Beyond Ego

“When it is working, you completely go into another place, you’re tapping into things that are totally universal, completely beyond your ego and your own self. That’s what it’s all about.” ~Keith Haring

I have read and reread the above quote from the late Keith Haring. It supports me when the creative process gets moving at a pace beyond thought. It sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? To be so deeply immersed in something that the ego is relinquished. You know you are in “the zone”, that place that can make athletes, champions, and artists, groundbreakers. I’ve been there this week, but let me tell you, it’s not an all-exhilarating ride. What Haring doesn’t say (well, it’s only 2 sentences) is that you must give up control, but not for a sense of freedom. Let's look at the scene: I'm in my process, it is my work, it’s going to have my name on it, but I have to surrender control . . . . to the materials. I must let the materials lead me just as a partner leads me in dance.

         In Freeing the Creative Spirit I say that in the creative process you must make something happen, then let something happen. I have probably said that a thousand times to students, and another thousand to myself. It isn't an easy thing to do. 

Can you see how the canvas seems to be becoming a reptilian creature? I have expanded the use of snakeskin, and by yesterday, I was afraid of the darn thing! I know that Keith Haring, Francis Bacon, and so many great artists have said that relinquishing control is an essential requirement of the process, but it is absolutely counter-intuitive when it really happens. While I may be making a courageous creative leap, I suddenly fear failure and humiliation (even though what is happening is behind a locked door, and I am alone).

So, what pushes me forward? What fuels me?Maybe if you look closely at this image you can see it: The skin, polymer, wire and paint a developing a vivacity that fills me with joy. The surface is alive. It is beautiful and sensuous, and I love it completely until that moment when I step back and feel doubt. (Maybe this has happened to you with a person?) Doubt is natural, too. It is another tool. I have to read my doubts as the work progresses. I sell myself nothing. When the painting is finished, the whole thing should breathe the vivacity. If it doesn't, I've failed. I may know that it looks hideous at the moment, but that's okay, because the piece is not finished yet. The rest of the environment does not yet support the new addition. 

            I make the only decision possible at this time: do more! Keep going! If I’m creating a monstrosity, I will keep at it until it is not a monstrosity. Besides a monstrosity would be better than a "pretty painting". It should fascinate or repel the viewer. Seduce or threaten. There is only one thing I will allow it to be in the end: Art, good Art.

            I caress the canvas. I fall in love with one isolated place. Then I discover another nice place on the surface. I see one place where the colors have come together beautifully. I breathe deeply, and walk away for another day. "Let it dry."