What we don’t see is just as crucial as what we do see.
What do we infer when we see only a portion of an element or image?
 
Mistakes:
“Mistakes are your guides to matters you need to reconsider or develop further” (Bayles & Orland, 1993, p. 31). Art is never flawless, and anything we do is a guide for the next piece, whether in skill, idea, or material.
 
I find myself experimenting with different ways of interpreting my thoughts, and having a couple of different ideas/explorations going at the same time. It seems to keep my pencil moving even when one idea stalls, or I need to seek information in a different way, or to test out an unpredictable idea. It also allows me to be less afraid of imperfection.

Picture Element 0.5
 
For me there is something profoundly remarkable about the smallest measure of any one component; hardly viewable to the naked eye, almost non-existent or at least imperceptible unless we’re looking for it. As a whole or grouped together these smallest of elements brings a thing to life, moving and breathing together. Today I also gave some thought to the downside of the smallest measure of an element. The tiniest of fragments of any one form or image only gives us a partial representation of the whole, maybe a little like the microcosm that is social media, snippets on the news, or a picture in a magazine. This has got me thinking and pondering...
 
Scratching and Creativity:
Tharp (2003) calls the rooting around of ideas scratching. She says that ideas are everywhere, all around us, all the time, but that good ideas come from those that turn us on. You know you’re onto a good idea because it will generate more ideas. I have found this to be true of any personal artwork that I embark on. It’s turning out to be true of the idea I’ve been developing during this project. If I don’t connect with an idea, I become very bored, and agitated. As a commercial artist, I often must dig hard for a connection and sometimes just barrel through a project, because the ideas aren’t always my own. But, cultivating my own creative habit, scratching at my own ideas, allows me to think about things that matter and resonate with me. That habit also makes it easier when those projects that aren’t my own. As an educator, this is something I see as necessary to keep in mind when encouraging creativity for students.  
 
Fear:
Uncertainty is a big factor for fear during creativity (Bayles & Orland, 1993). I think it must be one of the bigger reasons for making creativity hard to want foster, know how to support, and continue to grow. Uncertainty comes about from what you want to say, the materials you want to use, and whether you’ll be satisfied with the work or not. This fear manifests itself in irritation, apathy, distraction. I found that over the last five days of this project I have felt some sort of fear on four of those days, and those little manifestations of uncertainty happened each and every time. To get through it I just keep my pencil on the paper, even if I am just doing a repeating pattern of shapes. I also realize that most of what I create will not be good by my own standards, but there will be some. So I will keep scratching away.

Human cells are made up of various compounds or differing molecules stuck together, also known as biomolecules. Same structure cells form tissue which forms organs, then an organ system, then an organism. Cells can be beautiful and come together in giant structural masses. As a side fact, there are over 30 trillion cells in the human body, and a little over half are considered bacterial. It sounds icky, but bacterial cells are a part of life and can even be more visually beautiful than other cells.
 
I find myself thinking about things pertaining to this creativity project throughout the day. Taking along a small sketchbook wherever I go is helpful in jotting down thoughts or ideas, as well as sketching as inspiration hits. Driving in my car brings up the most thoughts oddly enough, but I haven’t figured out a way to sketch, write, and drive at the same time. Maybe it’s like that because it’s a quiet space, and I only have to concentrate on the one act of driving.
 
I was asked the other day what my ritual is for allowing creativity into my everyday routine. I hadn’t given that a lot of thought yet, and really for the last few years creativity as a ritual has taken a big backseat.  I do realize that before I sit down to create anything I have to have my basic, daily chores done. I can’t have the dishes hanging over my head, or the pile of laundry looming at me like a giant hairy monster. My creativity doesn’t do well in that environment. But, ultimately having a set daily time to give thought to, play, and explore ideas has been in a giant, ugly void.
 
Twyla Tharp (2003) says that “turning something into a ritual eliminates the question, why am I doing this” (p.15)? And, I should say that ominous query creeps up in my mind often. I hate it when it does too. A set ritual should help to erase that question. So I’ve decided making a set ritual/schedule to be creative is something I will be implementing into this study and beyond. After all why should my daily ritual of doing the dishes, something I loath, be more important than sitting down and being creative.
 
Fear:
“Fears arise when you look back, and they arise when you look ahead. If you’re prone to disaster fantasies you may even find yourself caught in the middle, staring at your half-finished canvas and fearing both that you lack the ability to finish it, and that no one will understand it if you do” (Bayles & Orland, 1993, p. 14). This sums up my fears that last couple of days. Why? Because my vision is racing ahead of my execution (Bayles & Orland, 1993). I see the work much more clearly than I can execute it. This is normal though for even a master artist and it's as it should be. The need for more precise execution, will continue to help me push the work forward.

Start with a box:
I see pixels much like human cells. Each is individually contained, consisting of a somewhat unique code of existence, yet they communicate and fit together with others producing an interesting outward-facing image. I wonder what breaking down our human reality into water, protein, DNA, or carbohydrate molecules does for our knowledge of our basic existence. What does that say about how we exist and navigate in the world today? I wonder what that looks like visually.
 
These thoughts have been occupying my mind lately as I embark on creatively and visually processing information. I have been filling my box, as Twyla Tharp suggests with research and information as I move forward.
 
Creativity:
I have come to believe that creativity is like the pixel or molecule, it is a basic element or foundation of art, or at least that’s the way it should be thought of. I think though it often becomes forgotten or maybe taken for granted in the art studio classroom. But, it shouldn’t be. It takes work, and needs structure to be learned and used in and beyond the art studio room. I have also come to believe that ambiguity keeps us from appreciating and utilizing this most basic of art’s functions as artists and art teachers. To deal with the little phrase of I don’t know can be monumental for some or if not most.
 
Starting with what you know, and filling the box with notes and inspiration and research of what you don’t know is key.
 
My fear factor today is low. I have lots of ideas, so much so that I need to slow it down and remember small moves. “All you can work on today is directly in front of you. Your job is to develop an imagination of the possible” (Bayles & Orland, 1993, p. 16).

Picture : Pix  -  Element : El

Memory - Work from what you know to what you don’t know:
When I was just starting out in my career in the video game industry, I was what was fondly referred to as a pixel pusher, a non-official title to be sure, but an apt name nonetheless. I sat at a computer and clicked away on those little square digital elements to delete them, add them, or change their color. I stared at them for hours, zooming in to see them individually, zooming out to see one or more in relation to all the others. The back and forth with this four-equal-sided shape would be a key artistic relationship for me for years.
 
I think it may also have helped shape the way I look at the world. That is to say, I often find myself looking for the details in the bigger picture, wanting to peer inside the inner workings of things. I’m always looking to find the very basic of elements that makes something the way it is, maybe I’m looking for a connection of sorts to other things, or maybe even a leveling of perceived differences.
 
These things that I know, and the things that I don’t know and that I’m curious about is where my process begins.
 
So, what’s needed today:
What’s really needed is nothing more than a broad sense of what you are looking for, some strategy for how to find it, and an overriding willingness to embrace mistakes and surprises along the way. Simply put, making art is chancy – it doesn’t mix well with predictability. (Bayles & Orland, 1993, p. 21)
 
What am I looking for, in a broad sense? I’m looking for the basic elements of existence within a square paper environment with the most basic of artist tools, graphite, a tool that I know well. The works will attempt to capture connecting moments within those smallest of elements.
 
My first fear is that what I’m looking for doesn’t make sense to anyone else, and maybe not even totally to me yet, but then again it doesn’t really have to. It’s the beginning of an artistic process. It’s what I’m looking for, and I’ll have to be open to the surprises that come with searching and doing.