Compositon in Black, White and Grey

Attached to a recent Canada Council application, a survey questionnaire asked: What kind of challenges do you as an artist face in your career? I listed the usual problems of time management, low supplementary income, adequate studio space etc. etc. Part way down this litany of familiar complaints, I included: finding a balance between the inner and outer world.

After pausing for air, I realized that yes, this is just as important as all those other very real, practical concerns. Everyone has an optimal ratio balance between the solitude necessary for art making and engagement with the world. 50/50 isn’t always an appropriate or accurate percentage for everybody. Certainly for others, it’s not an option if there are commitments to family, a second job or geographical limitations. But most people, including artists do know if they are by nature reticent or social. This gives them some indication of their own preferential needs and what is required to balance an excess focus in any particular direction.

Extroverts amaze me. I go to the dentist in the morning and by noon, need a nap. There are artists who can negotiate an active life without compromising the focus required for their work. Energetic and capable, they attend all kinds of meetings, serve in various organizations, maintain relationships, work at a second job, throw parties, stay on their feet and still have a viable art career. Others, similarly inclined, have to rein in time for themselves to concentrate on an upcoming exhibition. If they don’t, resources dissipate in too many directions. Whether they enjoy lengthy art discourse with colleagues in a bar or love to appear at many functions or openings, the outgoing artist thrives more on connection and aspects of art community, deriving inspiration from these exchanges when they return to the studio.

A different kind of artist finds the whole business distracting, superficial, and intrusive. They would much rather do their work quietly, spend most of the time in the studio and take occasional walks in nature or chat with friends, family, non-artists, the mailman, to break routine. Management of exhibition details– galleries, directors, promotion, sales, shipping and transport etc. is enough worldly interaction for them.

My personal ratio is approximately 70% inner world and 30% outer life. I literally, need to be "aired" daily. If not, I risk locking myself inside my own little world. Day passes by without me and opportunities for renewal, refreshment, and recreation are lost. I start soliciting the cats for questions as if they really do understand my writing when I read it back to them. The art also suffers from too much attention. It becomes "clenched"– tight, muddy and overworked– especially when frustration drops in. Fortunately, I am saved because I do live in a neighbourhood with easy access to friends, a lake, and lots of parks and gardens. What variety in routine and habit I do force myself to make allows me to come back to the studio energized and ready to continue: a state of being, a modus operandi I’d like to sustain for as long as possible.

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