Robert Genn's Twice Weekly Letter
Insight and inspiration for your artistic career.

Dear Artist,

On the last day of the year several collectors were in my studio. They were looking to add to their collections or to buy afterthought gifts. These were old friends, so the Scotch and the laughs were important as well. But this sort of visitation always brings back memories of former anxieties.

In the old days, in expectation of visitors, taking a day or so to tidy up, I'd panic that I didn't have enough to show, that my work was substandard, and that I was inadequate. It was then that I'd renew my vows to show only through dealers. Struggling with my neurotic distaste for being sized up, considered, and--Gadzooks!--purchased, I destabilized myself. Quite an admission for a born-again entrepreneur. Fact is, the presence of visitors in the studio can be disturbing. It can put you off your game.

Just as the professional golfer can lose concentration over a remark or even a cough from the peanut gallery, artists can be put off by the mere presence of others in a position to pass judgment. However, it's good to realize that artists are always being put off by one thing or another. My inbox is currently loaded with exhaustive lists of all manner of personal problems--from abject poverty to noisy neighbors. I'm sure, upon reading this, artists will write and tell me of put-offs I haven't yet thought of.

Long ago I realized that keeping an eye on the ball was a big thing. For the self-directed creative person, maybe it's the only thing. How could I allow a few interlopers to set back the flow of my process? How could an artist allow any impediment to sack her?

I've taught myself to recycle quickly. This requires identifying the traps, a whack of self-understanding, and some calculated self-coaching. I always knew it had nothing to do with the visitors. It's in the head. The artist needs to take a vacuum cleaner to that part of the anatomy. It's a matter of shifting from one awareness to another. Run, don't walk. Energetic cardio-vascular sets you up. Startlingly loud music realigns the neurons. Through cacophony and sudden exercise, the art-making is re-identified as the main continuum--as solid and permanent as the pyramids. Further, a squeezed-out palette before the guests arrive is eager to be used when they leave. You're back on your game. "Was somebody here?"

Best regards,

Robert

PS: "Art is a form of supremely delicate awareness--meaning at-oneness, the state of being at one with the object." (D. H. Lawrence)

Esoterica: Activity itself is the key to concentration. Re-dedication to this principle brings art-awareness and the blessings that ensue. Among the thousands of confidential New Year's Resolutions coming in these days, the word "active," appears over and over. Artists are dedicating 2007 to more activity. Activity flies right over the traps. With activity, sensitivity is rebooted to bring joy to the hours. With activity, the hours become miracles. We have 8,760 hours waiting out there in 2007.