Jan Exch to Janna + Genn Article

This is a Jan exchange envelope that is still on my desk. 

I bumped today's pre-scheduled post after I read a recent Sara Genn article. From time to time I post letters by Sara or her late father, Robert. I highly recommend all of the letters because they cover so much valuable information about both the nuts and bolts of being creative, but also the mind-games that we all struggle with. I preach all of the same things that they preach, but they are better wordsmiths. You can sign up to receive the letters. You get two per week, usually a new one from Sara and a re-run from Robert.

So read this, take it to heart, and always remember that the time you steal to make art is worthwhile. I especially like that it dovetails the process with music and sports. You can apply this topic to anything

I have permission to reprint the letters.
If this is the first time you have heard about the Genns, here is a link to the website.

http://painterskeys.com/

Dear Artist,

In the new pile of books brought by Santa and others, I noticed an early edition of The Inner Game of Music. Written in 1986 by Barry Green, former Principal Bassist for the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, “The Inner Game” explores how musicians can temper the hang-ups that stymie heightened creative expression. After researching the nuts and bolts of peak performance with his co-author, sports psychology coach W. Timothy Gallwey, Green determined that performance techniques used by tennis players might also be applied to the arts. Artists, like athletes, while chasing flow and the truth, can instead be bound up with fear, perfectionism, rote and bad vibes.

While alone in the studio striving to solve problems in my own work, I’ve noticed there always arrives a moment of choice, when I can fold up creatively at the panic and shame of possible failure, or let go and trust in the process of discovery. If I can manage the latter, a temporal, but satiating pleasure in the actual, physical activity at hand emerges. After all, if a painting is, among other things, a record of the act of painting, then might we release ourselves from the burden of results and instead simply create? In this system, the end product may even take care of itself.

If you’re still with me, Barry and Timothy suggest this unburdening is achieved by first understanding that we’re made up of two selves: a chiding, full-of-doubt, accuracy junkie who hurls negative comments at a talented joy machine emoting in a carefree orgy of self-expression. This interfering inner voice is an art-killer and must be silenced with a master technique called, “relaxed concentration.” By getting into a state where we’re alert, relaxed, responsive and focused, we can casually make magic while still employing a learned, technical prowess. Here are a few of Barry’s tips for relaxed concentration, adapted for painting:

Be aware of what’s going on in your work by aligning your feelings with what you’re doing.

Be committed to the main goal of making art by putting expression first.

Let your muscle memory do the technical heavy lifting. Think of your practiced, mastered skills as an insurance policy against self-doubt, but also as a set of wings for heightened expression. If you want to be a painter, you need to know how to paint. This mastery frees you to then slip into an automatic mode of play and communication.

Trust in the character of the thing you want to express. Tune into what could be bubbling up from your own, inner joy machine. Does the work, in its purest form, have a casual quality? Is it excited or calm? Is it gorgeous? Is it troubled? What expression are you really conveying?

Lastly, trust in a brotherhood and sisterhood of greatness. Can you draw on the vibes of another or role-play as a means of channelling a certain character of expression? Barry may suggest his students play for a minute like Charlie Mingus, just to get a feeling for the expression. In doing so, we may grow accustomed to the sensations and pull our own uniqueness from within.

Sincerely,

Sara

PS: “Forget shoulds and experience is.” (W. Timothy Gallwey)