great expectations

I'm going to let you in on a little secret: things are not always how they appear.

One of the things the human brain does is notice patterns. It's how we think more and more efficiently. When we do this, we require fewer cognitive resources to process our world. Synapses get pruned. Automaticity increases. Our information superhighway starts rolling along at 75 miles per hour.

What happens when the pattern we have decided upon is mistaken or wrong? In a word: cognitive chaos. Yes, I know that's two words. I'm advocating for cognitive flexibility --think of saying "a word" and then giving you two as limbering up. 

Try this experiment we do with kids to teach them about expectations: 

• Without any witnesses, get a box of something awesome --chocolates, candy, whatever you want.
• Take the awesome stuff out. You can eat it all yourself if you want to be like that, but I would set it aside to hand out later so you don't get shivved.
• Replace it with something boring or decidedly not awesome --cockroaches, bills, whatever you want.
• Then find a person who hasn't observed you doing this replacement and hand the box to them.

Yes, it's the old can of nuts-springy snake trick, but at this point, people expect the snake, so you have to get creative to be effective.

Do you think the person you hand the box to will expect a treat or a trick? You have given them a box that promises something they like and then reneged on this promise. (Incidentally, this works in reverse as well, if you put something they like in a box of something they dislike, only they'll avoid it rather than open it up.)

Things don't always go as planned. Remember to keep those great expectations flexible while you're roaring along. Confront your own prejudices. Reconsider your assumptions. And have a great day --I haven't put anything unpleasant in that box. 

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?