A New Artistic Paradigm

Once upon a time, when journalism was journalism, gossip was gossip, and propaganda was recognized for what it is, aspiring beat writers learned to begin their news stories by answering six basic questions: Who? What? Where? When? Why? and How? 

The useful mnemonic device has a history stretching back to Cicero, although early rhetoricians framed the questions differently, and the form evolved over time. Perhaps most famously, Rudyard Kipling, in his well-known Just So Stories (1902), included this bit of verse in a tale he called “The Elephant’s Child.”

I keep six honest serving-men
(They taught me all I knew).
Their names are What and Why and When
And How and Where and Who.
I send them over land and sea,
I send them east and west;
But after they have worked for me, I give them all a rest.

Questions beginning with one of these six famous words are especially useful for information gathering, since none can be answered with a simple “yes” or “no”.  Anyone hoping to write an informative news story, provide a good interview, understand historical context, or carry on enjoyable dinner conversation with a stranger soon will appreciate the importance of the five W’s and an H”.

More than a set of tools for professional journalists, Kipling’s honest serving-men pop up in surprising places.  Listening to conversations among aspiring artists — painters and writers, photographers, musicians and poets – I hear them put to use again and again.

 Who would be interested in what I have to say?

 What should I write about?

Where could I exhibit my work?

When would I find the time?

Why should I keep working when no one seems to care?

How can I become a more skilled photographer (writer, painter, musician, poet)?

In a world filled with questions about the creative process, professional photographer Chase Jarvis has a few answers. In an intriguing blog entry titled There are No Excuses,  Jarvis reveals his sensitivity to creative angst.

I’ve heard you say that there’s nothing to take a picture of. I’ve heard you say you don’t know what to make, when to make it, how to make it, what to do.
I’ve heard you say that you don’t know how to get your work “out there.” I’ve heard you say that you don’t know what to put on your blog. I’ve heard. I’ve heard. I’ve heard. And I promise you, I, too, have said all these things.

Then, he goes on to remind us that such questions are rooted in a time when artists required permission from others for their work to be seen. Permission came in the form of being hired to shoot a news story, to write a magazine feature, or produce a graphic layout for a business. As he says:

“They” sat up in fancy corner offices and if you were good  — no, scratch that, good AND lucky — “they” would say “yes” and then you’d be permitted to share your work with the world. 
Not any more. It’s the first time in the history of the world that you can share your work without anyone’s permission. What are you waiting for? Spend your own time and your own money. Then, hit post, publish, share, send, or whatever makes the software push it out into the world.

According to Jarvis, the emerging paradigm for artists of every sort can be summed up with elegant simplicity.

The first step is to create something. It could be a photo, a video, a poem or a painting. For that matter, it could be a blog, a business model or a bit of computer software. In a separate post titled, “Thirteen Things Crucial for Success (In Any Field)”, he expands by saying:

Over-thinking, pontificating, and wondering are tools for the slacker. People don’t care what almost happened, or what your problems are, or why something wasn’t. They care about what is, and what will be.
That requires actually making stuff happen. Pros do; make; ship; send; publish; post; and deliver.  Amateurs sit around and wonder, or worse, scratch their arse.

The next step is to share what’s been created.  Send it to an editor or submit it to a jury if you like, but don’t limit yourself to such traditional means. Post it on a website or blog. Tweet the link. Link on Facebook. Find editors and publishers who accept online submissions and email it.

Finally, sustain yourself. Keep a day job until you can quit your day job and devote yourself full time to your art, or keep your day job and continue creating and sharing for the pure pleasure of it all — especially the pleasure of not requiring “permission” from anyone.

A lifetime of productive beauty and personal satisfaction could emerge as a result of embracing Jarvis’s framework.

Begin by creating, sharing and sustaining something: anything.  Then, do it again, and again, and again, until the rhythm of production becomes as natural as breathing.  Cycles and repetition are as crucial for the creative life as they are for the physical. Just as breath enlivens our bodies, the ebb and flow of creative spirit enlivens a growing body of work that illustrates who we are, what we stand for, where we’re going, and why. 

When we will arrive, and precisely how we’ll travel is, of course, intensely personal,and part of the mystery of creativity.

Had I read Jarvis when I first began writing, I might or might not have recognized the truth of what he says. Today, there’s no question in my mind that what he says is true.  As the rhythms of creation develop, as the skills improve and the body of work begins to build, possibilities become reality. The picture-taker becomes the photographer. The doodler sells a first canvas. The software designer gets a contract. The writer is published.

Everyone forges their own way to creative satisfaction, of course, but I’ve found the path Jarvis describes to be recognizable, enjoyable to travel and amenable to constant revision. My hope is that all of us can be intrigued by his perspective, and encouraged to re-commit to our own journeys: creating, sharing, and sustaining ourselves — and others — in unimaginable ways.

 

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Published in: on October 19, 2014 at 2:55 pm  Comments (43)  
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Real News for Real People

Finding a current issue of any magazine never was easy during my years in Liberia. In the 1970s, finding even an aging copy of The New Yorker was nearly impossible.

Living in the interior, I did my shopping  in open air markets and Lebanese stores that specialized in canned mackerel, Russian toilet paper, the occasional Heineken, and Chinese tomato paste. In those places, browsing the newsstand wasn’t an option.

Occasionally, I cadged a copy from expatriates with connections to the embassies or international agencies in Monrovia. Now and then, a Peace Corps volunteer would  have an issue to share, and there always was the possibility someone would step off PanAm 1 onto the Roberts Field tarmac with a copy tucked under one arm. (more…)

Published in: on August 2, 2014 at 7:42 pm  Comments (83)  
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Six Years on the Road

Even with a photograph in hand, I can’t tell you much about this car I helped to wash so many times. I never knew the make or model, and todayI’m not even certain of the color.

On the other hand, I remember the back seat perfectly well.  My world-on-wheels came furnished with a red plaid wool stadium blanket, a plastic solitaire game with red and blue pegs, and a doll suitcase filled with crayolas and colored tablets, paper dolls, and a pile of Golden Books.  Whether it was a jaunt over to the A&W for root beer floats, an evening at the drive-in movies, or a trip to my grandparents’ house, the back seat was mine.  It was my castle, my refuge, my tiny bit of homestead to do with as I pleased.

On longer trips, tiring of books and paper dolls, I’d stretch out on the seat and pretend to sleep, while the low murmurings of my mother and father tucked a conversational blanket around me. Sometimes I drifted into sleep, secure against my pillows, enjoying the sense of movement and the soft hum of tires on concrete.
(more…)

Published in: on April 13, 2014 at 9:03 am  Comments (139)  
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How the Grinch Stole Graphics

Most people in Blogville liked graphics a lot.
But the Grinch, south of Blogville,
would give them no thought.
The Grinch hated graphics! For every danged season!
Now, please don’t ask why. No one quite knew the reason.
It could be her head wasn’t screwed on quite right.
It could be, perhaps, that her shoes were too tight.
(I think that the reason most likely of all
may have been that her heart was two sizes too small.)
But whatever the reason, her heart or her shoes,
she stood there all Advent, still puzzled, confused.
She stared from her cave with a sour, Grinchy frown
at the warm, lighted windows below in their town.
She knew every blogger in Blogville beneath
was busily hanging a MySpace-type wreath. (more…)

Goldilocks Meets T.S. Eliot

Goldilocks' Three Bowls

I try to pay attention. Truly, I do. Still, I’m constantly searching for my car keys. It slips my mind that I should stop at the grocery for milk, or swing by the pharmacy to pick up prescriptions. Occasionally, I neglect to feed the cat until she nudges at my foot, murmuring her complaint. Computer passwords dissolve into the ether, along with the names of former school chums, padlock combinations and the phone number of my favorite aunt. 

People who understand such things tell me this everyday-forgetting is unremarkable.  A little more age here, a few more-interesting things to ponder there, and the mind wanders off, unconcerned with milk, kitties or keys.

Over time, I’d even forgotten my promise to some blogging friends that I would tell them the story of the beginnings of The Task at Hand - specifically, how it received its title and tagline. Being a Janus-faced month, a time for pondering the past as well as looking toward the future, January seems as good a time as any to recount the story of those first, halting steps onto the path called “writing”. (more…)

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