Dilettantism, Routine & Moving Forward

Firstly, this is an attempt to get what I do out into the world, which is something that I’ve always struggled with out of fear of judgement and, frankly, confusion. I’ve always been a dilettante, always tinkering with several different things at any given time to the extent that I’ve felt a bit overwhelmed for what seems like most of my four decades, thus far.

Hence my routine, which is at once the glue that binds and the bane of my existence. When I abandon it for fear of being too rigid and therefore presumably “uncreative,” I tend to hyper-fixate on one thing and grind it into a fine powder. On the other hand, if I’m too militant with my routine, I forget to derive pleasure from not only my work but from the rest of life, as well. At age forty-one, I’ve only begun to find a healthy balance.

Art is not my primary source of income. I am a recovered alcoholic who drives a van for a wine and liquor distributor, four days a week, which is more-or-less ideal in more ways than one. I love my coworkers and the clients. The fact that I don’t have to take my work home with me is particularly significant because my home is my studio and, as long as I’m in town and don’t have a doctor’s appointment, all of Monday is dedicated to art (but also occasionally loafing and more on that, later).

I’m at my day job an average of thirty-eight hours per week, delivering cases of stuff that I’m allergic to; which is fine as long as it doesn’t get into my mouth. If it does, I’ll max out my credit cards, binge-watch porn and contemplate suicide. Which brings me to the next component of my routine that takes up about eight-to-ten hours of my week and that I won’t discuss further in this context. (If you’d like to know more, feel free to hit me up in private.)

Though practical in terms of paying my bills and staying sober, I do consider these first two aspects of my life to be part of the creative process, as a whole. Every interaction with another living being, be it plant, animal or human, is fodder and every stimuli perceived by every sense is as well. Much of my anxiety, over the years, has been founded in an inherent, grinding obsession with the notion that, in order to be an artist, every single aspect of my daily existence must be aligned with the creation of art and that any moment spent on anything other than producing work is time wasted.

According to Linda Schierse Leonard, Ph. D., in the introduction to her book, The Call to Create: Celebrating Acts of Imagination:

“A major obstacle to creativity is wanting to be in the peak season of growth and generation at all times. For example, if we want to be productive all of the time, we may push ourselves beyond our natural limits and not acknowledge our bodily and psychological needs for rest and regeneration. This is an unrealistic expectation because the creative process has necessary ebbs and flows like those of nature.” (p. 7)

I had to reach my current age before realizing that my own creative process ebbs and flows from day-to-day, week-to-week, month-to-month and year-to-year. I’ve always been meticulous about documenting what I make and a glance at my portfolio reveals alternating seasons of abundance and drought. In another forty years, perhaps I’ll look back and see a pattern that is currently beyond my grasp.

As for my routine, what remains (aside from friendship, romance, shopping, using the bathroom, etc.) is the intentional bit, the actual making of art. Before he died, my godfather advised me to pick one thing that I was good at and to stick to it. He was a wise and successful man and I still cherish every one of his many suggestions and I did not follow most of them. Mine has not been the most conventional path but, at this point, my only true regret is that I wasted as much time as I did regretting. I’ve recently begun to understand that for me, at least, the trick is not to pick one at the expense of the rest, but rather to hold them all a little more lightly.

In forthcoming episodes, I intend to explore what making art has meant to me in the past, how it has evolved (especially since my experience with cancer in 2019 and then seeking help to become sober in 2022) and what purpose it currently serves. And lastly I’ll just say that I am supremely grateful to Sydney for recommending that I do something like this and for countless other reasons, as well.