Part 3 and Art Behind the Scenes

Poppets in Studio



Hope you had a great Thanksgiving.

To reiterate, my disclaimer (in case you missed it the first time.):

I was asked by attendees to make my lecture available in print somewhere. I told them I'd put it here. This is sort of an abridged version, as you know I tend to take small side trips in all directions when I'm on a topic. But the gist of it is intact. It's a lot of material, so I decided to divide it into the segments, as in the program.

and

Everything said from here on is based on observation and not research (unless otherwise stated.) I’m not advising. I'm no expert. You go on and do whatever the hell you want to do. You’re going to anyway. Or possibly you ‘re way ahead of me. Possibly you already know everything I have to say. In that case, bask in the affirmation and enjoy the pretty pictures. That’s what they’re here for.
In December I’ll have been a professional artist for 20 years. I’m a self-taught artist. If someone asked me to sum up what the experience has taught me (and occasionally people do), I’d say something like the following:


Part the Third

Lists Are a Form of Procrastination


Back to that advice thing, for a moment. Ray Bradbury told me (did I mention that I'm one lucky human?) that a general direction is much better than a plan. Plans rarely work out.
Keep working, he said, and just watch and see what happens.


Events rarely happen as we imagine they will. Planning can be a form of procrastination. Here's one way---writing something down on a list releases us from responsibility. We no longer have to remember it, we can put it out of mind, we can dismiss it.

True enough, there are applications for lists. A daily to do list can be helpful, notes are fine and good. A reminder to call someone or email or look something up is helpful. Margin notes are good. References.

But there's a limit. Only you can know if you've crossed it. A good clue is that you're spending more time sorting through your lists as doing the tasks on them.

Another is to tally up what you've done for the day/week/month. If you've spent more time writing, rewriting, sorting and such, than hands-on work, something is off.

What has worked for me is to set aside a time for working on lists. Fifteen minutes at the end of the day, fifteen minutes at the beginning of the next.

Life is messy and unpredictable. Shit happens.

No one expects the Spanish Inquisition.

I made lots of lists and plans. I set specific goals for myself. Too specific. It works infinitely better for me to have a long-term direction and small bits of tasks per day. Otherwise, I can get lost in the planning and time flies by.

The time will go by anyway.

I didn't plan to make Poppets. They sort of happened on their own. It was a conspiracy, sort of, created by Poppets and their collectors. In the course of a year, I was no longer an artist in my garage studio, working quietly away with music and coffee. I became the owner of a small mail order business.

And all that goes with.

I found that I was spending very little of my everyday making art. Running a business requires a lot of time and energy for administration. So I hired people for that. This made things different, not necessarily easier, because it made the company bigger.

I had lots more lists. Notebooks.

I found myself resenting the business. It started quietly. There's this expression---if you boil a frog slowly enough, it won't realize it's been cooked.
The frog thing is a myth, but a good metaphor. It applies to a lot of things---health, deteriorating relationships---things get gradually worse until we accept the worse as 'normal.' Not realizing that they're out of hand until we're in the soup.

Hmmm. Soup. I was in some for sure.

My apron had been my uniform for years. Old jeans, t-shirt or baggy sweater, apron, coffee cup. I found myself not putting it on anymore. I no longer identified myself with the artist.

I no longer identified myself as the Visionary. I felt like a fraud. I didn't see Poppets as art.

I was wrong. I'd become so caught up in the plans that I lost my direction. I was no longer living in the present. I was investing all my time and energy into a future that might or might not arrive.

Silly fucking human!

It wasn't the Poppets fault. They hadn't changed. I had.

Then my personal life exploded. Whoosh! Time flies when your hair's on fire. Didn't see that coming.

Still reeling, the recession kicked in. Shit! Didn't see that coming either! So much for plans.

I watched fellow artists and other studios bite the dust. Scary. Things got really lean for us. We began to look like the crew of the Nebuchadnezzar. We learned to live on a lot less.

We learned to appreciate what we had.

Poppets watched.

I got lots of notes and emails from collectors who said they loved my work as always, but couldn't buy. I watched more of my friends---gifted artists---selling Tupperware and their book collections.

So much for plans.

But things could be much worse. We had Poppets. Collectors could still afford Poppets.

So I turned Poppets into little pieces of art. I changed how I saw them. Or they did.

I put heart and soul into them. Everybody wins. Collectors still get the satisfaction of art. I still make enough money to eat.

We learned that Poppets took care of us. We made lots of adjustments.

Now, we spend a lot less than we used to. We don't waste and we take little for granted.

I don't know how this will all play out. It's not over yet.

I do know I'm grateful for the direction. I'm grateful for Poppets, and I wear my apron every day.

Things will change. You can count on that. I hope to retain the economy I've learned. I hope to help teach you to be flexible. You don't need as much as you think.

Don't mind me. Listen to Ray Bradbury---do your best and watch and see what happens. It's a ride.

--Open for discussion. Would love to hear what you think.


Here are some behind the scenes photos this week:


I like the work of Steve Archer (book) It seems to work well with mine.

The Land of Shadows

You artist has returned. I have limited internet access and am deep into the studio until after Thanksgiving holidays. In the next few days Aubrey will continue with posts for the rest of the lecture. Thank you for your comments. I always enjoy our discussions.


I feel as though I've returned from a very long journey. There are stories, and I'll tell them, but it's too early. For now, I'll keep working. I've been traveling for sure, to interesting places. I found great darkness there, and beauty. The work will describe it. It's a language that works better then words, for things I can't describe.

But I thought of all of you there, and tried to remember what I'd bring back for you. There are treasures to be found in the strangest places! Poppets know. They were there with me, watching over.

In the meantime, The Winter Shop on Etsy is open, with fairies and cookie Poppets and other new goodies added every day.

When I return, you'll see some of the things I found on my travels, and Poppets will act out scenes from The Graveyard Book.

See you soon.

Lisa

Know the Soup You're In part 2

Well. Sunday night. With the help and love of family and good friends, I seem to be on the way to recovery. Not quite there, but improving. Orange juice, lots of Nat Geo and some Ramsey Campbell for comfort reading. Oh. And LOTS of sleep.

Anyway, sorry for the delay. As promised, here is the second portion of the WFC art lecture. Know the Soup You're In.




World Fantasy Convention Art Lecture
Part the 2, Some Thoughts on Ideas


Ideas are like stars, they’re endless.

Some version of the Drake Equation could be applied to ideas. Applying this equation, where

fraction of stars with planets = durability of concept

and

fraction of planets capable of sustaining life = materials and funding

and

fraction of those planets where life evolves = opportunity and environment

One could conceivably calculate the possibility of a well conceived, well executed work finished from universe of ideas just as one might calculate the possibility of life.

In other words, the ideas that make it to finished work are likely more rare than we think.

Think about it--the average human says between 300 and 1000 words per minute to herself. (hopefully, generally, silently) For the creative person, many of those words involve ideas.
That's a lot of information in a day, a week, a month.


Ideas are also like Soup. There are endless varieties, but only a few basic formulas. Like most humans, from a distance, soups all look the same. But generally, there's a background/backstory (stock), and symbols/metaphor (veggies and or meat), character (noodles) and the experience of the creator (flavor/spice.)

Ok. Soup is sort of a silly metaphor for art. But it sort of works, and that's the visual I started with.

If you don't like soup, then how about this?

Ideas are like assholes. Everyone has one. Everyone thinks his is special.
Everyone is wrong about that.


See? Soup is good.


Some Ideas should be written down. Some should not. Learning to recognize the difference takes both effort and experience. Sometimes writing an idea down can take the wind right out of it, rob it of it's magic.
I used to try to write everything down. I was terribly afraid a really good one would “get away.” My daughters joked that “hang on while I write this down” would be on my tombstone.

I've learned that this isn't the best plan, at least not for me.
It works better for me not to try to write down every idea, but instead to give them my full attention as they bloom and fade in my head. Let them go into the mix of other ideas. They’re raw data, bits that can and will combine with other bits and come out later as something more.

More than the sum of its parts.

Bigger inside than out.

Really good ideas don't get lost or forgotten. Really good ideas stick like glue.

I had to work long and hard to find out the kinds of stuff I needed to make note of. I had to learn to pay attention. Notes and lists can be good tools, used correctly. But they can become a form of procrastination. If you’re writing everything down, the good stuff gets lost in the fray. Not to mention that trying to write down every idea that comes to mind (think 300 - 1000 wpm) can make you crazy.

I work better if I treat ideas as living things. They are, in a sense, in that they are mutable, affected by their environments, they can be fed and they can die.

I often get my best ideas when I’m working. I can tell if an idea is good because it persists. It looks just as good the next day. And the next day. If it’s a really good idea it rings like a bell. It wakes me up at night.

If it’s a great idea it makes me sweat and/or pace. It makes me not care if my shirt is on inside out and backwards. It makes me forget whether I've brushed my hair. But not my teeth. Not so far, at least.

I’m not kidding about this one bit.

Note--- worse than writing:

Getting a fresh new idea is very exciting. It’s like falling in love. You want to shout it from the mountain tops. You want to email your friends. Eureka! But what you should really do is

SHUT THE HELL UP.

Nothing sucks the life out of a good idea faster than yakking about it. Not even writing it down. Not even close.
Shut the hell up. Be quiet. Think. Work. Let the idea build its own momentum. This proves to work better for me. Over and over and over. Other creatives will tell you the same things. Ask the successful ones, the big guys. The beef.

They know exactly what I mean.


Besides, no one can ever, ever see your idea as you do. No matter how inspired and pure and holy. No one sees what you will/might do. No one sees anything except the work you've done.

Don't talk about it. No one gets it. They watch your lips move and nod politely. But they do not see. Or they say something completely deflating. It's not their fault. No one can see what's in your brain.
Trust me on this one. Be quiet.

I hope this saves you time and energy.


Ideas tend to work out in their own time, even though that doesn’t mean we should sit on our tuffets and wait. Ideas that are good come in their own time often after years of gathering the raw materials they’re made from. Like clear water from underground. It takes work to prime the pump. You have to put effort in to get something out.

Sometimes this timing is extremely inconvenient. Like love, it comes when one least expects it.

Sometimes it’s necessary to let inspirations wait, however impatiently, for other priorities.

Sometimes it’s necessary to drop everything, clear off space and run with it.

How to know? I’ve gotta tell you, I don’t know for sure. I’m still working on that one, but I seem to be gaining on it. It seems that now, these many years later, I have lots of hits and few misses.

Possibly the best we can hope for it to get better at knowing the difference.


Don't be afraid of ideas. At their core, they are few, but no two people create from the same recipe, from the same raw materials. Like soup, people look the same from a distance, but up close, we each have our own flavors.

Hope this was helpful. I'd enjoy and welcome discussion. Two brains are better than one, more is even better.

g'night

silly human

Did I mention relapse? After my last post I took a turn for the worse, and then some. Why? Because I failed to follow my own advice. In the weeks before the convention, I worked myself into exhaustion, so that when I caught the cold bug from Orion, I had little resources to defend myself with.
Hence, the past three days spent in bed, moving only when absolutely necessary.

If you have questions or are waiting for Poppets that haven't arrived, please contact Aubrey at aubrey@PoppetPlanet.com. She has been a one-girl band this past week, doing an excellent job at it but still she is one.

I't's not safe to say I'm all better, but it's true that I feel better than yesterday and not worse. The irony is that I've come back from the convention inspired with new vision and eager to get to work.

Didn't I learn anything from the beloved late Jim Henson?

Yes. I did. I'm going to continue to move slowly until I'm strong again. Wanted to let you know I was thinking of you, but must live within the limits of being an ordinary human being.

Home. The Good, the Bad and the Words

I'm back from the World Fantasy Convention, which was very, very good.

I'm just beginning to recover from a very nasty chest cold, which was bad.


I was asked by attendees to make my lecture available in print somewhere. I told them I'd put it here. This is sort of an abridged version, as you know I tend to take small side trips in all directions when I'm on a topic. But the gist of it is intact. It's a lot of material, so I decided to divide it into the segments, as in the program.



Know the Soup You’re In.

Of course it’s a metaphor.

And here’s my disclaimer:

Everything said from here on is based on observation and not research (unless otherwise stated.) I’m not advising. I'm no expert. You go on and do whatever the hell you want to do. You’re going to anyway. Or possibly you ‘re way ahead of me. Possibly you already know everything I have to say. In that case, bask in the affirmation and enjoy the pretty pictures. That’s what they’re here for.
In December I’ll have been a professional artist for 20 years. I’m a self-taught artist. If someone asked me to sum up what the experience has taught me (and occasionally people do), I’d say something like the following:



Part the One. Advice:

I would’ve saved myself a lot of time and aggravation had I followed advice offered by those more experienced than myself. Possibly not following advice is human nature . I watch my offspring, intelligent as they are, making some of the same dumb choices I did, even after being advised against them. Even after being advised loudly. Even after begging.
Some things have to be experienced first- hand to be learned.

I’ve begun to suspect that all humans have to complete a common curriculum.

You buy a media cabinet from Ikea. You’re faced with a decision . At what point do you deviate from those utterly annoying pictogram instructions, or ignore them completely? After all, the pieces are there, and it’s all SO OBVIOUS.

I believe everyone in this room has done some form of the above. I don’t know how your gig worked out for you, but I can tell you that I’ve had some spectacular failures, with parts left over and lots of words that would get my kids in big trouble.

So why would I ignore good advice from good sources? Well, because I’m a human being. I think I’m special. I’ll get different results for me than for those other schmucks.

Wrong-O. Because I’m not special. I’m full of shit, and so was Walt Disney.

I’ve leaned that it comes back, the advice. It rings like a bell when you’re stranded, the dog got loose, the cake fell, your hair is green, your fish are dead and your butt is sunburned,. It comes back when the contractor vanished along with your roof, your marriage imploded ,you gained forty pounds and your stocks are worth nothing, the river turned red and the locusts ate EVERYTHING.

I’ve been advised by the likes of Michael Whelan, Gene Wolfe, Ray Bradbury. Even from brilliant sources, it’s a while before I began to get it. I had to live it. I had to do some things well and some things poorly in order to figure out the difference. I had to make some art that didn’t work. I had to make some that did. I had to embarrass myself. I had to want to get it right.

Sometimes I hear the things they told me then, now.

It comes back.

It’s like time travel.


Imagine with me, if you will, humanity evolved. Already some lives are extended with the help of modern medicine. Imagine knowing what you might know at 50, and having a hundred productive years to go. Imagine time to work out all that human stupidity before your knees start to go.
Just imagine.
Of course, if human beings live that long, adjustments will have to be made. On the average a human life is about 3 billion heartbeats.

We either have to live longer or get smarter, quick-like.

**********

Thanks to everyone at the convention. How marvelous you all were. Will be sending proper correspondence soon. For now though, vitamins and rest.