Are we working or not working here? And why does that word bother an artist so much?

Haunting catch phrases that can mess with an artist ~ by Monica Lee Rich

Jerry Saltz: "If you are an aspiring artist: nothing happens if you are not working. But anything can happen if you are." 

Henry Miller: "When you can't create, you can work." 

These two quotes appear to delineate a space of creating and working 🤔 Are they the same thing? Are they two different things? Where does inspiration fit in? Is it in the creating part or the working part? Which of those is where "IT" happens, that mysterious flow, where the magic happens? 

Sometimes we think the actual language around things doesn't matter, and possibly it doesn't. Still, the nuances and intended meanings behind catchphrases that seem to haunt any artist's world can either aid our frame of mind or plunge us into guilt. (Which, as a general rule, has never managed to help me in any form.) 

So what do YOU believe? Because the premise of what you base your creative path on will make all these statements accurate or not.

I had an exciting opportunity to have lunch with the new President of Rhode Island School of Design while seeing Michael's art at The Biennale in Venice, Italy, last April.  

"I am a poet," she told us. This instantly made sense as I sunk into her speech patterns' beautiful, easy rhythm. Then she added, "I haven't written any poetry in some time though," indicating that her new role in academia filled her time. But she said, "I am storing it all in my head, taking everything in for another time." 

This comment made me ponder my beliefs further. Storing details. Was this avoidance? Was this brilliant? After all, a poet is the master of assimilation followed by a beautiful edit. 

Was the lack of "working on poetry" just a fact of her daily existence or part of her process? But what if IT, the flow, and the inspiration are not stored and ready when that “other time” comes?

I could easily argue that my morning walks spent pondering the cherry blossoms in my neighborhood is a "working act." Still, if Jerry Saltz sees me, it certainly may look as if I am not working, especially if he sees me stop for coffee along the way. I could hear his voice as he leans out of his car and shouts, "Get to work, Monica!" With some effort, I could even explain that flying to Rome to see Bernini's sculptures in person again is an artist's way of "working." Just absorbing the entire atmosphere of where these works of art even reside seeps deep into my psyche that I mine until the next time I step in front of a canvas. 

But in the same vein, I am greatly convicted in my gut as I read, "nothing happens when you are not working," and it feels like a big ouch. I know this is true for me, and I need to pick up a tool and start making marks. And this is because the more practiced I am in my hand movements, the more I can transcribe the emotions from my walks and visits. 

It rings true when you read the rest of Jerry's story of existing as a long-haul truck driver for years because he was too afraid to write. 

You see, "gathering inspiration" was a state I had personally hidden behind before I understood that I needed to gather and execute rapidly, or I could lose the muse. 

So NOW I need to "not work to work" because existing within the walls of my studio where I should be working 8 hours a day (according to Alex Katz) isn't the fuel I need to create. I digress, but possibly this is why he painted over 250 portraits of his wife, she was right there. He never needed to leave his place so 8 hours in his studio worked for him!

I am still a hunter and gatherer, but it isn't the stall tactic it used to be. I absolutely love to generate ideas intellectually. Need an idea for a project, I'm your gal! But, NOW I know that my work gets better and better if I stay in "IT" instead of constantly looking for the new. And "IT" can frighten me," ~the thin space ~ IT feels like an occupied space like I am not the only one there, it's a resonance with something beyond me~ that feeds my soul, spirit, and intuition.

"It" makes me just nervous enough that when I feel it and know I am in "it," I quickly step out, pick up my phone, make another cup of coffee, or compile a list of to-dos. As I exit this "flow space" to do these seemingly simple actions, I feel the pull of an almost sorrowful whisper saying, "stay, please stay."

Maybe I need to post a sticky note somewhere where I can see it that reads: