Creative Risk. Worth It?

Roadsign: Dangerous but passable

This sign is on one of my favorite motorcycle rides. It seems so much more than a road sign. For me, it was an invitation to do some creative work. Dangerous? Well,  I could make mistakes, I could not like the finished piece. (It’s just a piece of paper.)  It also might be an interesting ride, if I can get over the fear. A little danger can be fun.

A lot of creative work is dangerous, but passable. the ride takes some skill, but that’s the fun.

Journal prompt: In your creative work, what seems dangerous to you?

–Quinn McDonald is a writer and certified creativity coach. She runs workshops and seminars in raw-art journals.

Make Your Dream Come True. Then What?

We sure spend a lot of time chasing dreams. Working hard, staying focused. And then, suddenly, like a cat chasing a butterfly, one day you reach and catch the dream. Now what?

The winning line: twlcasinos.co.uk

Catching up to your dream and making it real can be scary. This is your dream and part of you didn’t believe you could do it. Your negative self talk told you often enough how out of reach it was. You might have chased that dream because it was good exercise, but deep inside you may not have thought you’d catch it. And now you did.

At this very point–the point of reaching your dream or goal, we jump back. After all, if we hold the dream, we suddenly become responsible for it. We doubt ourselves. Is that dream good or big enough? After all, if we reached it, was it really worthwhile?

When you reach a goal, there are no instructions and no magic wand that comes with it. The biggest burden of reaching a goal is that the same ol’ you has reached it. Along the way we might have become older, wiser, thinner, but it is still you. Getting that dream doesn’t come with a limo and posse for most of us. It comes with responsibility. You reached your goal, now you have to acknowledge it, and account for it. You have to admit that you got what you wanted. Some people will say “So what?”, others will snort, others will be envious. A few people will be mad at you. None of this should stop you from admitting you reached your goal. None of this should make you belittle yourself or your goal.

The important part is knowing what you did to get here, knowing that you could have stopped to avoid having the responsibility and pretended to change the goal. It’s a brave thing to reach your goal. Unlike running a marathon, once you cross the finish line with a goal, you realize you can’t declare a finish time and stop. Goals we set for ourselves continue. They grow as we do. When you reach a goal, you have made meaning out of your life. You understand what you can learn and manage. You have succeeded.

Before you feel dipped in fear, acknowledge your growth. Be proud. Making meaning is growth. Celebrate!

–Quinn McDonald is a writer, trainer, and creativity coach.

Standing Up for Your Art

When I sold my artwork at art festivals, I got immediate feedback. If I hadn’t designed a piece in a way that was popular, if it didn’t balance, no one bought it. (Those were days that I designed and sold totemic jewelry made from artifacts that had not originally been jewelry–veil weights, for example.) So I kept my eye on trends and what fit. And I balanced that with what I wanted to make, what made meaning for me, what stirred my creativity.

Found art: jellybead (or gum) spot on sidewalk. Been there for a while, couldn't budge it with my shoe. Still, art.

Eventually, I made the pieces that were popular over and over again. One of the problems of doing one-of-a-kind pieces is that you have to make very similar pieces in big numbers. I didn’t mind. It was the bread-and-butter work, I also got to make new pieces that were amazingly challenging and interesting to me.

When I quit doing shows, I wanted to spend some time exploring how my interests had evolved and what direction to move to follow my meaning. I returned to paper art. Over the next three years I’ve done a lot of exploring, experimenting, and discovering. And for me,  meaning lies in the middle of the intersection of writing and illustration. There is a lot of room at that space–the definition of “book,” “writing,” and “illustration,” all of which I loosely group into the phrase “raw art.” There are others working in that space, and they create interesting questions and meaning-making exercises.

There are also those who don’t understand or value this work. I understand that. After all, my previous work was functional, and what I do not is not. Some others are not interested in works on paper, and that’s what I do care about.

Something interesting has happened as I continue to explore the meaning-making portion of my art. I began to care more about the work, the meaning, the exploration than I did answering the question, “What can I teach?” “What product will they take home?” “What’s the interesting thing for the public?” Instead, I wrote a book encouraging people to sink into their creativity, to explore the dark edges and the bright outgrowths.

I’ve been working on ideas for a long time, but now I put the ideas down, knowing that I was drawing borders, knowing that I would have to leave out things as well. But I continued to collect ideas, try them out, see how they worked.

Then came the book proposal, and now I am waiting for the answer from the publisher. My friends have a huge question for me–What if the publisher doesn’t take the book? What will you do then? It’s a question that makes me smile. I’ll write the book, of course. I can’t not write the book. Of course I would like to have it published, but I am not writing for publication. I am writing because I have something to say, to share, to live. And that is true whether it gets picked up on Friday (December 11, 2009 for future readers) or not. Writing down what I have learned is important to the exploration and my understanding of my art for myself, and then for others. It’s what I do.

When your art makes meaning, you do your art. People like it and you thank them and are happy they understand it from their viewpoint. People don’t like it and you nod because they have a different viewpoint. But your art is the tool that helps you understand your life or even the bigger question of why you are here. So other people’s understanding is not a guidepost.

I feel deep admiration for people who are involved in creative work of any sort–and are happy to explain it and talk about it with strength and love. When challenged with traditional questions, “How much can you sell that for?” or “Who cares about that when there is so much misery in the world?” or “How does that help to solve the world’s problems?” or even “How can you do that when your family needs the money from a real job?” the artist knows that there can be no reply that satisfies the questioner. The person asking the question isn’t ready to understand the answer. Or they may be very close to understanding. Or they wish they could make meaning but are afraid. But the question doesn’t demean the artist’s value in discovering their art. They don’t have a choice. It IS their life.

The work of art is to face fear, to live with it, to find what is valuable and to value it. A big order, indeed. But the answer holds the meaning to life.

–Quinn McDonald is a life- and creativity coach who trains businesses how to communicate effectively with their clients and helps people who don’t draw or write to keep art journals.

Painting Christmas on the Windows

Store windows are turning to the holidays. Here in Phoenix that means Christmas. This isn’t a big Chanukkah or Kwaanza town. Most windows are sprayed with stencils.

This afternoon, walking to pick up my repaired car, I saw a man arranging paint cans on the back of his truck. The shopping center was brick, so I wondered what he was painting.

A strip mall on a mild December afternoon, and an artist ready to paint.

What he was painting was the windows. Of the entire strip mall. First he painted houses with snow on them. Then he added pine trees. He worked with brushes and paints, quickly. Amazingly quickly. A tree took under a minute.  He didn’t want me to photograph him, but he agreed to have his hand shown. Here is a tree that he was just starting.

The aritst painted around the information already in the window.

This is a tree about a minute later.

The artist worked steadily and quickly.

And here is the completed window. All done by hand on a cool December afternoon by a man who has never seen snow.

If you are comparing windows, this was a set of four, these were the first two.

–Quinn McDonald is a life- and creativity coach. © 2009. All rights reserved.

Memory of Reading

We were the only family in town with a library in the house. When the carpenter put up all the shelves in the combination dining room/library/office for my Dad, he asked, “You opening up a grocery story or what?” When we told him it was for the books, he grunted and said, “Past the Bible and the Sears catalog, don’t have much use for them myself.”

The room was soon filled with books, top to bottom. I learned to read early, and after I mastered the comics in the newspaper, and the Betsey McCall section of my mother’s McCall’s magazine, I began to read National Geographic.

One day, I considered all the books in our library and asked my father if I could read one. (It wold not have occurred to me to simply take a book without asking. Different times,  different upbringing.) My father told me, kindly, that I wouldn’t understand them.

“Why not?” I asked. “I can read English.”
My father smiled and handed me a physics book. “Read this, then,” he said.
I worked through the introduction, getting the words right, but with no idea about the ideas in the book. At 5 years, physics isn’t a familiar concept.

I remember the mix of awe, anger and concern that I could not grasp the material. It was English. I knew how to read English. Why couldn’t I understand this English?

Slowly I came to understand the difference between reading and comprehension; between seeing and knowing. The complex relationship between seeing words and understanding concepts came slowly to me, but I began to read more, eager for the ability to link words to concepts.

There are still many books I don’t understand, and many I don’t try to understand, but the joy and mystery of reading can fill me with a joy that few other things can reach. I hope the love of reading doesn’t fade away, replaced by electronic pastimes. Reading was my comfort, excitement and cure for loneliness. It still is.

–Quinn McDonald is a writer who teaches others to write through training programs. See her work at QuinnCreative.com Image: Mouse, charcoal on paper. Quinn McDonald. (c) 2008-9 All rights reserved.

Holiday Party? How to Hold on to Your Job After the Party

Every year, hundreds of well-meaning people jump off the career ladder and don’t know it. They attend the office holiday party and in one, colossal moment of misguided relaxation, kill their career. When they let go, they don’t remember that the problem started at the holiday party.

So let me be plain: Holiday parties are not for having fun. They are for proving you can behave well in public and know how to dress appropriately (Hint:  no flip-flops). Here, for those who may have trouble navigating the office party scene, some hints:

1. Even if there is an open bar, do not have more than two drinks. Don’t drink often? One is plenty. A holiday party is not for losing control or letting go. At best it is a networking opportunity, at worst it is a chance to prove you can behave in public. Slurred speech, bleary eyes and loudly insisting you are “fine to drive” doesn’t fool anyone.

2. Crying, vomiting, or taking off any portion of your clothing is not part of a holiday party. Stick to club soda or juice when you start to feel frisky and funny.

3. Unless you are a professional, do not give in to the urge to sing or dance on stage, with a microphone or in a spotlight. Cell phone cameras will have you on YouTube tomorrow, just when that company you submitted your resume to is checking your profile and finding the link.

4. Stay away from the copy machine. You don’t need to be there at an office party and the temptation to photocopy body parts increases with liquor consumption.

5. No matter how hot your boss’s spouse looks, not matter how flirty the CEOs date, do not, under any circumstances, reply in kind. The bigger the age difference, the less you should engage them in any conversation. If you think I’m not serious, rent and watch an old movie called The Graduate with Dustin Hoffman.

6. Do not discuss your promotion or engage in self-promotion at the party. Of any kind. Do not take the opportunity to snark on anyone who isn’t there. No one likes to keep someone else’s ego inflated at the holiday part. Slimy behavior engages the karma wheel.

7. This is not the time to pull off your glasses, fluff up your hair and be the inner animal you’ve always wanted to be. This is also not the time to wear anything that flashes, jingles, or glows in the dark. That’s for your own party, at another time. Wear party clothes that are appropriate for your age and figure. Spandex is tricky to wear and still be thought of as chic.

8. Avoid the person holding the camera or video equipment. If they ask you to do the solo from “Evita,” the full-body spelling of Y.M.C.A., or the hysterical imitation of the guy in accounting, feign ignorance, even if you have left people in the kitchen in stitches with the routine. (See warning in #3, above.)

9. Don’t be the last one to leave. Do not be the first one to leave either. If figuring this out causes you a headache, put your drink down, switch to club soda.

10. Learn to enjoy yourself with all the restrictions. Sometimes that’s as good at is gets.

Images: martini glass: midwestdiva.blogspot.com ornaments: www.jewelry-gift-boxes.com

–Quinn McDonald has been to many holiday parties, some of which she would prefer not to remember. She is a writer and certified creativity coach who teaches Workplace Communication.

What Did You Leave Unsaid?

You know the feeling. You think of what you should have said hours after the opportunity is gone. Or you missed the chance to say “Thank you.” Or you should have said “Yes,” and you said, “No.”

Now you have a chance to say what you should have said. What you wanted to say. It’s another chance to get it right. Put it on a postcard–any size, any way–if the post office takes it, it counts. Sign it, keep it anonymous. It’s all up to you to get it right this time around.

Mail  postcard to:  P.O. Box 12183   Glendale  AZ  85318

Here is the first batch.

“Right Words” © Peg C.

Blank, anonymous

“Thank You” fabric on paper.©, A. Esqueda

Silence © Journey C.

Altered Book: Fahrenheit 451

The Big Read is an idea sponsored by the Valley’s libraries. Each year a book is chosen and libraries sponsor events to encourage people to read that book. One of the events involves artists–I was one of the artists chosen to alter the book for a display at one of the libraries. This year’s book is Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury.

What makes the book interesting is that the 1953-written book has elements of  current reality–a society obsessed by television and celebrities, a fear of intellectual discussions at social functions, a minority kicking up a fuss about books, which are subsequently banned from libraries, and my favorite, a love of wearing earbuds and being plugged in to programmed music.

In my approach to altering the book, I chose the idea from the final scene of the book, in which people become living books. Readers live in books, so I created a row-house made of books. In the image below, the central house is Fahrenheit 451, surrounded by other book houses.The pages of the central book are stuffed with message tags.

Altered book, Fahrenheit 451. © Quinn McDonald, 2009

Each house represents a genre: mystery, science fiction, art and poetry. Because love of nature was banned in the story, the two houses on the left represent winter and spring, and the two books on the left represent summer and fall.

Altered book detail, left side © Quinn McDonald, 2009

Altered book right-side detail. © Quinn McDonald, 2009

The tags are all quotes about books, all  from famous people. Ray Bradbury’s own quote, “You don’t have to burn books to destory a culture, Just get people to tstop reading them,”  is there, as well as Salman Rushdie’s quote, “A book is a version of the world. If you do not like it, ignore it or offer your own version in return.”

Detail of book tags, © Quinn McDonald, 2009

In the heart of the book (I chose page 98 deliberately, as 98.6 Fahrenheit is the normal temperature of the human body), there are flames on one side and a matchbook on the other. The matchbook has a burning match on the cover, and the inside “matches” are the spines of books that have been banned in the past.

Right side detail, matchbook © Quinn McDonald, 2009

The matchbook itself is surrounded by paper flames that have already consumed the page of the book.

The tags are removable for easy reading, and can be used as bookmarks. I hope the book is displayed in a way that allows people to touch it and play with it.

Banned books as matches, detail of altered book, © Quinn McDonald, 2009

I read the book when I was about 10 and just discovering science fiction. My first big literary shock was discovering that Bradbury had made a mistake, paper bursts into flame at 451 Celsius, not Fahrenheit. Yes, I stuck a piece of paper in the oven to see it burst into flame.

It took me a long while to accept altered books. The thought of ruining a book was overwhelming. But the lure of transforming a book that was scheduled for the shredder into a piece of art won me over.

The satisfaction of planning out a concept and carrying it through was really satisfying. I am honored to have been chosen for this project. And yes, I do custom altered books to honor a special event or person.

–—Quinn McDonald is a life- and certified creativity coach. She teaches people how to write and give presentations. She also teaches people who can’t draw how to keep an art journal.

Thanks to the Unknown

Last night, I dreamed about the house fire again. In 2002, in August, our row house caught fire and burned. Poorly trained roofers accidentally set the roof on fire. It started as a smoldering fire, which they didn’t notice. They left for the day, leaving a cannister of propane on the roof.

Fire photo by H. Peter Clamann ©2006

An unknown man across the street was sitting on his balcony, enjoying an after-work drink, when he saw wisps of smoke, followed by flame, licking around our roof. He didn’t waste any time. He ran across the street, and banged on every door, including ours.  There were more than a dozen houses in our cluster.”Your house is on fire, get out!” he yelled.

My husband stepped out to see if it was true, and I went to the phone to dial 911. The fire department was on the way before I left the house.

You never want to see the home you owe 28 years of payments on with a “Condemned” sign on the front door. Neither do you want to walk up the stairs in the company of the fire marshal to see the night sky clearly through the hole in your roof, and have the confused fire marshal ask, “What room was this?” as you gaze in a charred mess that is piled with books and thigh-high in shingles and debris. It was amazing that I could look at him and say, simply, “My studio.”

People told me how lucky I was that the house didn’t burn to the ground, how great it was that I could buy new clothes and furniture. One of my neighbors complained the next morning that she hoped I wouldn’t leave “that mess” –the contents of my studio that the fire fighters had thrown out the windows. I was mad at the gawkers who stood around, taking photos of my ruined house, of me, sweaty and dirty, picking up my art life on my front lawn. When I think about that time, I think of the art show promoter who refused to refund my booth space fee when I told him that I couldn’t participate in the show in two weeks because my studio burned. “No refunds,” he said, and I knew he didn’t believe my story.

In the dream, however, I remember the people who helped. The neighbor who let us stay in her house, adding our three cats to her six and her neice, nephew and their child–6 of us in her two-bedroom space. Of another neighbor who was going on vacation and insisted we use their place while they were gone. Of another artist who sent me a 20-pound box of art supplies so I could get started again. Of the insurance adjuster who arrived before 8 o’clock the next day and organized the repair.

Most of all, I remember the perfect stranger who ran over from his house and prevented ours from burning to the ground. I wanted to thank him in some way, but I wasn’t even sure where he lived. He left when the fire engines squealed to the curb. He saved lives on that day, as if he did it every day.

To thank him, I wrote a letter. “One of your neighbors saved lives. He did it without thought of reward. He left before we could thank him.  All we know is that he lives on this street. I thought you’d want to know who lives among you, who your neighbor is.” I went on to describe how his fast, self-less actions had brought the fire department before the row-house fire spread to other roofs. How all the neighbors left their houses with pets and children, scared, but safe. I distributed the letter to every house on his street.

In my dream, I see the man and thank him. And every time I wake from that dream, I am grateful all over again.

—Quinn McDonald is a life- and certified creativity coach. She teaches people how to write and give presentations. She also teaches people who can’t draw how to keep an art journal.

Email to a friend in pain

Fragment

No. No judgment here.

I’ve stumbled down the  divorce road. Not always the high road, either. Deep in chiggers, dust and trash.

I know the need for validation, for filling up an empty bed, a night, a life.
You can walk with, date, hug, smooch, sleep with, shag, rub, drool on anyone
without my approval, permission or judgment.

What I will admit to is feeling vaguely maternal, trying to keep you from getting hurt. More.
As if I could.

–© 2009 QuinnCreative