there … in sports or work or play … everything in the world makes perfect sense … it is so easy — like knowing without learning.
With so much work to do, seems best not to leave this “in-the-zone” business to chance. One researcher determined that there are three conditions required to enter and maintain the flow state:
clear goals
immediate feedback
optimum skill-to-challenge ratio (He postulates that 4% is best — meaning that the challenge level is just slightly beyond our perceived competence, thus the pull of the just-out-of-reach goal keeps us in the zone.)
This is the perfect storm of portrait painting: a known objective, a process that always tells you where you are, and the drive of an ever-haunting fear … “all those other times were just a fluke … you’ll never be able to do that again … what were you thinking … is it too late to get a real job!”
One time in Asheville I was hanging around with some artist friends, and James, who was forever on the hunt, was trying to attach himself to a lovely woman clustered with her tribe at the other end of the bar. His usual pickup line, “I am an artist,” didn’t seem to be moving this clearly very bright woman. She came back with, “ok … but are you a serious artist?” His response was pretty good: “If you go out with me, I promise I will never paint your dog.” Most artists I know, the good ones at least, have an internal line in the sand. For me, until now, that contemporary-potrait-painter-line has been on the SERIOUS side of this: little girl on a porch swing with kittens and flowers … under no circumstances would I go there … to the Hallmark movie of portraits. So naturally, that’s exactly what I’m painting right now. And here’s the scary part — it was my idea, not the client’s.
The background flowers for “Hanna and Phoebe” are pink azaleas. From memory of course, I’ve been rendering highly stylized mounds of Italian yellow ochre-bohemian green earth-sap green-permanent green leaves, neutral gray n2-brown pink bark, and permanent rose-brilliant yellow extra pale flowers. Cerulean blue specks of sky peeking through. To me, the work feels like that sweet azalea sigh southerners know so well … wandering around every spring enjoying the fresh, home-grown reds, and lilacs, and yellows. and mandarins, and pinks, and whites. And there’s the little thrill of spotting a favorite variety … like Golden Retriever owners giddy from stumbling across other people’s Goldens.
As I’ve written so many times in this blog, I love the work … every bit of it …. even the hunger. Only now something is different — I’m feeling less conflicted about it. My inner Don Quixote’s sanity is defined by the love codified within the quest itself.
Given the outcomes and the alternatives, to love is the ONLY rational act.
