Bless Jerry Saltz for keeping the cultural landscape lively. His Facebook page and passionate following are legendary and talked about everywhere (and sometimes with a derision that smells to me like rank envy.) His blend of the personal with a genuine advocacy for art and artists is unique in the high visibility cultural critic realm. I’m delighted by his invention of this unique hybrid position.
I recently wrote a response to a question he posed on Facebook about the real day-to-day life of the artist. My post, called Wisdom from the Art Tribe, included some of my favorite responses to that query. (At last count, Saltz’s question has garnered 445 comments.)
That post is now my go-to site when I am feeling discouraged. The range and abundance of wisdom (and honesty) that appeared in that exchange still amazes me.
Saltz’s latest question asks about the differences between writers on deadline and artists. As always, it is written in his signatory style, overly capitalized and freely punctuated:
What DO YOU artists do when the demons come?! Do you walk; drink; smoke cigarettes; masturbate; phone calls; computer; eat; cry. What? I’ve NO IDEA what yr. team does. WEEKLY CRITICS work on deadline so there’s no time for demonic possession. The ONLY thing we can do is say, “Shut the fuck up you fucks” & get right back to… work. But you artists! What DO you do when the demons speak?
With 440 (and counting) responses, the range of therapies offered is extensive. Some respondents took issue with the very use of the word demon since its connotations are tainted with religiosity. But we all know what he means, be it named or nameless.
For me it is not about demons but more about drying out. The absence of moisture, that’s the state I fear most. Like sex, an unlubricated studio session just can’t take you where you want to go! Being vigilant about staying in the oleaginous, that’s my best drought defense.
That, and patience.
Do you have the patience to wait until your mud settles, and the water is clear? Can you remain unmoving until the right action arises by itself?”
–Lao-tzu
***
From Still Water (The River Thames, for Example), by Roni Horn
Well, oleaginous is good (butter, for example!) but just plain juicy is nice, too.
Sometimes you need to drill deeper in the dry well, and sometimes you need to start fresh. One of my ways of getting into juicier territory in the studio: The Thousand Marks. Grab some heavy paper, a board, a painted-over old canvas, whatever you like. I often like to use a “failed” or abandoned work on paper, and mark right over it. Then get something to mark with: oilstick, hunk of graphite, soft pastels, whatever. If you’ve got a big ground to work on, a tennis ball dipped in sumi ink is fun. And just get started mindlessly making marks. But count. No stopping until you make a thousand marks. Try it.
A writer who has met more deadlines in life than I knew could exist, I appreciate Saltz’s comments.
Now that I’m “retired” and doing more creative writing (I’ve always thought those two words together are redundant), as in writing poetry, I try to write every day, not always with intent to complete anything, just to get words out. The words, though, inevitably do lead to something and then something more.
I think of having seeing “Red” when I read that line about demons. Rotko certainly had his (beyond the alcoholic fuel he relied on). At one point in the play, the painter’s assistant tells me to just shut to f… up and paint. And then there’s that marvelous point that finally comes with the priming of the canvas. That epitomizes for me what you do “when the demons speak”.