"Sometimes it's not important whether it's an art project or just something that happens" - Susan O'Malley

the end-of-the-month post

Hi m’dears!

Lately I’ve been finding myself having a lot of conversations about creativity. There’s the perennial conversation, of course. The one we’ve all been having forever (heck, I basically wrote a book about it) about how one first finds, and then protects, the time to do one’s creative work. But then there are other branching and adjacent conversations as well.

One is about the importance of forming and maintaining creative communities to support one another in the work we want to be doing, and the challenges of doing so. Of course there have always been stumbling blocks inherent in trying to get people together—scheduling, workloads, family stuff, obligations of all kinds, not to mention the entropy that inevitably starts to rub the edges off even the most thriving group over time. But everyone seems to have the sense that it’s gotten even more complicated in recent years, with the push/pull of in-person versus virtual meet-ups; going out versus staying in; planning ahead versus allowing for spontaneity; committing versus flaking; the value of community versus the importance of self-care. Get people started talking and it turns out they often have a lot to say about this. Folks are hungry for human connection and real-life support, but at the same time nearly everyone has a story of a group that fizzled or an event that foundered. It can feel in the moment like an individual’s own problem, but it’s definitely a broader phenomenon than that.

Another conversation that happens and that is, frankly, a lot more fun to have, is just finding out what people are doing. I am vastly interested in creative expression. And I’m often shocked and saddened to discover how often people have been shamed or made to feel small or talked into believing that what they are doing isn’t important or somehow doesn’t “count” as art or creativity. This makes me absolutely livid and makes me want to stand up on a box in a town square declaiming a long list of all the things that do indeed count. Let me just tell you some of the amazing things I’ve heard from people that they’ve been doing lately:

Learning to crochet; watercolor painting; sharing book recommendations online; baking breakfast foods; learning to play D&D; writing poetry; digital drawing using Procreate; compiling a book about an artist; beading; sending mail; writing a novel; making playlists; quilting; making pies; creating electronic music; making zines; large-scale painting; writing a screenplay; taking long walks and photographing things seen along the way; singing; journaling; making illustrated notes while reading; embroidery; drawing; creating ephemera to illustrate a novel; making jewelry; starting a newsletter; playing guitar; preparing a talk; creating a new wardrobe look from existing clothing; collecting quotes from books read; learning to make short animated films; creating comics; pottery.

As inspired and joyful as all that stuff makes me, of course, if I’m honest, I also talk with plenty of people (I’ve mentioned before that I talk to a whole lot of people these days: that turns out to be one of the great surprising joys of the freelance life) who aren’t able to do the creative work they’d like to be doing, right now, for any number of reasons. Those conversations are often hard and sad. But the good news is that for most folks there’s a real sense of impermanence about that state of being. They can’t do their thing right now, but when circumstances change in the future they envision being able to get back to it.

Lord knows conversations around creativity can have plenty of strum-und-drang built in. There can be plenty of drama, plenty of self-loathing, plenty of complaining. We’ve all been there. But, at the end of the day, its that essential hopefulness, for me. That proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. All the ways we are finding community, even in the face of how tricky it can be. And all those fantastic things people are doing for the sheer joy of doing them. That’s what keeps me coming back to happily thinking and talking about this topic again and again.

Art

I’ve seen a lot of art, all of it pretty gosh-darn amazing, since the last time I happened to write about it here.

Zanele Muholi: Eye Me at SFMOMA through August 11th (pictured above) is a tremendously powerful and beautiful show from the South African photographer and visual activist. Some of my favorite pieces from the show can be seen here.

Murakami: Monsterized at the Asian Art Museum (now closed, alas) was a sprawling exploration of this modern master’s recent work—rad to see so much of it all in one place, after often catching dribs and drabs here and there. My faves here.

Rohini Devasher: One Hundred Thousand Suns at Minnesota Street Project Foundation (now also sadly closed) was an amazing installation of textiles/photos and video about solar eclipses. So beautiful and cool. I attempt to capture it here.

Chiura Obata at SFMOMA through July 14 celebrates this important California artist’s nuanced depictions of the nature watercolor and ink—and features work created during his forced detainment during World War 2. My selections here.

Post.Script

I’ve got new drawings available for sale at local independent shop Post.Script. If you’re here in San Francisco you can pop in and browse (not only my artwork, but about a million cute gifts and things you will surely covet the minute you set foot in the door), at Fillmore and California. But they’re also available online.

Mix Tape

And, yes, way down here at the bottom, we arrive, as always, at the part where I give you an hour of music, eclectically curated for maximum delight.

March: A Rain-Shadow Desert

xo

b

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