"Very personally ambitious, in the sense that I'm just trying to have the best time while I'm here" - Maggie Rogers
the end-of-the-month post
Hi m’dears!
One of the basic things I said I was doing, when I quit my job to go freelance, was making more time and space for my own creative practice. I also said I figured I wouldn’t really fully be able to do that this year, while I’m getting the editorial business off the ground. But that’s the big exciting long-term dream.
And on the one hand, I was right about that: I’m working on my visual art and my own writing in small-to-medium sized ways, but I can’t throw myself into them in major heave-ho ways because I’m still very much in the mist of figuring out what it means to support myself as a freelance editor and creative consultant.
But on the other hand, there is something I had not anticipated (actually one amongst so, so many things I had not anticipated about this whole new career thing and, weirdly, most of those unanticipated things are, like, delightful? which is confusing for someone who is not, shall we say, an optimist). And the thing I had not anticipated is that it turns out I now seem to have a lot more head-space for what I might call creative life experimentation.
Creative life experimentation? What the heck does that mean? Is that even a thing? Let me see if I can explain. Actually, let me just give you some examples:
I haven’t worn perfume since before the pandemic—recently I ordered a sampler box from a perfume company with eight tiny vials of different scents. Every other day for the past couple of weeks I’ve been trying one out. Living with a different smell for a day is fascinating! Even ones I don’t love are an experience.
I met a colleague pal for a coffee date out at the ocean instead of at one of my usual downtown spots. We watched the waves while we talked business.
Went and saw an important and magical art thing I’ve been meaning to go see for over a decade (more about that in the art news section below).
Read Rick Rubin’s book The Creative Act. Some people love this book, some people hate it. It’s the sort of book I always mean to read and see what all the fuss is about, and decide what I think for myself but never usually get around to. (My take, if you’re curious, is that at certain points his prose becomes tedious; and I don’t agree with all his ideas—but then I don’t need to—and I do think he has some valuable take-aways about the creative process.)
Getting back into going to the movies. Saw Carol Doda Topless at the Condor at a movie theater. Could not tell you the last time I saw a documentary. At a theater.
To be clear, I’m not just talking about having fun (though these things were fun). And I’m not just talking about having time (though it did help that I felt like I had the time to do these things). I’m talking about the little ways we change up our routines, the little adventures we take ourselves on, specifically for the purpose of nurturing our minds and hearts. The sensory and emotional and intellectual input that, directly or indirectly, feeds our creative practice.
Does it feel luxurious and privileged and almost obnoxiously self-indulgent to tell you about this, to the point where I almost didn’t write this because it felt like I was bragging—oh, look at me, doing cool things, aren’t I cool? Yes. God, how annoying!
But what did I really do? I went a couple places, read a book, bought something and used it. I’m telling you this not to aggrandize myself but because the results of these relatively minor, relatively normal activities had such surprisingly outsized effects on my mood and outlook. In all cases I could feel the aperture of my own creative lens on the world creeping open that much further. Just that little extra bit. Sooner or later (probably sooner) I will make something and it will be because of things like these. A new smell. A new vantage point. A new artist’s work. It’s not magic. But it kind of is.
I know I started off saying I have more mental capacity for these sorts of things because of my recent career change, but you don’t have to radically rewrite your whole life to open yourself to new experiences. You don’t have to quit your job. You could run a tiny experiment tomorrow. You could eat a donut. Look at a cloud. Go to a museum. I kind of really hope you do.
Art
The art thing I did, that I’ve been meaning to do for years and years, was to go to 500 Capp Street, otherwise known as the David Ireland House. David Ireland was a San Francisco artist who bought a house in the Mission District (back when old days when artists could do such things) and turned the whole place into an art project. The house was his home and his studio but it was, every inch of it, also a work of art—the walls and ceilings and floors, and also the conceptual work that took place there. I’d known about it, and wanted to go, and known I’d love it, forever. But I had the idea it was tricky somehow. You have to book a tour in advance and that sounded hard. It’s really not that hard (it did happen to be the case that the ticketing link wasn’t working when I went to do it, but I emailed them and they emailed me right back and very nicely helped me to book it). And the experience was every bit as magical and inspiring as I had imagined it would be. I learned a ton, and my eyeballs were treated gloriously. Here are a few pictures if you’d like to see.
Other art I was delighted to see this month:
The 10-Year Anniversary Exhibition at CULT Aimee Friberg — a roster of positively amazing artists’ work on show to celebrate a decade of this always exciting local gallery. Sadly done now, but here are few of my favorite bits.
Rebecca Ness at Jessica Silverman Gallery — hot damn! life in the city in all its mundane beauty. Loved this one. Over now, but the work is shown very well online on the gallery website, and my faves are also here.
Lisa Solomon and Christine Buckton Tillman’s “Chroma” window installations at Edge on the Square. You can see this in Chinatown for another month, at any hour of the day or night. Pictures here to entice you.
Book
My pal Bridget Quinn’s new book came out this month — Portrait of a Woman: Art, Rivalry, and Revolution in the Life of Adélaïde Labille-Guiard — and it is a absolute banger. I firmly believe it is no exaggeration to say that this book does for French Revolution art ladies what Wolf Hall did for Cromwell and More, what Amadeus did for Mozart and Salieri, what Hamilton did for Hamilton and Burr. And I don’t just say that because, back when I wore the Editor hat at Chronicle Books, it was my pleasure and to acquire it for the publishing house (though I did not edit it, that honor fell to the inimitable Mirabelle Korn), I say it because Bridget Quinn is as smart, funny, and insightful as they come, and her book is likewise.
Drawings
I dropped off two more (yes, even more!) drawings at Post Script the other day. The Palace of Fine Arts and the Conservatory of Flowers. These can be purchased in their charming shop at California and Fillmore, or online along with a number of my other pictures right here.
Mix Tape
And if you’ve waited this long, why yes, oh yes, I do happen to have an hour-long mix tape to gift to you down here, my friend. It’s a goodie.
April: The Line of Totality
xo
b
Thank you for this lovely newsletter! I'm going to be more appreciative of the small creative adventures I'm able to indulge in even in the midst of a busy season of business ownership and parenting. So many great links too! 🙏
I love the idea of tiny, little adventures. I think I do them without thinking about it. I'm going to be more aware and intentional.