Month: September 2017

CREATIVITY and MAKING_Brackage

Katie Mannix 

Fall 2017 

VISU 1311 

 Reflection: Stellar by Dan Brackage (1993) 

Stellar didn’t do a great deal for me as an affecting piece of art, at least not positively. The colors were beautiful, and the imagery was lovely in that it did look stellar and like images from deep space. That being said, the frequency and chaotic movement of the images at such a quick pace was something I found to be upsetting. The flashing images lent themselves to reminding me of my general anxiety. Visual stimulus is something I can be very picky about, and more often than not I prefer something calm, slow moving, and soothing. Again, the colors and composition of the images were lovely. I would have liked to see them as stills. But the rapid movement and cuts from image to image was something that personally didn’t serve me well. Perhaps if I were in a different mood or headspace, they could be better received. But upon first viewing, the changes images were too much of a distraction from the color and composition, and I felt anxious watching the film. Perhaps that’s what the artist was going for, who knows, but art that induces anxiety for me is rarely something I want to embrace or revisit. I spend enough of my energy creating my own anxiety, and usually seek out pieces of art that can calm those feelings.

CREATIVITY and MAKING_Kiwanuka

Katie Mannix 

Fall 2017 

VISU 1311 

Reflection – Song Exploder: Michael Kiwanuka 

After listening to this song exploder episode, I was mostly reminded of my own experiences with feeling stuck or at a loss for what to do next creatively. Kiwanuka mentioned during the interview that some days he wouldn’t even go into the recording studio because it felt too depressing to go listen to music that never seemed to sound good enough. I’ve had similar experiences with my own artistic work. I’ve written several original songs, but only the lyrics. Melodies are something that have, and still are a great source of frustration. Sitting down at the piano and trying to pair a melody with any of my lyrics has so far yielded little to no results. As an artist I often have this expectation that once I sit down with an instrument and lyrics I’ve written, that the muses will speak to me and some kind of song will be born. The creative process of course differs from individual to individual, so I usually try to have a peaceful attitude about it and accept that there are aspects of my personal creative process that haven’t become apparent to me yet.  

I liked that Kiwanuka’s song originated from something very simple – an old song he had heard that was just a man’s voice and his hands clapping. Before they began to reveal the rest of the layers the song ended up with, I found just Kiwanuka’s start of using his voice and hands sounded wonderful. It was a great reminder for me that composing a song does not necessarily have to be intricate, complicated, or innovative. Simplicity has its own value. I knew this already, but it’s something I often forget. I put pressure on myself to write songs that are astounding and fresh in ways nobody has ever heard. I don’t discourage aiming for that, but more and more over the years I’ve had to settle into the fact that simplicity is perfectly okay, and that artistic individuality will find its way into simplicity if there is some kind of spark to be manifested. An example I should remind myself of more often is the early work of Tom Waits. He’s one of my biggest idols, and much of his early work consists of chord progression and lyrical formats that are essential quite basic. As a lyricist, he was still able to weave his magic around these basic formats and carve out a unique voice for himself. I sometimes still fear simplicity, but it helps to think of others who have made such beauty from it to serve as a reminder of its value and place in art and expression.

CREATIVITY and MAKING_Tan

Fall 2017
VISU 1311
Reflection: Amy Tan TED Talk
Amy Tan’s TED Talk was an enjoyable exploration of several of the general themes that I feel many artists encounter during their lives. I would have even liked the ideas to be explored more in-depth. Nonetheless, the talk pointed out and gave name to several sensations and phenomenon I experience as an artist, and gave me several new prompts for artistic growth and contemplation.
The nature vs nurture concept wasn’t new to me, but wasn’t something I’d consciously thought of in several years. It’s an idea I believe is meant to be perpetually debated and wondered about. I can’t be sure that I’ll ever be able to say with any degree of absolute certainty what parts of my personality
and creativity come from my nature, and which come from my environment. Some days, it doesn’t seem to matter anyway. On the other hand, questioning what I seek to produce and express as an artist often brings me back to the desire to know the origins of these wants. If I have an idea for a painting that is
about depression, why do I want it to be a painting? Why do I want it to be about depression? Am I depressed because I’ve convinced myself that I am, do I simply suffer from a chemical imbalance, or is it a cocktail of both? What attracts me to painting as a medium? Does my desire to paint stem from something biological, spiritual, or environmental? Again, some days these questions seem insignificant, and all that feels important is making the painting a reality. Other days, I incessantly question the origins of my specific desires for my art. Either way, there are constantly answers and new questions to be found through both regarding and disregarding the nature vs nurture concept.
Tan also mentioned things like the uncertainty principle, the observer effect, ambiguity, and intentions. The two that piqued my interest the most were the observer effect and intentions. As for the observer effect, the idea appears a bit complex to me but essentially it seems to be the idea that something changes as a result of simply being observed. This caught my attention because I often feel
that I am hyper-observant of my own thoughts and existence, often to such a level that I can be overwhelmed by it and become overly self-critical or get caught in feedback loops of stress, anxiety, uncertainty, or toxic thoughts. Observation has lately felt more like an enemy than something that can bring about creativity. In a book I’ve recently started, Emotional Rescue, there was a quote that stood out to me and ended up as a small illustration in my personal journal. It was the author encouraging the reader to find “The recognition of your emotions as creative energy beyond the polarities of good and bad”. This felt immediately significant to me, not only as an artist but as someone who has always been ruled by her emotions. My emotions have caused me a great deal of grief over the years by being something I succumbed to, rather than governed. Meditation has been something I’ve turned to more and more frequently in the recent past, as well as the quote from Emotional Rescue. After a while, being ruled by one’s emotions can become so exhausting and disheartening that by one set of means or another, those emotions become channeled into something rather than stewing and causing confusion or despair. On some of the most difficult days I’ve had with my emotions, artistic expression (and meditation) has been a healing and liberating medicine. It was nice to get a reminder on the concept of observation and its potential uses, both positive and negative. I also felt reminded that I can have the authority over my emotions whenever I choose to observe them without fear or judgement. This is a simple truth, but one easily forgotten.
Lastly, the mention of intentions reminded me of thoughts and ideas I’ve often struggled with. It became, sometime in the past (could’ve been months or years, I can’t be sure), that intentions were an excuse (for lack of a better word) for my shortcomings or things done wrongly to myself or others. If I treated someone poorly, or hurt someone, I would use my intentions as an escape from accountability or guilt. Ex: “I’m sorry it upset you when I said that haircut didn’t suit you. I wasn’t trying to be rude, I was just trying to be honest.” Just because I was trying to be honest, doesn’t excuse me from how what I said was received. If my friend couldn’t receive my intentions, that’s not their shortcoming. They have a right to their feelings about what I said. Who is right or wrong doesn’t matter at that point, because what I said was neither necessary nor considerate, no matter what my intentions. Therefore, disregarding that my friend considered it rude and saying “well, that wasn’t my intention” is an attempt for me to shirk responsibility for my lack of mindfulness. Intentions are a tricky thing, and still so often mysterious to me. The best thing I’ve found to do is be mindful of using my intentions as a way to avoid being held accountable.