Are You Looking For The Wrong Thing In Life? How to Get Back on Track to What You Love

The Great Timble Chase: Find What You Love Most

If you do not know what to do, what your purpose in life is, or where to go from here . . . play the thimble game. Is it hot? or cold? Am I getting warmer?

What parts of the day do you have the most energy? when are you most creative? what are you doing? and who are you with?

If you have no idea of what makes you happy, start to pay attention to your body's reactions. It is the best compass you have. Try to remember when you were most happy. How did you feel? What is your body doing? Re-live that moment and take note of what your body is doing. On the surface it is probably registering simple things like smiling, or shoulders relaxing. And on the inside, you feel competent, grateful, or a sense of energy.

If you still have no idea of what you like to do or what your purpose is, I'm sure you can tell what you don't like to do. Can you recall a job, or task, or being around people you don't feel comfortable with? Your body will do it's best to sabotage you to get you out of the situation. You suddenly can't recall your co-worker's name or you forget to attach that file or you start bumbling like a social idiot. (For me, my stomach tightens up, my throat gets dry, and I would have huge blocks around people's names. This is my cue to exit and do more of the things that make me happy - like painting with Monkey and friends). Take notice of these things. In circumstances that impacts you negatively, you body will try to do everything it can except for that job or be with that company of people.

With that said, there will be moments when you will be faced by positive challenges, but your body will react with similar cues and social ills. Be aware of the subtle difference. The slight difference? On one hand, the task or people that are major negative blows to your life: you absolutely don't want to be there, you feel like dirt, and you would rather disappear through the floor. On the other hand when you encounter the scary, but positive new challenge: you will be scared, but the thought of doing that task still thrills you and if you had the courage (which you do), you honestly want to take that next step. For example, proposing marriage is damn scary or moving to a new city to pursue your dream job is too, but the very thought of ultimately accomplishing that task fills you with excitement and passion. Not everything "uncomfortable" is bad for you, but you'll want to avoid the things that impact your creativity in an uncompromisingly negative way. (Meaning, that there is no payoff in being there at all and in fact, it just hurts you).

"But how can I completely avoid everything I hate doing and only do what I love?" you ask. As we're building and flexing our body's compass power and moving more towards what we love to do. . . yes, there will still be times when you "must" do things or be around people you don't necessary like. In these circumstances, try to think if being there will get you closer to your ultimate creative goal. Is there still a payoff for being there?

There might be days as artists when we have to take on projects, day jobs, and be around people that are not our ideals. But does this day job get us closer to our goals? Does it provide us with the capital to buy art supplies and free weekends and nights to pursue our art (without worrying about rent) while we move closer to embracing creativity full-time? Does the job (you hate?) provide structure and feeling of competence through repeated actions during the day as opposed to the frenzied chaos of creating something completely new for each canvas? (Can you think: "I am thankful for this job because . . . " it provides me with a roof over my head. Or I don't like the people, but I'm learning a lot. Or I hate everything else, but my co-workers are great. If you don't come up with anything at all to be thankful about, quit and find a new one.)

For most artists, we are often torn in our either-or thinking (more about this in a later post). We think all or nothing. Day job or dream job. That's it. So "any compromise is short of perfection," and therefore we have "failed as artists." This limited thinking is harmful to your life's options and creative endeavors.

If you were given all the freedom in the world to just create - you'll get bored - and your art becomes your day job. Human beings need structure and balance. So yes, there will be times you must deal. But as you deal with present circumstances, keep reminding yourself, that this is only just a stepping stone, a transition, a resting stop, you have bigger vegan fish to fry and creative goals in mind and for that you must continually move towards the thimble. Keep playing the thimble game: find activities and people that are (hot!) in line with who you are and your creative life. Eventually, you'll move completely only towards things you love: you'll be surrounded by people you love, who love you back, and you'll be doing the things that make you absolutely happy. All the time. Isn't that worth searching for? Isn't it worth fighting for?

Do You Choose to Be Ordinary?

Monkey here:

Life can be hard. Especially if you are chasing your dreams. We've been told that following our dreams is the hard route - we're supposed to just grow up and work crappy jobs and get married and have kids and then retire and call it a life. So we struggle with our ambitions and our reality, with what we hope for and what we see in the immediate future. Thus, for a great majority of us, life is hard. It beats us up at times, kicks us in the ribs, and then makes fun of us. It is not an easy road ahead for those that dare to follow their dreams.

The truth of the matter is that most people aren't going to reach their full potential and aren't going to achieve their life-long goals. For a whole crapload of reasons, they're not going to make it. They're going to settle for being ordinary, with ordinary lives and if they're happy with that, great for them. Don't get me wrong - I don't think that there is anything wrong with giving up or being ordinary, as long as you make that choice. That choice isn't for me, but I don't hold it against anyone if they do choose to be ordinary. It is a very, well, ordinary life path to take.

But for those of us that can't stand to be at a job we don't love, for those of us that want to chase that dream, for those of us that want to achieve more than the average person, for those of us that want to do what we love for a living, this is unacceptable. If you're reading this, chances are you are one of these people who yearn for something more.

Now, I truly believe that people are amazing and there is almost unlimited potential locked away in each and every one of us. Granted, it's harder for some of us to get to that potential than others, and some of us have had more help than others too. However, we all have the potential to reach our goals - but it's a choice we have to make.

We have to choose to be exceptional, or to be the outlier. We have to bust our asses to be extraordinary. There might be a few geniuses out there, but we have to come to terms that we aren't one of them. And neither is the rest of the 99.9% of the population. If you weren't born with some amazing, near-superhuman talent that less than 1 in 1 trillion people have, you're not a genius (plus, you wouldn't be reading this). Michael Jordan, Tiger Woods, Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Walt Disney. All these guys were not geniuses. They practiced longer, they worked smarter, they failed and tried again and again and again and they never gave up. They asked for help when they needed it and forged a path no matter how bruised or beaten or tired they were.

The point is that when it comes down to it, we all have a choice to make. Do we decide to be the hero in our own stories or are we just going to be a supporting character? Do we decide to settle for what's familiar and safer or do we risk it and go for something frighteningly unfamiliar and new? Do we let the opportunities pass us by or do we jump at them with all our might and damn whether or not we'll land safely?

Yes, choosing to be extraordinary is scary as all hell. While if you've met me at a craft fair or at an art show or at my gallery or wherever, I'm probably not the first person you think would be completely frightened by life. But I am. I'm actually scared of a lot of things. I'm scared of not measuring up to my own ridiculously high (often unrealistic) expectations I set for myself. I'm scared that my art isn't good enough and that no one will pay for my paintings and I'll forever be the stereotype of the starving artist. I'm scared that I'll get turned down from galleries or art studio jobs. I'm scared of calling people I don't know on the phone. But in the end, what I'm scared of most is that I'm going to be ordinary.

So I do the best I can any given day to try and prove my fears wrong. I've failed often, and I try my best each time to learn something and to actually change my behavior and actions in order to prevent myself from failing again. Like we've said before, failure isn't fatal, and it's part of the learning process, but I'd still rather succeed than fail any day.

Some days I end up choosing to be ordinary, and other days extraordinary. My own personal challenge is to push the scale towards the extraordinary. Which are you going to choose today?

Does Your Work Measure Up?

It's the question that every creative needs to ask themselves at some point in their career - it's actually a question that you should be asking yourself constantly. Does your work measure up?

For most artists, especially those starting out, often times the answer that we often find is probably "No." For those of us that have gone to art school or had some sort of formal training, we're always studying other artists who have come before us, and are constantly compared to the best students that have preceded us. We've survived constant critiques which tend to focus on what we're doing wrong (after all, our teachers want us to fix our mistakes). If we haven't had formal training, and are self-taught, we've spent even more time studying and comparing ourselves to our role models and other artists whom we respect and learned our own skills from.
Growing up (at least as an artist) in this sort of critical environment can be beneficial, as we're constantly learning from our mistakes and developing our skills in order to create art. By getting feedback and taking a objective look at our own work, we're able to grow and thrive as an artist.
The big pitfall, however, is if you are measuring your work against the wrong metrics.

If you're just starting out on your art career, you have to be going after the right targets. Yes, it's great to shoot for the stars and go after famous artists and try and compete with household names, but at the end of the day, if you're at all discouraged because someone sells more than you, or maybe they got into a gallery that you wanted to get into, if you're comparing yourself to anyone but yourself, you're measuring yourself to the wrong person.

If you compare your own work to anyone else's, you're doing yourself a disservice. Even if you were classmates in school and took all the same classes, your lives are different. Because art is such a personal thing, it is highly affected by your life: your state of mind, your family situation, where you grew up, your income level, your friends, everything. In that way, just because you and Artist X took all the same classes and studied under the same people and both started painting at the same time, you'll never really know their whole story.

Often times we'll compare ourselves to other professional artists and it takes us a while to realize that we're focusing on the wrong person. It doesn't matter what other artists are doing, or how successful they are, or how long they've been painting. What really matters is how much time and effort did we oursleves put into the work. Did we do our very best? Could we have done better?

Art is subjective. If your work doesn't measure up to someone else, who cares? Sure, we want our art to be the best it can be and to succeed and thrive and find a huge audience to enjoy it. But really, none of that is really in our control. We can't force people to like our art. What we can do is make sure that WE love our own art, and that WE are doing the very best that we can be doing. After all, that's what really counts.

Does Your Art Say What You Want It To?

Seal here:

This past weekend, I went to see the "King's Speech" with a friend. On the surface, it is a film about a would-be King who struggles to overcome his speech impediment in order for his country to trust him as a "sound" leader. As an visual and performing artist, the "quality of your voice" becomes the deciding factor in being able to deliver your intentions; the pictures in your head needs to be communicated clearly to the public in order to be received and understood.

When you draw and paint, do you strike the canvas boldly? Do you layer the watercolor softly? Do you ink your comic with conviction? or fear? or dread? Does your canvas stutter? soothe? or shout? Or is it more like a quiet boldness? What is the quality of your voice in your art? What is the adjective of how you deliver your art?

When I was a theater director at UC Berkeley, I was exposed to the many different kinds of delivery. Anger in a play could be portrayed in so many different ways: in a bubbling explosion, in a seething whisper, in a self-destructive combustion, in a look, in a glare, in the small corner of the mouth. It was very fascinating that the voice and actor's body had so much range. It was a given that in order to stretch that range and broaden their ability to deliver all kinds of sounds, emotions, and gestures, the actors needed to rehearse their voices and their bodies: they did exercises to stretch their vocal chords, they enlarged and snapped their diaphragms, they expanded and contracted their bodies into different shapes and sizes.

So too, must we, the visual artists: the painter, the writer, the crafts-maker, practice our quality of voice by practicing and stretching our capacity. We must 1) expand our skills in our chosen subject, medium, and the way we see the world. We must also 2) contract and filter what it is we eventually want to say, so that the final delivery of our art is done with intention, some element of surprising impulse, but always with a heart-full conviction.

All great art is a visual form of [song].

~ Sister Wendy Beckett

Fundraisers for Japan!

Seal's piece for tonight!

So while the death toll in Japan rises after the devastating 8.9 earthquake/tsunami combo, many great organizations are doing their best to raise money for relief efforts.

Warholian.com, along with Rise Japan. is putting on a show tonight, Monday, March 21st at Project 1 Gallery (251 Rhode Island x 16th) from 5pm to 11pm (ie. RIGHT NOW).

It's called Sketch for Japan, and will be raising money for Give2Asia, which has a team in Tokyo helping out with the relief effort.

Monkey + Seal will be contributing two new paintings to the event, where you'll be able to pick them up for under $50.

So it's a CASH night, so bring your large rolls of US currency and we hope to see you there!

Monkey's pieces:

Why Innate Talent is Overrated

When you think of "talent," what do you think of? Perhaps some sports great, like Michael Jordan or Muhammad Ali, or perhaps some sort of big thinker, like Einstein or Da Vinci. What about someone more contemporary - a technological innovator like Bill Gates or Mark Zuckerberg? Maybe some of your heroes in your field, people who do things that you wish you could do, or could do things you do faster or better. But when it comes down to it, we often think of talent as some inherent factor that these fortunate people were born with. It is comforting to think of talent as something that is some ethereal, almost magical thing that is mysterious and wonderful and is something that we are either born with or without.

Bull poo-poo, we say. "But Monkey + Seal," you might ask, "what about that one gal who did XYZ and she is just so amazingly talented at XYZ and we have very similar backgrounds, and she's just so much better than I am." What you're really trying to ask is "why are they successful and I'm not?"

We try to think of talent as inherent, or something we're born with, because that way it explains the deciding factor, that one single thing that sets the successful apart from us. It is comforting to think of talent this way because if we don't, then suddenly our own flaws are exposed and we are now short of one less excuse of why we aren't where they are.

It is not easy to fess up and take ownership of the fact that there are people who are much more successful (whatever that means to you). But it happens. While admitting that talent is not some inherent ability you have to admit that maybe they worked harder/smarter/longer than you, and that's the painful part. But the great part about that is this: if talent is not some inherent ability that means that YOU are just as talented as they are.

If talent is something else, something not ingrained in us at birth, that means that everyone can get access to that something else and we can all be successful. So what you're probably wondering by now is that if talent is not some inherent trait, then what is it?

Enter Dr. Anders Ericsson. A professor at Florida State University, in the 90's, Dr. Ericsson studies students at the Berlin Academy of Music. He found that all the elite students had practiced, on average, for around 10,000 hours. The good students had practiced for about 8,000 hours, and the average students had practices for around 4000 hours. Thus, the 10,000 hour rule was born.

In nearly every discipline, people who are really outstanding have put in that 10,000 hours. So what does that mean for you? For one, if you want to start something, you might as well get cracking now. Secondly, if you're already on your way, all you need to do is keep doing what you want to do. If you want to be an amazing painter, you gotta keep painting. If you want to be a writer, keep on writing.

To make 10,000 hours a bit more tangible, Monkey did the math, and if you devote 40 hours a week to it (all of these assume you're not taking weeks off and are going at it 52 weeks out of the year), it'll take you about 4 years and 10 months. If you spend 30 hours a week, it'll take you 6 years and 5 months. If you spend 20 hours a week, it'll take you a little over 9 years and 7 months. These numbers are all assuming that you're working constant weeks as well, and doesn't really take into account things like school (we probably worked on art around 55 hours a week for three years), but you get the picture.

The fastest way to your goal is practice. Plain and simple. And if you've already hit that 10,000 mark? Keep on going, since there are always others out there with more hours. And if you're at the very top? Keep on going, since there are always people right behind you working their little butts off to get where you are. Besides, if you're doing what you love, you'll be having too much fun to watch the clock. Go get 'em.

How to Solve the Problem of "The Starving Artist"

"Is it a guarantee?" people have asked me, "if I work hard and become an artist, is it a guarantee that I'll make it?" Most people want to hear the answer "Yes, just stick to your studies and you'll be okay. You'll graduate school and find a good job and they'll take care of you for a long time." This is the old way of thinking. The answer is: Only you will know. Only you can determine that answer. Nothing is ever a guarantee (Not even for the lawyers). So is it still worth it for you to pursue it even if you can't predict the outcome? I hope so. It is for both Monkey and Seal.

Often as artists we grapple with a lack of abundance. We think, "jobs are limited and we are beaten by artists younger than us." What is hard to understand is that we become the very image of the "starving artist" NOT because it is the "ultimate truth" or "expected result" of being an artist, but because there is still yet not enough institutional, community support, and resources for the artist. AND we haven't switched our minds from being reactive to society to that of self-determined action. We hope things will fall in our laps, rather than taking action and going for them.

Five years ago, there were barely any books written about the career track of a successful modern-day artist (still very few now). Many older veterans will tell you they simply worked hard and were lucky to have "moved up the ladder." A lot of the Studio Gibli/ Miyazaki artists over 40-50 years old had little or no prior background in animation, they were simply taken under the wings of older mentors. Most have had to carve their own path and learn through others. Many alumni networks exists for ivy-league schools and academia studies for lawyers and doctors, yet only recently are art schools reproducing that format. So although there are internships out there, career help from art schools, this is still an old way of thinking - this is only ONE OF MANY PATHS to become a successful artist.

There is no clear blueprint. No ten-year "proven" track of academia, residency, and practice. Most artist graduates will probably tell you, that their path afterward was wide and unpredictable. Both Monkey and Seal have worked at various jobs: retail, web designer, graphic designer, t-shirt printing, tutor, UI icon artist, logo designer, marketing agent, illustrator, fine arts painter, concept artist, animator, fashion designer, etc.

It is part of the frustration and simultaneous beauty of being an artist: it is a flexible field and having learned the basics, you can do cross-jobs and apply your foundations in any related field.

Enjoy the times when you are struggling. Because this is the time for your to experiment and find your voice. Which field calls out to you more? What should you specialize in, if any? What style and mediums best suit the stories you would like to tell most?

"But I'm sick of being poor," cries the fledgling artist, "give me stardom, give me riches." No one denies that it would be nice not to worry about income and to continually have clients bid for your art. Yet at the same time, shouldn't we enjoy our creativity, our time, and our lives as it currently is? With all its thorns and roses? And shouldn't we walk the path in our own pace and find the beauty of our art through self-discovery? And reach stardom and riches when our artist identities are solidified that it can take on the masses? (Is stardom and riches your ultimate goal? Or is it creative freedom, financial rewards, and being respected by your peers?)

The great composer Stravinsky complained, "I cannot compose what they want from me, which would be to repeat myself. That is the way people write themselves out."

I am not an advocate of masochism. I do NOT believe that "you have to suffer first as a starving artist before you make your big break." I do believe that you can be successful AT ANY TIME YOU CHOOSE. But before you choose stardom, make sure your heart is at ease, then you will be able to continue to create art however you please, without giving in to the pressures of your future fans. Do not choose wealth and fame as an artist out of desperation (I'll make anything you ask of me, just give me money or I'll trade this life of an artist, for anything, anything at all) or avoidance of your responsibility as an artist (Now that I have money, I don't have to make art anymore! or Now that I have fame, it doesn't matter what I paint, people will pay me for it anyways). But choose wealth and fame to further your art, you voice, and your experiences in life.

So in the meantime, enjoy it now. Enjoy the time you are able to experiment, when you live and create and amuse yourself only and not the mass. Enjoy not having the track record to live up to, but to toot and play your own horn, while walking through life to your own drumbeats. And when the time comes, enjoy that too!

And remember, the quickest path directly to your dreams is to do more of what you love.