Being "liked" or "unliked" as an artist

Any artist who has submitted work to a juried art exhibit or approached a gallery director to show her/him their artwork has most likely had a few niggling, insecure thoughts about whether their artwork will be "liked." We want so much to not only have our work accepted, but approved. David Bayles and Ted Orland talk about this in their book Art & Fear. Chapter IV is dedicated entirely to our "Fears About Others," in which they say, "Acceptance means having your work counted as the real thing; approval means having people like it."

The last thing that I want as an artist is to have my work rejected or "unliked." It feels so personal. Many artists have a parental or sort of love connection with their art, which often makes it hard to sell and/or put it out into the world for others to have an opinion about it. I often have to work with fears that arise from feeling exposed. Art is that personal.

Fear of criticism is a close runner up to fear of rejection. Cay Lang writes in Taking the Leap that we as artists need to be open to criticism; it's how we learn about our audience. If I want to sell my art, then I need to understand what my audience (galleries, curators, historians, whomever) finds worthy of acceptance and approval. While these individuals may be educated in the principles of art, I still think the process of acceptance and approval is completely subjective. It's all about what a person likes.

In these recent blogs, I've been writing about the Eight Verses of Mind Training and am currently on Verse 5. This verse clearly indicates that whatever arises to not take it personally. The verse is usually applied to situations in which someone is blaming, scolding, or being verbally harsh. However, it seems appropriate to apply it to art world situations in which criticism or disapproval is being expressed.

Verse 5 (Rigpa translation):

Whenever someone out of envy

Does me wrong by attacking or belittling me,

I will take defeat upon myself,

And give the victory to others.

HH Dalai Lama clarifies in Transforming the Mind that whatever the provocation, instead of reacting negatively, we should be tolerant. HHDL has also talked at times about being discerning, that we need to care for ourselves, which may mean removing ourselves from abusive situations. Fortunately, my art world experiences haven't been abusive, just simply uncomfortable; experiences to which I can apply tolerance and understanding.

Despite personal discomfort, I will always ask why pieces of artwork have not been accepted. It helps quiet the endless speculations that my mind conjures up. And often the information is useful. Being mindful, tolerance, humble, and compassionate are acts of courage. I commend artists who face the fears that art challenges us with.

The image that I illustrated in gouache and color pencil which pertains to Verse 5 is of a duck. The saying of "let it roll off your back like water off of a duck" is a perfect description for tolerance and for not taking difficult comments personally. Being water-repellant or comment-repellant reminds me of what Sogyal Rinpoche calls having "non-stick minds." My wish for us all!

Next week is Verse 6 which encourages more patience and tolerance. Until then . . .

Be well,

Susan

Art and Healing

As I continue to consider how the Eight Verses of Mind Training relate to being an artist I find myself becoming more and more aware of my attitudes and opinions regarding my art and activity in the art world. Last week I began teaching a six week course called "Working With Grief Through Art." It is an honor to be able to share my experiences with my students on ways to heal emotions art-fully. I cherish those little flashes of joy and light that lighten grieving hearts when they paint something that is meaningful . . . or the art they've created reveals something new to them, something hopeful, that they felt they had lost. Art is healing in a really powerful way.

Theresa Rhando writes in Grieving: How To Go On Living When Someone You Love Dies, that "Grief is work." The term 'grief work' is just that, work. "It requires physical and emotional energy. It also requires activities to do." Art is a perfect tool for working with our suffering. The suffering that is experienced in grieving is outlined by Elizabeth Kübler-Ross' model of "Five Stages of Grief." These include denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Much of the process of suffering loss is painful. Art is a gentle and nurturing way to be with ourselves through these stages. Art allows us to be present, see what is, and open in a positive way.

I have heard from students that they aren't artists. The truth is that we all have creativity in us. As Shaun McNiff states in Art as Medicine, "Just paint. Begin to move the brush in different ways and watch what comes. If you paint, it will come." This I've seen again and again. That innocent freedom to be creative returns and so does joy.

What I'v written above relates very keenly to the fourth of the Eight Verses of Mind Training. The verse goes (Rigpa translation):

Whenever I see ill-natured beings,

Or those overwhelmed by heavy misdeeds or suffering,

I will cherish them as something rare,

As though I'd found a priceless treasure.

H.H. Dalai Lama explains in Transforming the Mind that "This verse refers to the special case of relating to people who are socially marginalized , perhaps because of their behavior, their appearance, their destitution, or on account of some illness." At first I thought this verse pertained primarily to murders, however, there are many degrees to which a person can become ill-natured or overwhelmed by suffering. Individuals or groups suffering from loss, whether it is grieving the loss of a loved one or of many loved ones lost in a disaster, behave unsociably, often look unkempt, and are certainly made ill by emotions and mental stress.

Why would helping others in these conditions be something to cherish or be a priceless treasure? It is a gift to be of service. It is being wisely selfish, at HH Dalai Lama says. We are all interconnected and to help others we are helping ourselves. Art is a tool I know how to use and it has helped me. I extend that experience, strength, and hope to my students. It gives me joy to see others heal.

Thank you to all the teachers, healers, artists, and art therapists working compassionately in this world.

The gouache and color pencil illustration I created for this verse is of a hyena. Hyenas are rather scruffy, bad table manners, loud, and hard to get along with. It's a light hearted symbolic connection to verse four.

Next week in verse five I'll write about trying to not take things personally.

Until then . . .

Be Well,

Susan

Art and Dignity

In my every action, I will watch my mind,

And the moment destructive emotions arise,

I will confront them strongly and avert them,

Since they will hurt both me and others.*

*Verse 3 of the Eight Verses of Mind Training

I remember Patrick Gaffney, one of Sogyal Rinpoche's principle students, giving a teaching on working with negative thoughts and emotions. He suggested that you view your mind as a garden and tend it from pests – like a large pig that is trying to get in and wreck havoc. Sometime we need to smack the pig on the nose to get it to leave the garden. As it is with negativity, sometimes we need to be firm in "watch[ing our] minds and driv[ing] out mental afflictions."

Only by being mindful of what we focus on and create can we have any hope of choosing to do no harm to ourselves and others. In previous blogs I wrote about the principles of bodhichitta, one of which is diligence. Choosing to follow a spiritual path requires that we practice principles of good diligently in all of our activities . . . Principles that cultivate love, compassion, kindness, wisdom and equanimity.

In regards to art I have found Chogyam Trungpa's writings very inspiring, especially his book Dharma Art. In the chapter "Art in Everyday Life" we read "Awareness practice is not just sitting meditation or meditation in action alone. It is a unique training practice in how to behave as an inspired human being. That is what is meant by being an artist."

So, to be an inspired human being we certainly can't be dragged down by negativity. We need to train the "elephant of our minds" through meditation and contemplation, by recognizing we have a choice in how we act, and to feed our minds with teachings that point to our true nature. Then, our authenticity will be revealed and we will be real artists. Artists not only of what we paint but what we create in our lives.

The image that I painted with gouache and colored pencil for this verse is of an elephant. There is a diagram in Tibetan teachings on "calm abiding" or shamatha in which the elephant represents the mind that we wish to train. In the diagram shows a monk is chasing an elephant at the beginning and by the end he is riding the tamed and purified elephant. The elephant also is a symbol of dignity. The Encyclopedia of Tibetan Symbols and Motifs by Robert Beer is an excellent resource for understanding Buddhist imagery.

May we all be able to tame our minds and act with dignity.

Be well,

Susan

What is a Humble Artist?

Most artists that I know are humble. They don't go around boasting of their magnificence and expecting the sea of crowds to part for them – an image that comes to mind is a stubborn, entrenched, loudly honking goose. I'm sure there are artists like that out there, and I've met one or two, but the majority of artists are humble.

When I read verse 2 of the Eight Verses of Mind Training I have a hard time with the wording. But what I think it is suggesting is that we see ourselves with humbleness, be gracious, and have respect for others. To be humble is not to be humiliated or degraded; it is to let go of an exaggerated and prideful opinion of oneself. I have also heard that being humble is to be teachable. I like that.

Here is verse 2 (Rigpa translation), you'll get its essence:

Whenever I'm in the company of others,

I will regard myself as the lowest among all,

And from the depths of my heart

Cherish others as supreme.

This can be confusing to me if I try to view if from my commercial/want to get ahead/competitive art field mentality. I mean, aren't I supposed to be über confident in my self and artwork, promoting both at every opportunity? Isn't that the path to becoming a known and successful artist? How am I to make it in the world if I follow the principles of verse 2? Verse 2 would imply that I recognize that I am one of billions of people on this planet; that I want to be happy just like everyone else; that the best way to be happy is to generate happiness; to listen with my whole being, to act with kindness, and to cherish every living creature because we are all interconnected with each other.

So, how can and do the principles of verse 2 effect my approach as an artist? It makes me think beyond myself and to be more human. Maybe I could be more open to learning from other artists. Or listen with an open mind to a critique of my work. Or rejoicing in the success of other artists. How would you apply this verse to your art and art world interaction?

Yesterday I read a beautiful article in Shambhala (July 2012) magazine by Thanissaro Bhikkhu entitle "I want to be . . . Loving." He suggests that to be skillfully loving is to have a simple attitude of goodwill by wishing others happiness. How as artists can we create more respect and goodwill?

An artist whose illustrations I love is Maryjo Koch. She is a bug and plant lover extraordinaire. In her book Dragonfly Beetle Butterfly Bee she makes the insect world delightful. I learned how necessary insects are and how interdependent we are to the work they do. I think her work is a lovely example of humbleness and respect.

The illustration that I created for Verse 2 is of a small ant. The symbolic reference is simply that ants are low to the ground and small in size (compared to humans that is) suggesting humbleness. It is with that view that I practice (and it does take practice) the root version of verse 2 by Geshe Langri Thangpa:

In particular, view yourself as lowly and cultivate respect for others.

Wishing you happiness and well being,

Susan

Eight Verses for Transforming the Artist Mind – V1

Being dedicated to training my mind in compassion and wisdom and expressing that in everything I do leads me to find tools to help me work with the challenges life presents. The Eight Verses of Mind Training are just that, tools that I can use to change my thinking. Even if my thinking changes just a little, sometimes that is enough to let a crack of light shine in to soften whatever dissatisfied thought is there.

The Eight Verses were written by a Buddhist master named Geshe Langri Thangpa in the 11^th century. He wrote them for his own use, to work with his own mind and heart. Because they are so inspiring, practitioners ever since have found them invaluable for training the mind. I first learned of the Eight Verses at a Loving Kindness retreat in Boston with Sogyal Rinpoche's student Andrew Warr. After that I read Transforming the Mind by H.H. the Dalai Lama which brought me deeper understanding into the "two wings" of compassion and wisdom. A recommended read!

Training the mind as the Dalai Lama notes in chapter one is an inner discipline. It is a choice I make because I believe that all of us want to be happy. In order to do that I have to start with myself first. Choosing to work with my mind and heart, to develop peace and contentment within myself, that is my commitment so that I may be a cause of good for others. This keeps me pretty busy, my mind is a full-time job. (There are many tools for inner discipline from every culture and spiritual path to fit each person's disposition.)

So what are the verses and how do they relate to art? Well, I thought we could start with Verse 1 and see how it goes. There are a few translations of the Verses and in this article I will be using a Ripga translation by Patrick Gafney.

Verse 1:

By thinking of all sentient beings

As more precious than a wish-fulfilling jewel

For accomplishing the highest aim,

I will always hold them dear.

Here's how I interpret this verse . . . If my aim is bodhichitta (enlightenment for the benefit of others); then the reason I am training my mind and heart is for all of us to attain enlightenment; so every sentient being (bugs, animals, trees, flowers, and people) are my purpose and therefore very precious. To hold them dear is to be grateful for and wish the best for them.

I still haven’t gotten to the art part. What comes to mind is what it is to be a working artist. In a day I can be painting, contacting galleries or venues for teaching, writing, bookkeeping, corresponding with students, any of which can involve ups and downs. So when things go wonkie what do I do to keep myself from spinning out? I check my attitude. If I can remember a verse, how precious this life is and the wonder-full-ness of the simplest things, a shift in my consciousness takes place. This helps me to respond with kindness to my stressed self first and then extend that outwards.

For example, I recently submitted a series of pieces to a show in Berkeley. I got an email saying my work wasn't accepted. It was a standard sort of rejection email which is often short in length without much feeling of personal connection. I've mentioned before how I don't really like rejection. So, I took a few breaths and decided I'd email back asking for more information about why my work was not accepted. I did this believing that the gallery director is like me and doesn't want to hurt anyone, just trying to work efficiently. I also felt that it would be helpful for me to know particulars so that I could apply what I learned to future submissions. I got an email back that same day. It was very helpful. First the director explained what she was trying to create as a whole with the show and then that they liked my work but it didn't fit with the overall flow. I felt grateful for the rejection email, my willingness to stretch, and the other person's kind and informative reply. A much better way for me to work with the situation instead of feeling bad.

Helpful hint: I've found it helpful to have visual reminders around my studio and office to keep me on track. Being a visual learner I wanted to create something that would help me remember the verses. I associated characteristics that we attribute to certain animals with aspects of each verse. The first verse has the word "dear" in the last line. This was easy to associate with the grace and gentleness of a deer. The image above is very small, created with gouache and colored pencil. I had bookmarks printed with the root version of the verses and corresponding animal image. The pith or root version (by Geshe Langri Thangpa) for Verse 1 is:

Cultivate the view that all beings are extremely kind.

I keep my study-bookmarks around here and there as reminders when I need to regain my focus.

Stay tuned next week for Verse 2.

Be well,

Susan

Auspicious Inner Support - images of humor and impermanence

In Tibetan symbolism there are the Eight Auspicious Symbols. They include the Parasol, the Golden Fishes, the Treasure Vase, the Lotus, the Conch Shell, the Endless Knot, the Victory Banner, and the Wheel. These symbols signify good fortune and are generally used in events marking new beginnings, gratitude, and for blessing on activities. Both Robert Beer's Tibetan Symbols (Shambhala Pub., 1999) and Dagyab Rinpoche's Buddhist Symbols (Wisdom Pub., 1995) are incredible resources for uncovering the deep and rich meanings behind buddhist symbolism. I have spent many hours reading and reflecting on the images in both these texts. Both books have detailed descriptions and utilization of the Eight Symbols and suggest that they go far beyond a cultural wish for well being; they embody the most profound truths about life, death and happiness as taught by the buddhas.

Upon contemplating these symbols in relationship to inner support I immediately saw a connection between the human skeleton and the basic aspects of each symbol's attributed blessing. For example the Golden Fishes generally wish one to have abundance and fertility in all aspects of their lives. This idea relates to the pelvic and hip bones, their ability to support the body in reproduction and creative energy.

Bones also have a deeper significance of our impermanence and death. Georgia O'Keefe and Frieda Khalo painted bones and their poignant relevance in our acceptance of life cycles. Cultures such as Tibetan and Mexican embrace this lightness and humor in their images of bones and skeletons. These images reflect the integrated understanding that there is no separation between life and death. Often there is such humor expressed in these images that one sees the lightness beyond the grim. Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche writes, "A genuine sense of humor is having a light touch: not beating reality into the ground but appreciating it with a light touch." (Shambhala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior, Shambhala. p 32.)

Choosing aspects of the human body for symbolic reference is not new to me. In a flash of artistic vision I saw that the Eight Symbols corresponded with aspects of my skeletal structure, our inner support system. I found this delightful and place for play. It is interesting to note that Dagyap Rinpoche included a translation of The Heap of Good Fortune Sutra (Symbols, p.32) in which the Eight Symbols are compared to the head, eyes, neck, tongue, speech, hands, body, and feet. In further reflection and sketching flowers appeared. Perhaps Georgia O'Keefe and Frieda Khalo were inspiring me with these ideas. Yet, it made sense to incorporate flowers and the meaning associated with them into these drawings. It was as if the bones were the structural means and the flowers the compassionate wisdom.

Bone meal is often used to fertilize flower gardens, blossoming new life. Flowers are culturally used to express joy, love, sympathy, purity, and much more. Combined with the bone images are specific flowers that encourage contemplation of death and rebirth, impermanence and enlightenment, compassion and wisdom, and the precious good fortune of inner support.

This series of eight illustrations layer the Eight Auspicious Symbols with structured areas of the human skeleton and the integral beauty of life experienced through flowers. I created them with Prisma pencil over watercolor wash on cotton rag paper (10" x 10"). The representational/narrative quality is intentional to create a feeling of underlying humor.

Be well,

Susan

Breakthrough: Painting Through the Dark

When I lost both my parents and husband within the year's time I was fortunate to have a spiritual program, supportive friends and health care professionals. However, time felt endless, hours dragged and nights, as you can imagine, were dark. Over the cycle of a year and especially a period of excruciating weeks I had to find ways to focus beyond my debilitating anxiety and depression.

I turned to art. While I have a background in art this may have been a natural place for me to turn. Yet I had to force myself to paint. I had to agree with myself that I would do at least one painting a day during the darkest weeks. This may seem like it was easy but don't be fooled. Anxiety and depression make everything hard. It was hard to see or find the point to anything. That was my experience.

Creativity became one of the strengtheners, courage builders, which carried me through panic and terror. At my kitchen counter I had a "care station" set up with my art supplies where I could paint at any moment standing up. (Part of the anxiety experience was that my back and legs shook, quaked, and standing while I painted seemed to help).

First I used a huge Sharpie then I moved to a large box of unused tubes of acrylic paints. The consistency reminded me of finger paint and the bold colors seemed appropriate somehow. Also, I decided I would only paint with my left hand, my non-dominant hand.* This was different than the art that I usually did which were small, detailed illustrations. My thinking was to access the child in me who was free and without concepts of how the painting (and life) should look. It wasn't about looking good. The paper was nothing special, a large 18" x 24" sketch pad. I needed room to scribble and move.

Each day I'd go to my art station whenever I needed to. I would say to my inner girl, "OK, I don't know what you want to paint today. . . you show me." I wouldn't think of anything really, maybe a question or wish, but no set idea. It felt good to quiet my mind. I just let my left hand choose the colors and then feel how the brush felt on the paper. I let the brush move where it seemed to want to go.

These painting moments brought me relief, if only for the time period I was actually painting. I was often surprised and delighted by the images that came out. It was as if my small, sweet inner-self was encouraging me to feel better. Grace was working through my inner child. I painted whatever I wanted and the innocent joy that came out was so contrary to how I felt, it gave me hope; hope that I would emerge from the desperate darkness.

As I said, the anxiety and depression lasted about a year. I did get through it, one day at a time, one painting at a time. The process was neither a spiritual crisis nor nervous breakdown, although the medical world may call it that, it was a spiritual breakthrough. Inside, I found resilience and resolve. You can too. May this article and paintings help those in need of hope.

Be well.

Disclaimer: No part of this article in any way suggests that you replace professional help with art. If you are anxious and/or depressed go see your doctor. The information is this article is an activity you can do as extra support for your wellbeing.

*Non-Dominant Painting© Susan Keale