The Lardner Report

Unleash your creative superpowers!

Knowing When To Stop

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Guest post by Josh Kaplan

Did you ever watch Happy Days? I always used to be so envious of the Fonz, his confidence, his certainty that he was the absolute coolest guy in the room. Watch.

Everyone in this scene is trying to make sure they look their best before going out to face the world. Everyone except the Fonz. He takes one look and realizes nothing could improve on what he is seeing in the mirror.

Not many of us ever feel that way.

When you have been married long enough, you begin being able to understand the complex emotional tableau hidden in a simple word or phrase. One example in my house is the word “f**k.” When spoken forcefully, when it is the only word in the sentence, when it is delivered not with anger, but dissapointment, and self-recrimination, usually means only one thing. “I was working on a painting – it was really working, but I kept painting, kept adding layers, trying to make it perfect, and now it sucks.”  I’ve been through this with Lonnie a hundred times. It’s not unique to her, it is part of the yin and yang that lives close to the surface in any creative person’s soul.  The inner-critic, the subconscious naysayer that can cripple artistic expression.

Don’t get me wrong, there is a place for self-criticism. Bad things can happen when an artist reaches a point where the ability to judge one’s own work is silenced by success, or ego, or Jack Daniels. If you are looking for a tangible example, listen to a couple minutes of the Beatles “You Know My Name.” (Listen below.)

I think we would have all been better served if Lennon/McCartney had listened to a whispering voice of self-doubt.

But that’s an exception, for the most part our “inner critic” is just a roadblock between us and artistic viagra creation.

Yesterday, I saw what I considered a watershed moment in my house. One of the things Lonnie likes to do, is take one of my photographs, and use it as the literal canvas for one of her abstract pieces. Here’s an example  (Pic #1) — a shot I took of a rusty old bumper at a local junkyard.

(Pic #1) Left: Close-up, bumper 1940s era truck. Right: Same photo, w/Neocolor crayon markings

I love when she turns one of those quick unremarkable grab shots into something so much more interesting with just a few strokes of a crayon.

(Pic #2) Close-up photo of rattan roof - ripped, applied to canvas.

Earlier this week, she became intrigued by a shot I took of the rattan covering on our patio. Again, unremarkable. Her plan was to tear away the unnecessary parts, glue it to a canvas, and paint around it. When I next saw the photo, it was in fact, ripped along the edges, and glued to canvas. It was also hanging on the wall, a finished piece without benefit of any greater artistic embellishment. She had stopped along the way, looked at it, and decided that simple was better, that nothing more needed to be done, and pronounced the work complete. BREAKTHROUGH!

She took the time to breathe, to live with the artwork for awhile and silence the voices always screaming at her to do more.  Maybe those voices will be replaced by other ones, more supportive ones. Maybe in the meantime they’ll just be supplanted by a simple mantra: STOP. JUST STOP FOR A LITTLE WHILE.  Give yourself time to appreciate how good the piece really is, before you race to make it better. You may find it was like Fonzie’s hair — perfect all the while.

The Art of Letting Go

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It is with heavy heart that I share the news that the delicate nest lovingly built by our rufous hummingbird mother (photographed in the previous post) fell victim to a fairly wild winter storm 4 days ago. Nothing remains of her artful home after a two-week vigil over her tiny eggs.

I know it’s nature. I understand that it’s the cycle of life. But it still hurts to watch her work so devotedly, so tirelessly, with no return on her investment.  Still, the pure joy she brought me – and our home – seems immeasurable. Just by being there every day (only flying out occasionally to nourish her petite 3-inch frame) gave us a daily sense of wonder and appreciation. I must have checked on her and the nest 15 times a day, valium through the little peephole in our front door. She was the first task in the morning, and my last stop at night.

Then, when I opened the door to find her home ravaged by the wind, I felt as though I had been hit in the gut. It has taken a few days to emerge from my funk, but I take comfort in knowing some hummingbirds live anywhere from 3 – 10 years. So there’s always a chance she’ll be back.

In her honor, I post this inspiring nature video of another (successful) hummingbird nest with two siblings coming to life — and taking flight for the first time. I could take a cue from their mother — and learn how to gracefully let go.

 

The Art Of The Nest

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Nature's tiniest artist: Mother hummer prepares her nest with "found objects." Photo by Josh Kaplan.

Hummingbird Mom builds a functional home — and a stunning work of art.

She’s sitting in her flawlessly-crafted nest this very moment. Mother hummer has chosen the bougainvillea vine on our front patio as her maternity ward. We’ve decided to enter our house through the back door now because we don’t want to disturb her. After all, the gestation period for hummingbird babies is just 18 days. Last year she flew in (most likely from Mexico) to lay and incubate her two pea-sized eggs — but she unexpectedly left — without seeing her young break through. She’s back, and we want to make her stay as comfortable as possible.

The factoids on these magnificent creatures (listed below) may be sobering, impressive, and just hard to believe — but to me, the real story is the art and architecture emerging out of a bird that weighs less than a penny. I cannot stop examining the structure and beauty of this inch-and-a-half wide thriving little cup of nature. Our spotted “rufous” hummingbird has gathered the most delicate of leaves, dainty flower petals, and flexible twigs. She has camouflaged them with bits of lichen, and spun and glued the “found objects” together with borrowed spider webs. She has created one of the most intricate, and interesting functional collages I’ve ever seen. (Except maybe those of artist Elliot Hundley, Pic #2.)

Much like the work of contemporary “fiber artists” (Pic #3) Mother has sculpted a sort of free-form design with her organic materials, with the added benefit of a solid foundation on which she can raise her family.

Ten days to go. I’m a wreck.

(Pic #2) Assemblage of accumulated bits of lo-fi media, i.e., string, paper, photos and beading. By artist Elliot Hundley.

Pic #3 (Left): "Moth study" by fiber artist Erin Riche. (Right): Detail of crochet art by Margaret Hubert.

Just the Facts:

  • A hummingbird’s heart beats up to 1,260 times per minute.
  • While diving, her wings will beat up to 200 times per second.
  • She will take about 250 breaths per minute –while at rest.
  • They are the only birds who can fly forward and backward.
  • Some hummingbirds will travel over 2000 miles twice a year.
  • To extract nectar, she will visit an average of 1,000 flowers per day.
  • When hummingbirds sleep at night, they go into a hibernation-like state called torpor.
  • A hummingbird’s favorite color is red.