The Lardner Report

Unleash your creative superpowers!

The Fear Factor: Make It Work For You

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(Pic #1) “Little Monsters” – My first sketch with a stylus on the new iPad, using an app called “Pro Create.”  Totally freaking.

Learning something new can blast you into a supercharged creativity zone.

New tech? Color me paralyzed. It happens every time I’m introduced to a new fangled gadget or upgrade. Heck, for the longest time I even balked at learning the tech of blogging. But my fearless techie friend Amy sat me down in 2010 for weekly sessions until I was able to “enter through the back door” as they say, and troubleshoot my own writings and photo layouts. I went kicking and screaming, but she swears I was just a big baby with irrational fears of technology.

(Pic #2) Illustration by San Diego artist Beau Hufford, using the Pro Create App.

Fast forward 8 years: I’m still kicking and screaming, but the difference is I’m starting to use my fear to make each new artistic experience an exciting adventure. Yesterday, I bought a new iPad, and it was my first day using a stylus (on the screen of any device) — and it felt weird. But exhilarating. My good friend and life-long illustrator (Pic #2) Beau Hufford told me about the insane Pro Create App, and I had to jump in.

I expected to be frustrated and clueless when I started, and guess what — I was right. But the joy I felt in teaching myself something fresh and new far outweighed any angst. In fact, I couldn’t put the pen down. I couldn’t stop exploring all the digital paint brushes, fat and skinny lines, magic markers, and a tool that shoots out spray paint in real time.

The cool bonus in learning new things like this is that it’s good for your brain. According to CCSU Business & Development, “practicing a new skill stimulates neurons, which forms more neural pathways and allows electrical impulses to travel faster across them.” That means we learn better. It can even help us stave off dementia.

And oh, by the way — these innovative artistic experiences end up being way cheaper than therapy.

Which Wolf Are You Feeding?

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(Pic #1) Digitally “defacing” the Modoc overpass in Santa Barbara. Photo by Josh Kaplan.

A Cherokee parable awakens the need to feed my soul.

Sometimes my husband makes me feel like a fraud. It’s one of the reasons I love him.  We went to visit friends in Santa Barbara last weekend, and on the way back we stopped at an overpass where I had noticed some cool graffiti. We took a few pictures, then I had this idea about digitally vandalizing one of the overpass supports. I posed with brush in hand, and later put in the words “Art is All.” (Pic #1)

Later, he asked me why I chose those words. I gave him a look that said “I married a moron.” But he pushed for an answer. I said, “It has a double meaning for me. Back to front, and front to back. I believe you can find art in anything (All is Art), and art is the thing that animates me, it’s even at times, my deity (Art is All). He liked that, and congratulated me on my world view. Then he added, that to be more accurate, shouldn’t it be, “Art is All — when I make the time for it, or when I’m not intimidated by it, or when I’m not busy doubting my artistic vision or skills?”  Then he asked me how long it had been since I had painted. A**hole.

It had been two weeks. Quite a big deal, considering I preach, lecture, stand up for, and maybe even proselytize about consistent creative output. Naturally I got defensive, reminded him that tending to my corporate duties was more important. He immediately apologized. I piled on with all the administrative work I’ve been doing for our non-profit. He threw up his hands and said he was sorry again. Game over, I win.

Except… later in the day he was talking about this Netflix Series called “Ozark,” which he told me about last week. (I’m up to Episode 7 and It’s a phenomenal series.) We talked about the twists and turns of the plot, and the amazing performances.  I awoke the next morning to see this in my inbox.  Double A**HOLE.

So now to the old parable, attributed to an old Cherokee grandfather….a sobering story that makes me firmly take sides:

Point taken. What my dear, immensely annoying husband was pointing out was that lately, I have been feeding the wrong wolf. So my somewhat tardy New Year’s resolution: feed the right wolf. For me that starts with picking up a paint brush — which, if you will excuse me, I am going to do right now.

This Year: Embrace Your Cracks and Quirks

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The Japanese call it Kintsugi — “The Art of Precious Scars.”

I don’t want to get too “zen” on you this early in the year — but– If you are overly self-critical about your work or your art, imagine being freed from that judgment and actually celebrating the goofs and flaws that emerge out of what you make. OMG. Wouldn’t that be a total kick?

Kintsugi teaches that broken objects are not something to hide — but to display with pride. Typically, when a bowl or precious vase falls and breaks into a thousand pieces, we toss them out. But this practice offers an alternative. Kintsugi holds that the breaks and defects actually enhance the work — thus adding value to the broken object.

This ancient “art of mending” lets the repair become a beautiful part of an object’s history. It’s a traditional Japanese art that uses a precious metal – liquid gold, liquid silver or lacquer dusted with powdered gold – to connect the broken fragments. (Kintsugi translates to “golden joinery.”) Every repaired piece is unique, because of the randomness with which ceramics shatter. (Check out the video below.) Metaphorically, the practice relates to the Japanese philosophy of “wabi-sabi” which asks that we see beauty in the flawed or imperfect. According to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the repair method was also born from the Japanese feeling of “mottainai” which expresses regret when something is wasted.

History:

The practice dates back to the late 15th century, when according to legend, Japanese shogun Ashikaga Yoshimasa sent a cracked tea bowl back to China to undergo repairs. Upon its return, Yoshimasa was displeased to find that it had been mended with unsightly metal staples. This motivated contemporary craftsmen to find an alternative.

Personally, with the new year looming ahead, I am looking forward to incorporating this philosophy and practice into my daily life. I know I have plenty of quirks and cracks to share and appreciate, and who knows — this could be a great solution for my ever-deepening crow’s feet.