the in-between

There is a place for technique.

There. I said it. I feel better now.

There is also a place for feeling. That is becoming more and more acceptable these days, so I don't feel it's as likely I'll get yelled at for that one.

There are people who are all technique. There are people who are all feeling. Most of us who make things --which, occasionally, we bravely call 'art' --find ourselves somewhere in the area in between, wandering around.

When it's all about technique, you start to lose your understanding of your own and others' humanity, I think. That is when we like everything uniform and efficient and clean and, frankly, perfect. Perfection doesn't exist. In this worldview, whatever you make will never be good enough unless it is technically perfect, which is impossible. People of a technical mindset tend to be linear thinkers because it is easier to isolate parts of the whole and address each part individually. The attraction to this way of doing things is it keeps everything ruthlessly simple. It has direction without purpose.

When it's about feeling, you start to lose direction and perspective --eventually, you start to lose your understanding of your own and others' humanity, I think. That is when nothing matters but your feelings and bathing yourself in them. That is when we like everything burning and torn down and built up in our image and given a patina of gold mined at great cost. People of an emotional mindset tend to be lateral thinkers because it is a function of an internal state, and therefore, whatever is felt is addressed. The attraction to this way of doing things is it requires only reaction, so there's not a lot of advanced prep work required. It has purpose without direction.

I think the in-between area is the right place to be --at least for me, that is where I feel most comfortable in the things I make. In writing and in visual art, I appreciate understanding technique, and sometimes, the structure helps facilitate what I'm working on. It gives me a framework to work within. In writing and in visual art, I appreciate feeling as well, particularly as this is more my natural state of being. I am a highly-emotional person (although I'm used to keeping those feelings tucked away), and it comes out in strange ways in the things I am working on.

I am content with being somewhere in between, and I work on both; technique is easier to work on, but I'm also working on getting in touch with my feelings more and understanding what drives the impulse to create and what I'm drawn towards ( I know what I like, but I'm not always sure why, and that's okay). By learning in both these areas, it should follow that what I learn shows up in what I make, and I find that an exciting thought.

Where do you fall? Are you more technician? More dramatic? And how is it working for you?

chasing wild geese

It really has been like a wild goose chase lately, the creative path I'm stumbling down that seems to exist in parts and be overrun by weeds and other deterrents elsewhere. Oddly enough, I think I may be built for wild goose chases.

I've read a lot by people about the need for focus and organization when chasing these geese. The thing is, geese are a creative bunch. They don't fall in line simply because I tell them to. To be honest, my executive functioning is such that, if they did fall in line, I'd have a harder time catching them. But this off-roading I've been doing lately --it feels right.

I am writing this for those people who are made to chase geese.

Do not --I repeat, do NOT --under any circumstances feel guilty for being a goose chaser. Do not feel less worthy. Do not feel abnormal. When you look at creatives over history, a lot of them were goose chasers. I am a goose chaser, if you need a contemporary who knows what you are going through. My publication credits? Two short stories. Novel started going on two years ago and not completed for NaNoWriMo. Lots of starts, few finishes.

But part of creative endeavors is being responsive and reflective. Goose chasers are very good at this. We are not there to check off lists. We regularly look at the way things are and ask, is this working? We don't fall in line --our geese don't, and we follow after them, don't we?

I have found that I do best when I find one goose in the bunch. I have to watch them a bit. I have a lot of stops and starts to answer for, but once I stop and watch, I find my goose. My goose, I am finding through my most recent creative attempts, is one I hadn't paid much attention to at first. It wasn't the fattest or the one that ran closest to me. It was the one that interested me the most, for whatever reason. Finding that goose has meant I have a greater ability to pay attention and be consistent (to the extent that I've gladly been spending what hours I can on it because I am focused). I am making lists, so you know it's serious.

What's my goose? It is a goose that incorporates many of the things I love: words, visuals, fun, creativity, humor. It's probably a very awkward goose, but it's my goose and it makes sense to me and, to misappropriate Robert Frost, it has made all the difference.

And in case you weren't sure, "goose"? It's a metaphor for purpose. And the organization and diligence that are tricky come along when you have a solid, concrete reason for the chase.

Enjoy your creative pursuits and go get some geese. Or butterflies ...or whatever it is that gives you purpose. Enjoy.