Just this morning I was writing my morning pages and berating myself for my lack of writing. A familiar trope that I revisit frequently: that I am never doing enough creative work, even when not social distancing and with ample time.
And then Khristian Weeks shared this Instagram post with me:
“Notes from my last residency in Ontario, Canada:
A whole bunch of materials is waiting for its transformation into something we commonly call ‘works of art’. Not only these from Canada, but a lot of other findings from Italy (sea and forests) reside in my studio suspended in this motionless moment. On top of that, new projects and conceptual works reside in my mind for the warm season, and one could think right now, given the quarantine, an artist should have an abundance of time to dedicate to his/her practice.
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What I want to say is that I just don’t feel like doing anything. I just prefer to spend my time deep into this crisis rather than distracting from it.
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Suddenly my work has become something far from what I’m living, something off-topic from what I’m through right now. Everything feels useless or distant. And in the compulsive ways socials are pushing people to do, do, do (on-line courses, exhibitions, flash mobs, virtual gatherings and whatever may sound productive, which I don’t criticize), I want to allow myself just doing nothing.
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It’s strange how death is the only certain thing in this life, jet it shocks and upsets us so deeply.
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I hope and guess that my mood will change again soon as everything is changing fast and I will be going back to my art practice with a different attitude, but for now I’m living through my mood with the effort to not feel guilty about it and it feels good I’m succeeding in this.” @francesca.virginia.coppola
I alternately love it and hate it when someone beats me to a public expression of how I am feeling.
The idea that we (the big, U.S. of A “we”) are being pushed to be productive and busy at the same time this virus has forced us to slow down seems counterintuitive to me, and, for creative people, a direct contradiction to the quiet reflection that is necessary for deep work.
I am a big fan of the idea that creative work is more than just the production of stuff and encompasses the whole wide network of action that includes inaction as well. And that there is tremendous value in removing all of the distraction of busy-ness to sink into creative practice that may or may not have a final product.
People: you don’t need to organize your closets and deep clean your house. You don’t need to re-create your child’s school at home. You don’t need to go into high-speed production of your art, or learn a new skill, or attend a class.
You could, but this is not required.
Nothing is required of you at this moment in time except that you wash your hands, cough/sneeze into your elbow, and don’t touch your face.
Literally, that’s it.
Today, we are watching movies and working on a puzzle (‘shrooms, natch). It will be warm but cloudy, so maybe we will stretch our legs around the block, but maybe not.
Do you feel pressed to “do, do, do,” or are you letting this forced slowdown sink deeply into your bones?
This was a delicious read. I felt like I was over your shoulder as you wrote this. To speak to your questions, I feel that things are a little surreal, like I have a foot in two worlds: be productive and be still. I am super blessed to be able to work from home. Doing so allows me to bake muffins one morning & roast a chicken the next afternoon. These things don’t feel like do, do, do because they would have been buy, buy, buy. I am still programmed, I can feel it, but there’s something there that is slowly breaking off from the pack…
I work from home, too, but the programming definitely runs DEEP. Maybe what this time is doing is giving us a choice. Before, for many people, the only speed was GO. Now, we can GO or be very, very still. In some cases, stillness is the only choice.
And I am all for baking and cooking during this. It’s nourishing on many levels – knowing you can feed yourself delicious things and that you have enough is a powerful comfort in uncertain times.