Coffee, Art, and the Ability to Improvise

I did it. I did the thing. I put nine original pieces of my own creation on display at a local coffee shop. This may seem trivial to some, but for me- it’s still quite unbelievable.

I nearly backed out. I was 99% sure I was going to actually. I did back out the day I had originally planned, Saturday- with the ingenious excuse of bad weather. The next day they were closed, so that left Monday. I told as many people as I could to ensure that I would not be a coward and pretend like I had never applied in the first place. It worked.

I arrived after work, nervous as hell. Being my perpetually unprepared self, I had not thought to check the logistics of well, anything. I was only able to hang four of my nine pieces because I had not examined their hooks beforehand, nor had I thought to bring my own. The other five are framed- and rather small, so no wired backs. No, they are in your average run of the mill black picture frames that you would display a photograph in. Needless to say, the hooks the place had were not compatible at all.

After realizing this mortifying truth and feeling like everyone in the coffee shop was staring at me (they probably didn’t even notice me, to be honest), I decided to cut my labels and leave. Yes, you read that correctly. I was so unprepared I hadn’t even cut my labels yet. Luckily for me I have this handy little paper cutter so I didn’t have to worry about my unsteady hands with a pair of scissors. That would have been tragic, I assure you. So with that, I quickly cut my labels, hung them, and got the hell out of dodge.

The rest of the night, I racked my brain, trying to come up with a solution. I was happy that I had the guts to stick around and hang what I could that day, but how the hell was I supposed to get the rest of my pieces up? I wish that I could say the improvisation was of my own doing, but I have to give credit where it is due. My step dad is the hero of this story. While I was extensively searching the web on how to wire the back of picture frames made out of plastic, my step dad had the epiphany I wanted to cry over. It’s a simple solution, really. I’m shocked that I didn’t consider it to begin with. The answer to any artist trying to figure out this stupidly simple problem is this: Command Strips. Mother. Fucking. Command Strips.

Since I was working with a grid wall, I obviously could not attach the command strips to the wall as is normally done. Instead, I put them on the back of the frames, with the hook pointed downward. I doubled up on each one for extra security, and wa-la. The perfect, cost efficient solution that does not break the bank. Especially if you already have a butt load of them lying around like we did, so $0 were spent.

I tested out my step dad’s ingenious plan the next day, again after work. It worked like an absolute charm. Finally all of my pieces were on the wall, some sans label because I did not take the time to cut the rest out the previous day because I am at heart a total slacker. I arranged everything the way I wanted, cut the rest of the labels and put them in place, and stepped back to see my accomplishment.

It still feels impossible. It’s a step in the right direction. I’m not sure where I’m going, but damnit I did something. I did something I have dreamed about doing for years and never had the courage to do. I have done it, finally, and I feel this yearning sense for more. I will go at my own pace, I will not overwhelm myself, but I will not stop. I only have one life to live, and I am going to fucking live it. I hope that you will do the same. Dare to live, like I am trying to do.

Pushed to the Proverbial Edge

I tend to speak in the theoretical on this blog- I have yet to tell an actual story about a specific event in my life. I focus on an idea that I have had, maybe a quote or problem I sometimes struggle with or fixate on. Today, that changes. Because today, I have turned a shitty week into a nervous and exciting one for myself.

Everyone has that encounter at work at some point- the one where someone blows up at them for no reason at all. This was that week for me. I won’t go into super specifics because it was petty bullshit drama that should have been left back in high school, but I will give you the gist. When you get a mid twenties girl trying to help a mid fifties woman, the woman tends to not take kindly to such things. Hence, the explosion that happened on yours truly.

I was still reeling from it the next day and decided I needed a break- a ‘treat yo self’ moment if you will. Naturally, I went on my lunch break to the local coffee shop because let’s face it, there’s no better cheap treat than a not so cheap more-sugar-than-coffee coffee.

I’m not sure what came over me. I’m really not. I talk about selling my art and applying for shows but I never do any of it. I’m all talk and no actual commitment. But something about how my week turned instantly shitty- something about how that woman made me feel like I was small and insignificant, it made me snap. I paid for my food and my delicious white mocha and I asked to speak to the manager about getting my art on their art wall.

My voice did not shake. I did not tremble with nerves. The pen did not waiver in my hand as I filled out my application and asked about the process. I was calm, I was collected, and I felt like a giant weight had been lifted off my chest.

Sometimes we need a push. Not a gentle nudge. Not a guiding hand. A big, fat push in the right direction. I know I have a long way to go before I figure out whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing, what path I need to take. But I kept putting this experience off because of my larger than life fear of failure and disappointment. The truth of the matter is, I’ll never succeed if I’m too afraid to try in the first place.

For whatever reason, someone being extremely rude to me was the push I needed this week to actually try. I needed to experience that level of mean and albeit a bit crazy in order for me to rise to the challenge and rise above my work place. Because let’s face it, I am not passionate about my job at all. I do not intend to spend the rest of my life in a workplace surrounded by unhappy people who feel that it is perfectly acceptable to chew someone out who is trying to help them. I might as well start trying to expand my horizons now. And a local coffee shop is as good a place to start as any.

Wish me luck!

Creative Catastrophe

What’s worse- not knowing what to create, or having so many ideas in your brain throughout the day and not knowing which one to tackle first? Most would probably say the first, and I can definitely say that I’ve been there, done that. My problem ever since entering the workforce has been the latter of the two I’m afraid.

I know I’m not the only one to encounter this burst of creativity when I should be working instead. I will be in the middle of something and have an idea pop into my head suddenly, without warning. I can hardly contain myself, and I typically tend to start doodling in my designated work notebook, which does not look very professional let me tell you.

I think about my idea all day, anxious to get home and let the real work begin- the work I am actually passionate about and really excited for. That’s something that most people probably can’t say- that they’re excited to go to work.

But things get in the way, and when you work full time it’s hard to make yourself get started once you’ve sat down. My schedule is the same throughout the work week: 7 to 4:30 (sometimes 5) I am at work. 30 to 45 minute commute home, then dinner. At this point I am sitting, and I am tired. I have lost momentum, and I have lost my excitement to get to the real work ahead. I more often than not will put it off until tomorrow. Tomorrow I will have more energy. Tomorrow I will be better.

And then tomorrow comes, new ideas with it. But tomorrow I am not always better. Tomorrow unfortunately looks an awful lot like today did. And the ideas- they pile up. They form a haphazard stack in the back of my head, threatening to topple over at any given moment. This leads to an overwhelming feeling of not knowing which idea to pursue first. At this point, there are so many that I am petrified.

To try to alleviate this, I make list upon list of my ideas throughout the day and create a schedule for myself. I know there are full time artists who run successful businesses and they might have a schedule in place to get certain tasks done in a timely manner, but you cannot schedule creativity. You can set aside time for it, you can make yourself draw or paint but that does not mean you are being creative. It means you are practicing a skill set. You are doing what you feel needs to be done. The excitement is gone, and that is what is so damn frustrating to me.

I cannot remember a time where I had an idea and immediately had the opportunity to experiment and play. Because that is what art is to me- it’s not about line or color or technique. It’s about the journey, the process you go through to create something new. It’s about discovering a new side to yourself in each brush stroke, in each hatch mark of a pencil. Thomas Merton said it best: “Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.” And I so desperately need to do just that.

Thank God for weekends.