Artist’s Way - Artist Date Discussion

So there's this book, The Artist Way, that I've tried to commit to a couple times. And failed. But that's okay. I'm, trying again and I'm really. I'm terrified to use 'dedicated' or 'committed' because what if I fail. "You weren't very committed then, were ya!" some horrible voice says. Oh! The book talks about that voice, and how it holds us back from achieving what we want, succeeding at our goals/dreams, and failing to be the artist/creative/whateverthefuck we want to be. Heyyyy I really need to read this book.

Anyway, 'The Artist Date'.

The first time I heard about the Artist Date was at my first college (Art Institute), in one of the ... Game Dev Classes cringe. There were some really neat ideas and concepts to take home from that class. Some decent professors with great values and core principles that felt like they were kinda stuck in the wrong places. But that's neither here nor there

Anyway. I went on 1-2 of them. I remember I went to the Denver Aquarium and did some drawings of various things indoors, walked around the river area there. I don't remember the other one, must've been kinda lackluster.

Anyway, the core principle of the Artist Date is alone. You're taking your 'inner artist' out on a date to spark creativity by stimulating the brain with things that are inspiring and interesting.

And, no one, absolutely NO ONE, should be joining you on these dates. Safeguard the time, etc, struggle through how hard it is to block out time like that, and how easy it is to let it be eroded by life, obligations, lovers, friends, etc., and all that.

And of course, that's exactly what I did (didn’t do? whatever, you know what I mean). I let the concerning guy I was dating at the time tag along, or help me get to a location, or whatever. Naturally, that didn't work and I stopped doing them, and kinda bullshit my way through that portion of the class for the rest of the term.

How adult and accountable of me. I was 17 or just turned 18, of course I fucked it all up. I didn't know how to set boundaries or value the self-growth aspect of 'alone time'. But anyway.

You know what, fuckit, I'm going to off-topic this and tangent it out to a longer story that brings in some Tragic Backstory™️ elements for greater context, and, because it's what I feel like writing. And you know what that means? The actual present day endeavours of the Artist Date are going to be in another post! HAh get rekt. (Realistically, I was unable to go to the thing I planned for the date today, LUX Denver meeting went longer than I'd planned for so I had to rescheduled)

Let's back up a bit.

My dad gave me that book, The Artist Way. It has a very regal, divine looking cover, and talks vaguely of 'God' but not God in the sense of Organised Religion (or lack thereof). God as a creative force, an internal drive within us, influenced by the external and our conscious / subconscious. The book actually advises us to substitute God for some other term that relates more personally and intimately to us. I haven't found that term yet. I always joke about "me myself and i" and how we're all the parts of my psyche and creative and the internal dialogue. I'm not sure.

Anyway. Dad. We haven't talked about him here (much? I dunno). And we're not getting into it today. But. I think the Divine Cover and the mentions of "God" in the first few pages totally grabbed his attention, and "Artist Way" sounded like something his lovely struggling daughter would benefit on her journey to become an artist..

I don't actually know if he ever read it at all (he loves reading). And so I poked through it, and was IMMENSELY overwhelmed by it immediately. I wasn't ready for this shit. Fuck, some days I don't think I'm ready for it now and we're over a decade later.

Super super fast forward. I'm trying college again, at the place I'm supposed to be. RMCAD, that I have talked about. Great, amazing.

There's this guy, he teaches some of the life drawing classes and the sculpture class. Yenni. Peculiar man, inspired teacher, hits on the intellectual in an esoteric way. Remarkable person. Naturally, I gravitate to him for all these reasons. We really align, in ideals, ethics, morals, opinions on art, and he's got so much to share about thinking outside the box, approaching things differently, working with the internal self. Kindness. How the struggle is natural and we need to use it to break through our problems. How fighting with ourself means we're getting in the way. How discomfort is a sign of change and challenge, and our brain loves the comfortable. And when we get to that place, we need to chase the discomfort lest we do a disservice to ourselves.

Anyway. He mentioned the "Morning Pages" from the Artist Way to me, in passing. That they’d… help. I knew of the Morning Pages because I'd read the first chapter in the book. He spoke of them so passionately. It was inspiring.

I went home and took the book off the shelf, where it sat, and tried to commit. I commit to the morning pages, 3 of them every day, without fail. For a few years, actually. Incredible experience, life changing. I'm back to them again and it's hard; it's easy to sleep too late, schedule too early, get distracted by work, partners, friends. I've failed more than a few days over the last month. But I'm trying and I'm .. well, I'm trying to be accountable about it.

I failed back then, the rest of the book. I barely scratch the surface. But I do keep the pages. They help me through some times, the divorce, the change in myself and goals and dreams of college, start of COVID, a lot of stuff.

So anyway. Back to present.

I had a uh, motivation / compel / whateverthefuck / to fetch the book from the shelf again. It's sat there forever. Three or four moves, a failed marriage, you name it, it's been there on so many different shelves. In the sort of where that, I literally see it every day. And I have, for years. Sitting there.

So I grab it and read through it again. Man, some of the stuff she talks about in the prologue and the first chapter thing hit really hard now. Sometimes we just need to grow up and experience more in life for things that are genuinely valuable, to achieve the meaning they need to have in our life. Things, places, ideas, even people can be right but in the wrong time.

Maybe we'll get more into this in a different time, it's not quite on topic for here, and we're already off topic lol.

Anyway, it just, really hit. struck too many nerves.

But anyway back to, whatever it is we're going back to on this adventure we're on. I have been trying to be more intentional in my personal/private life, for myself and to better my professional life. Say what I do, do what I say, everything in between, be genuine and authentic. If my personal and private foundation is shit, my professional foundation will be nonexistent and horrible. Can't have that and frankly don't need it.

So I want to commit to the book again. And succeed, this time.

I've been being a dodgy lil fuck about it for the last few days. Thinking about it, considering it. Overthinking. Navigating my day to day, my personal, my struggles, psyching myself up and overthinking it again. Just do it, stop thinking. But I want to be ready. (What's ready, anyway? and for what?)

I want to do it and I want to know I can do it. I want it to be worth it. And I'm terrified. I'm terrified of failing, again. I'm terrified of some grand change I can't even fathom, that totally askews my life and my world and disassembles it and reassembles it all back together, differently.

But I'm so, so ready. I yearn for it. I want this life I imagine, I want to change, grow, be 'better'. Realise potential and really show up for myself. Do the hard things, struggle and succeed, be proud of myself for saying I'd do it, and doing it! Wouldn't that be so cool!

Anyway, I rescheduled the Artist Date for tomorrow in the afternoon. I don't have any hard commitments and am excited to take myself out. I found this really ADORABLE condo in an old School Building (I think?). It's quirky as hell, funky paint colours, a lofted area, curvy windows. And I want to wander around downtown. I will bring my camera with me, and reconnect with myself and that part of my creativity. I've always loved Photography, and I've probably repressed it.

But. I'm authentic to me, now. So yes. I will call myself an artist. A photographer. A painter. A writer. A goddamn real estate agent.

I am.

Thanks, Dad. wouldn't be here without you. wouldn't be anywhere.