Focus on your 37 minutes? Are you crazy? Paint drys. I work with fiber and textiles- a mutable medium that still retains its mutability for well- ever. I can spend several dozen hours just cutting up a hundred different textiles and that's only prep work. Then there's the laying out of a design- and just the first stage of construction. Hours and hours. And hours. Then the second and third phases of construction come into play. And then when I'm finally finished with just the construction part there are still several more phases/processes to go through. And for just one piece. Then I have to find the other parts with include surface cords and a fabric backing and may require a shopping trip. And then there's set-up time. And then a few weeks later- if I'm lucky and the piece isn't too big I finish with the hand-stitching phase and then there's still the finishing phase and that may only happen after I've set the piece aside for a couple of months. And time between any of the earlier phases may also come into play- as I'm working on many things at once. Hours and days and weeks and months. For ONE PIECE. And the only way to do what I do is to have an unbelievably long attention span and the ability to FOCUS my wonderfully balanced right/left brain with my dancing and moving to the music I've programmed into endless meditations. Of course- working in this kind of focused manner means I also stop working whenever I feel like it and just go screw around. Literally. 37 minutes? Whatever floats your boat!

I think we have a case of shrinking sands in the hourglass. Or has it sprung a leak?
I think it's basically a question of time compression! Time flies when one is enjoying it and crawls when one isn't. We talk about "time standing still", "taking our time", "time and tide waiting for no man", "time flying", whatever native language we speak. We all have moments (positive or negative) like that, for instance after a shock or - dare I mention it - sex. The clock governs our whole lives, even when we aren't "pushed for time". 37 minutes will not cook a joint of roast beef, but it’s the death of a boiled egg!
So how much can one get done in roughly half an hour? I often give myself set times to complete boring tasks and then praise myself profusely if I've managed to avoid being distracted. The only way to judge the value of the 37 minute painting task would be to try it under exactly the same conditions. Maybe reproduce that collage as a sketch, copy part or all of a painting that was a big struggle to finish, or make something entirely new or different.
Referring specifically to Bruce's comment, I would not count the preparation time in the 37 minutes, but anyway, I don't think that kind of art production can be condensed into a small time frame (Rome wasn't built in a day) since the preparation of the various elements is an intrinsic part of the finished work. The talk here is of a very small canvas being "given the once over"; the preparation time has to be negligible (compressed) and that forces the painter to either fall back on something already familiar (and memorized) or plunge head-first into the unknown. Either way, it's certainly physically possible to cover 11”x14” in a good half hour. But the aim can’t be to create a masterpiece (though it could happen, of course). Unnecessary nibbling at a piece of art in progress can ruin it. That extra half hour devoted to improving it could be the death-bell tolling.

I forgot to mention that Salvator Dali was so preoccupied with the element of time and its irrelevance that it comes up time and time again in his work (sorry about the pun). His most famous painting of the pocket watch melting (entitled "the persistence of memory/meaning") is slightly smaller than the 11x14 canvases (9.5" x 13" to be exact) used in the 37 min task, but I don't suppose he finished it that fast.... And yes, I have seen the original and was as shocked as anyone at how small (and perfectly executed) it is.

OMG! There's going to be a run on hourglasses on eBay!!!
Back in the 60's I met a young art student in Santa Barbara, who had just returned from Spain. He was sketching on the beach in front of Dali's house, when the Great One Himself came by and checked him out. Dali's remark? "That's a pretty good drawing, but you're too slow''. Facility comes with practice, no musicians get manual dexterity from just 'imagining' they can play well. Painting can be a gentle progression or a RUSH-- and it's exciting to notice how it feels to spend our energy under different circumstances and time constraints. I love being pushed by the rising tides at the beach or the brillance of a fleeting sunrise in an exotic locale. Just being outside in Nature pushes the envelope and alerts my senses, and the hourglass idea would make the studio environment a hotbed of intensity. For now, I will settle for setting my cell phone alarm and "GO!"

I like this idea since I think I paint too tight, too detailed. I am a beginner at this painting thing. I am using acrylic paint and inks. Have yet to paint a canvas (want to try that soon) working on paper right now. As a exercise for myself to get away from too much detail, I have decided to paint my Christmas cards this year (about 20 or so). My goal is work simply and relatively fast to create individual cards. I figure I can't lose, either I get a set of cards worthy of giving to others and if not, I have completed an exercise to improve my painting!

In my watercolor classes years ago a student (one obviously very familiar) said he could paint a better piece than my demo only using 20 brush strokes. He tried one and I said I could do better with only 10. We finally got it to five.
What it revealed was how the students needed to think out each stroke before putting brush to paper.
No masterpieces were done, of course, but our silly game turned out be be a great exercise in quick planning. Nothing we did that way ever took anything like 37 minutes.
Decide your color, load your brush, plan your move and give this a shot. It's fun and helpful.

Time is illusory. At a basic physical level, it changes depending on your movement. Aboard a vehicle at almost light speed that 37 minutes would be much much longer for someone (relatively) still. Sometimes it seems to go quickly, sometimes slowly. I like to think painting--and so many other things-- occurs outside of time. That sometimes appears to be the case, until, when I'm at my French easel on a hillside, I realize I'm a middle aged man who needs to find a restroom again.

If I was in such a hurry as the captain of the Titanic, I could argue the point that fast is not always the right choice.

However, there are times when I am not paying attention to the clock, that I realize I have done some good work in a short period of time. As for me, I would burn the hourglass. And I would not pay attention to how long it took to be destroyed. I habe no time clock in my studio. Leave that to the time punchers who count the hours to get home to heir loved ones.

http://www.ghangebrauck.com/

This is almost exactly what I do each day as I paint 'en plein air' in the field. With the shifting of sun and shadow, I find that the quicker I paint, the better the painting and more satisfied I feel. Who knew it had anything to do with increased focus, although it makes perfect sense. Thanks for qualifying something I had known but did not realize the reason for.

When I get 'into' a painting, time stops, sounds are unheard and I am in an isolated place where nothing penetrates I am in and part of the painting. I feel in my own leg the miss-shape of the elk"s leg in the painting. I am intimate with the scene; all senses present and alert. This is a place I go where no other can enter. It always amazes me how much progress is made during these times.
I am sure that this happening is not unique and is experienced by many dedicated and enthusiastic artists.

I have been receiving your letters for quite some time now and have found the comments, insight and wisdom of not only you but your readers as well to be beneficial to me in many aspects of my life and art work.
Although the one thing that has bothered me is that as a watercolorist one must do detailed drawings and precisely plan out a painting – if not you end up with a puddle of mud. Making many of your suggestions for “go with the flow” intuitive paintings and focused mad dash paintings well – to say the least frustrating when attempted.
So, I would like to put it out there to your readers that are watercolorist; what have you or are you doing as a watercolorist when attempting intuitive and mad dash paintings to make them a success and not a mud puddle?

I have a group of 11 year old girls and i am trying to free them up through speed exercises. Great fun. It's not just that it creates energy but also helps them see the energy in front of them.

I have been receiving your newsletter for about a year now and have to say I have enjoyed it very much. I find it very interesting to see what it is that "rocks the boat" of other artists.
Your topic today really spoke to me and I find myself compelled to share with you a video I had produced last year about my artistic journey marking my 25th year since I began painting. I went to Greece for the first time and actually feel I woke up over there to the idea of painting and writing full time. I also had a exhibit marking my 25th year and did some writing about each piece. Having never written before I found I was on a new adventure with my art. Like you said in your letter, art is about the process with outcomes both good and bad and I would even go one step further to say all outcomes should be embraced as a necessary part of creating.
The video is about 8min long. I have also included my website which will be updated soon.
I thank you for your time and your sharing of ideas.

As a collector, not a painter, when I see hesitancy and lack of confidence evident in a work, I too lose confidence.

Now I understand why my plein air paintings are so much more lively than my studio works! My studio advisor at NSCAD, Gerald Ferguson, unexpectedly passed away last Thursday. Although his own practice was very experimental (his work is described in "Abstract Painting in Canada" by Roald Nasgaard), he also prided himself on being able to teach representational painters such as myself. He encouraged me to study my favourite artist, Tom Thomson, and to try to emulate his vigorous and colourful brushstrokes.

Every Monday evening, I hire a model for an instructed three hour class of drawing in my studio for anyone who cares to participate. We start with two, then five, then ten, then fifteen and finally end with three twenty-five minute poses. The shorter poses often produce the most interesting work. Here is a five minute one. The model is often aided by Sushi, my cat.

I remember in art school there would be daily assignments and exercises. How the instructors came up with some of these experiments was beyond me.
I would often, after hearing the day's task, look at the instructor and say "You want me to do what?"
Some were stimulating and experimental, others were pedestrian and predictable.
Artists need to know that nothing is right and nothing is wrong, it is about stirring up the inner voice.
Students, especially, need to know that the BULK of the greatest work of their life should be done OUT of art classes.
I look at a lot of artists work and they usually show me what they have done in school that was part of an assignment.
It is difficult to really understand what an artist is trying to communicate when the only work they have, is part of an exercise.
I want to see an artists sketch book and see what inner voice is coming through.
Yes, artists need to learn technique and schooling can offer the discipline that is required to work beyond the confines of the classroom.
But following an assignment and getting an "A" or a Gold Star on their work is nothing more than navel gazing!
These exercises stick out like a sore thumb on the horizon of an artists work...

Using a timer to do a painting in any medium sounds like someone wants to turn it into an Olympic event.

In his book, "The Natural Way to Draw" Nicolaides writes "In order to concentrate, one can act furiously over a short period of time or one can work with calm determination, quietly, over a long extended period. In learning to draw, both kinds of effort are necessary and the one makes a precise balance for the other."

In my food chemistry class, we learned about "high temperature, short time" or "low temperature, long time" cooking methods (e.g. stir fry vs. crock pot) both of which can produce different but delicious results.

Hmmm...I think I'm an oddball here (and that's quite ok:) I absolutely LOVE taking my sweet time while creating a piece. Paint a stroke, then look at it for a few minutes, paint another stroke, take a sip of coffee, paint another stroke, pet my dog. I think whatever works for you in the end is good process.

That's me – one of the painters in the class photo! Serious but happy is an understatement. I am still pumped from attending that workshop and taking part in the legendary exercise.
This great exercise on focus resulted in a wonderful counterpoint: looseness. As the sand grains fell, I thought and felt: be in the moment, block out the clutter, stay on track, let go of the details, stay with it. And the outcome was a seeming opposite to my rendered studio paintings! Two years ago, I returned to painting after a brief 30 year break. Now I am a seeker – on the fast track to learning everything I can. Painting, reading, drawing, listening, I take it all in. The 37 minute painting took me back to my early roots of a 70’s drawing class where we pursued looseness, movement, freedom, finding the form – completely different than my recent detail work. I have faith the two will merge into my own style. Patience is my byword this month, this season. And I am seriously happy about it all.

In response to Laura about watercolourists. I once had the good fortune to take one of Dick Nelson's tri-hue watercolour workshops. In that only three colours are used, and the key is they are transparent. You could achieve any colour with these three. I just discovered that his workshop materials are on line now at http://dimensionsofcolor.com/
You can see one of the colour grids I did here - I have done a few more since as practice because I have been on a steep learning curve, coming to painting later in life. This approach really helped me understand both colour and watercolour, and subsequently, oil painting.
http://www.redberryart.ca/node/112

Whenever I take a workshop, I always create several paintings that are very good - not necessarily my usual style - but good enough to frame and sell. I think this is because of the inherent time constraints and (pseudo-) low expectations. No time to do a super-detailed drawing; no time to go back into a watercolor wash, to time to fuss over the result, no expectations for a masterpiece. But for the life of me, I can't seem to stick to this way of working in my studio. Well, I guess I'll just hunker down and keep trying to change :-)

I'm so happy you addressed the issue of focusing. I just ordered the book Rapt: Attention and the Focused Life from Amazon and am hoping for some good tips. I liked that hourglass trick and I'm painting now with an egg-timer going. Maybe I'll finally finish this piece that has been dragging on.

Focus and time limits- works for me. Small size canvases are also good tools to increase focus. The first one or two might not be stellar, but you can bet that by the time you've painted several more that learning curve is evident. When I have an appointment coming up and less than an hour to spend in the studio, I've done my best starts. And in my book, it's all about the start...the rest of the painting paints itself. In the end it doesn't matter what you tell yourself in order to get into the studio and begin squeezing out, as Robert says. Any old excuse will do, the point being that once you're in front of the easel with a palette and brush in hand you are entering a portal to another level of time, or non-time. A creative black hole, an Alice down the rabbit hole, a turning on of the muse.....when next you look up and four hours have past. Maybe that's why I never make it to my appointment!

I've also become interested in attention and focus. I've lately been reading Flow by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi.
When I'm painting I'm trying to first access and then maintain the flow and also trying to help my art students access that elusive mental space. I feel it as soon as I pick up a pencil to demo continuous line contour-it's almost a centering feeling. I can't think of another way I'd like to spend my time- unless I'm with friends eating Thai or Japanese food.

Here are the 9 characteristics of "flow". I've found thinking about these goals really helps in teaching. Painting is challenging activity and I want my students to feel successful.

1. Clear goals (expectations and rules are discernible and goals are attainable and align appropriately with one's skill set and abilities). Moreover, the challenge level and skill level should both be high.
2. Concentrating, a high degree of concentration on a limited field of attention (a person engaged in the activity will have the opportunity to focus and to delve deeply into it).
3. A loss of the feeling of self-consciousness, the merging of action and awareness.
4. Distorted sense of time, one's subjective experience of time is altered.
5. Direct and immediate feedback (successes and failures in the course of the activity are apparent, so that behavior can be adjusted as needed).
6. Balance between ability level and challenge (the activity is neither too easy nor too difficult).
7. A sense of personal control over the situation or activity.
8. The activity is intrinsically rewarding, so there is an effortlessness of action.
9. People become absorbed in their activity, and focus of awareness is narrowed down to the activity itself, action awareness merging.

I just completed a two day work shop with Liz Witzen and we never completed a painting. We painted models, two beautiful young ballet dancers in tights and tutus. In this workshop we did timed exercises of only 30 sec. 2 minute 10 minutes and finally 20 minutes. Talk about time restraints. I was surprised that any of us got anything on the canvas. Then we simply wiped it off and started again with another pose. It was quite an exhausting process but I believe I learned a lot and continue to do a 20 minute painting each morning. I am learning to observe whether I like it or not. Simply blocking in, observing the light and darks and trying to recreate the shapes,value, edges,and what I call the gist of the subject was and is a challenge. It make me get out of bed the day after the workshop excited to get going to see what I could create in 15 minutes. I was surprised at this workshop but feel that I have a tool to improve my work. Yes time restrains do help, just try to tell that to my Left Brain its very up set.