I recently finished reading The Work of Art (buy the book – affiliate link) by Adam Moss. I truly loved this book. The interview style, the layout, how Moss put his comments in and around the margins throughout the book.
For each person interviewed, he asked them to discuss a specific piece of art they had created, what that process was like, and how their art, in general, came to be.
I love a look at other people’s processes, the why or the how things happen, what people think about when they create. I love asking people questions about what they do, it doesn’t have to be art. People and life are fascinating.
1. The inklings of the art you will create are likely present from the beginnings of one’s life.
At the very back of the book, there a few pages with images that show a subject appearing in an artist’s early work and, then again, in their later work. The themes of interest to artists seemed to remain a constant throughout an artists’ s life. For example, Picasso and a bullfighter: the first time appearing at the age of 8 and then again, at 53.
This also seemed, or could seem to, apply to even the type of art created. I know for myself, I wrote before I could write. Filling the blank lines of a black and white composition notebook with scribbles. No words, just the shape of writing. I have written in some form or other ever since. (I am now wondering though if I have a theme that has persisted!)
Do the work that you’ve always wanted to do.
2. It takes faith, stamina and a continuous working your way out of it.
Really you just have to work your way out of it. That’s the only way. You have to be rigorous, you have to be a soldier, you have to fight. It’s only by making a volume of work that you’ll be forced to confront what it is that you don’t know how to do, and learn to do it. – Ira Glass
While there are definitely people who are born with an innate ability to paint or draw, it really only gets you so far without focusing in on that ability and honing it to make it better, to develop that skill.
As you gain command of that skill, your ability to create in a medium allows your conceptual ideas to expand and come to fruition.
When I was in college, I studied photography on these big, manual 4×5 cameras. We had to figure out the lighting and exposures to get the image right. My professor at the time said that until you get the technical down, you won’t be able to create what is in your head. Gosh, was he right! I struggled my whole first term with that camera. But after winter break, it all sunk in and my photography took a very noticeable turn toward the better. (phew.)
In simple terms, do the work and a lot of it.
3. However you create the work is fine.
I tried to recall, while reading this book, where my ideas of how art gets done came from. I grew up with actors for parents. I remember Dad learning lines, I have some memories of Mom during rehearsal or two. I saw that there is a level of work involved to get things right or done. One does not just trot onto stage and poof – a play happens. There are layers and stages.
And yet my idea of how art comes to be has been this: a piece of art – writing, painting – comes out perfectly whole, the first time you sit down to do something.
There are many ways to do the work. You could sketch the painting out in full detail or put it on the canvas directly and keep painting over it unit you found what worked. You can be a total mess in your studio or clean up after every piece (me). I actually did feel odd for a while, as a very tidy, organized artist. But then, I am also a designer and too much clutter keeps me from thinking.
Do the work however you do it. As long as you do it.
4. The things you wonder about? You are not alone.
I’ll be honest, I cannot find the spot where I read this in the book but I know it’s there! I went back and forth a bit about including it but I thought of all the pieces in the book and decided that, since this is my take away from the book, I didn’t need to worry about the specific text. The thought still holds true. From all the work and ideas mentioned in the book to the art that I have seen or people I have followed on social media, there is definitely someone else out there wondering about the same things you are. (Goth gardening, anyone?)
Do the work, share the work, and find each other.
5. Don’t forget why you create in the first place.
The cartoonist Lynda Barry, who teaches creativity, has spoken about why we think differently about art than about riding a bicycle. When we hop on a bicycle, no part of us thinks that we’ll be able to win the Tour de France, but with art, we think if we’re not really good at it, we can’t, or shouldn’t, do it. That stuck with me.
In my zeal to be good, I had forgotten all the reasons I had taken up painting in the first place. – Adam Moss
It is true with art, we often think we need to create masterpieces but that mindset gets in the way of creating anything at all. Your first creations will not be exactly what you want but they may surprise you enough that (hopefully) you will keep going. And even if they don’t, the work after that might but you will never know if you don’t keep making art (see number 2 above!).
Do the work you love without worrying about greatness.
Here are some of the pieces I loved…
that I think really capture what the author was exploring in the book.
I loved seeing how a napkin sketch became something larger and grand – The Sydney Opera House.
Or how a different napkin sketch became an atmospheric exhibit – The Blur Building at an Expo in Switzerland.
Or how a box of scraps with words could either be a catalyst for a great cartoon… or very perplexing.
Or how small notebooks are often the beginnings of big, comedic shows.
