What is my process?

(Written to: "All This Time" by OneRepublic)

"Process" is a bit of laughably self-important term.

I can't really take it seriously because I'm strongly against the air of pretense that exists in the art world. My mom raised me with the conviction that art is for everybody.

I suppose, however, that "process" actually is the best term to describe what goes into the creation of one of my paintings, and so, begrudgingly, I will use it.

What does my "process" look like?

I believe that focus creates art. Therefore I need to align my focus so completely on not just the piece itself, but also on the state of mind required to complete the piece.

What am I looking to accomplish? What is my message?

Then it becomes my job, as an artist, to transport my mind to that place or bring my mind through that lesson it needs to move through. Submerge myself entirely in it. Allow it to completely absorb me until I'm lost and all that remains is that state and the artwork that comes out of it.

How do I achieve that?

“It becomes my job, as an artist, to transport my mind to that place... Submerge myself entirely in it. Allow it to completely absorb me until I’m lost and all that remains is that state.”

I am alone.

I gather all of the art supplies that I may even slightly possibly need.

I put them on the ground.

I pray.

I put in my wireless headphones and find that song.

A popular torture technique is to play one song on repeat for prolonged periods of time.

That is my process. And no, I'm not kidding.

I choose the song that connects with the piece that is appearing in my mind. And I queue it up to play about 15 times in a row. (Although I sometimes need to queue up even more.) Using my wireless headphones, I am isolated with the song while also freeing up my hands to work without the interference of a cord.

“You should have seen my fiance’s face the first time I told him that that’s what I was doing. ”

I know it sounds crazy. You should have seen my fiance's face the first time I told him that that's what I was doing. 

I don't do drugs. And so this is one of my primary methods of altering my consciousness and focus. And not that art needs an "altered state" because it definitely doesn't, but if you can find a comfortable corner of altered consciousness to explore, then I think you owe it to humanity to do it. Explore that space. Share what you've found with the people who will never go there. Because that's art.

Anybody who has ever spoken the same word over and over and over again knows that things begin to warp and distort with repetition. Things become strange.

You see and hear and feel things that you wouldn't normally experience.

Sofa, sofa, sofa, sofa, sofa, sofa, sooofaaa, sooooooofa, sofa, sofaaa, sofa, sofaaaahhh... 

Even typing the same word over and over again makes the word and the whole process of language seem bizarre.

Musical repetition and musical cueing centers my focus in a way that I've found to be incomparable. It's better than drugs. Honestly. And with no side effects, aside from a few judgmental (but fascinated) stares.

So I listen to the same song. I align with it. I submerge myself completely in a weird union between the singer, the song, the message, the music, the lyrics, my soul, my paints and tools, my body, my eyes, the piece itself, my mind, thoughts, feelings and message. I harmonize my soul with the painting, the song, the world and my God.

The song of a piece is a component to the piece without question. (Does that mean I owe royalties now?)

“I harmonize my soul with the painting, the song, the world and my God.”

I actually have the same process for when I am writing, as well.

On the backs of nearly all of my paintings, the song of that painting is listed. Same for my writing. I write the name of the song before the scenes begin to which I used the song to write.

I've found this method serves a two-fold purpose. One for me the artist, and one for you, the viewer or reader.

The first, as an artist, is it makes editing and revisions very easy. If I need to go back to a painting and add another layer, I know which song will transport me to where I need to be. It's efficient and effective- two of my very favorite things. For writing, if I'm going through and expanding a scene, I know which song to play to immediately immerse me back in that frame of mind that I was in while writing and that I need to re-enter to adequately add to the work.

It keeps the vibe of the work consistent, which I think is a very useful thing in art. And by keeping the vibe consistent, it keeps the messaging and brushtrokes more concise.

I do use songs more than once, for more than one thing, if I really enjoy the songs. Especially Trevor Hall songs. 

Additionally, as a viewer or reader, I feel as though it adds to your experience if you also play the song while viewing my art or reading what I have written. You'll notice the song I wrote this blog post to at the top of this page.

It's an odd process, and I don't expect it to resonate with you if you're an artist.

After all, it's my unique process. Every artist has their own and to mimic another's can be interesting for a little while, but its effectiveness wears off since it's not authentically your own and the way in which art speaks to you.

That's why I'm not threatened to share it. 

"Girl with a Mandolin (Fanny Tellier)" Pablo Picasso

No one can do something better than the person who created it. No one is a better cubist than Picasso and Braque. 

I've struggled with focus and attention regulation my entire life. And it's a great problem at times because I have this thing called hyperfocus, where I can so acutely focus on one thing for so long that nothing else even remotely exists.

I've found that I can ramp that up even more with this process.

The process of creating art is gifting the world with a product of your focus and perspective.

I hope that you find the process which works best for you and a way in which you can share your perspective with the world, because after all, as my favorite writer says: The eye was placed where one ray should fall, that it might testify of that particular ray.

So go out, and be a testimony.

TRISHA WILES

What makes a great piece of art?

I'm a strong believer that movement is key.

“Nothing is quite as deflated and uninspiring as a piece that an art-loving viewer walks up to and away from within seconds. ”

Movement in a painting and movement of a viewer's stare.

I know that a piece is good if my eyes keep moving as I'm looking at it.

First to one part, and then Ooh! What's that over there? And then Look at those brushstrokes down at the bottom! ...Look how different they are from these up here on the top! ...Look at the dots over here and the shadow on the side here!

Nothing is quite as deflated and uninspiring as a piece that an art-loving viewer walks up to and away from within seconds. 

When I walk up to a piece that I believe to be truly great, time is rendered still. I stand, without realizing for how long I've been standing. I look until whoever I am at the museum or exhibition with has to physically grab my arm and pull me out.

Great art naturally evokes a desire to stare at it for as long as you can.

“Great art naturally evokes a desire to stare at it for as long as you can.”

I know when a viewer thinks my art is great when they stand in front of it for awhile, when their eyes are darting all around to different points on the canvas. 

So to determine what constitutes "great art," I have only two criteria:

1. Are your eyes moving a lot when you're looking at it?

“A captivating piece of art is always great art.”

2. Can you look at it for a long time and remain interested in it?

A captivating piece of art is always great art.

Pretty simple. All the best things are.

TRISHA WILES

The Role of Inspiration in Art

We've all heard about "writer's block," where a writer seems to lack all inspiration to fill a page, but does the same exist with other artists as well? 

And if so, what is its remedy?

"JUICE"

This post is on inspiration- what it is, where to find it, and how to keep it.

In an earlier blog post, I told you how my mother taught me a uniquely artistic way of looking at the world. But you don't need an art teacher as a mother in order to be an artist or to look at the world artistically. 

To me, inspiration is when an idea comes from a place beyond yourself. It seems to precede you, as well as the moment that it selects you. It's as though the idea is out there floating like a leaf in the wind and then suddenly falls upon your shoulder, in near-full form in your mind. 

But the painting just begins at the point of inspiration. (Actually, most pieces of art die there, as most artists/writers/musicians don't act on their ideas, but that's another post entirely...)

When I receive inspiration in the form of an image of what a canvas is supposed to look like, I do one of three things:

"Aerial"

1. I start working on it right then and there. I took this approach with "Aerial" and "JUICE."

2. I capture it. I take a photo of it or sketch it in a mobile app called Paper. 

3. I do nothing with it.

I try to avoid route #3. That's the one I do moreso with poetry these days. When a poem comes to me, about a third of the time, I just recite the new poem to myself once, enjoy it as I do and that's it.

Seems a bit selfish compared to when I used to scavenge for a pen and paper or napkin or something to write it down on, but whatever. I'm human. I'm selfish sometimes. Also, there's a certain poetry to being the only one to hear a poem presumably ever... but we're getting off-topic. And by "we're," I mean "I'm."

Can we evoke inspiration? 

Absolutely.

I don't care what anyone tells you, you can summon inspiration. As artists, sometimes we must. As every great writer says: don't sit there waiting for inspiration to strike, just get started and write. It doesn't matter if it's crap. Write.

The more you work a muscle, the stronger it gets. Duh.

So look at the sky. Be as cliche as to paint the sky. Who cares? Maybe an abstract idea is tucked away in there and it won't come to you until the painting is 70% done.

Inspiration is a lot like God. If you seek it and seek it continually, it will reveal itself to you.

“Inspiration is a lot like God. If you seek it and seek it continually, it will reveal itself to you.”

Trust me. I've experienced both.

I never thought of myself an artist- I thought you had to be moody and wear black. (Turns out I am moody and I do wear a lot of black. But that's beside the point...) The point is, I never saw myself as an artist until art became my medicine. My shortcut to sanity. My method of channeling unruly emotions. My mysterious form of spiritual alchemy. My most intimate prayer.

It became the method by which my thoughts and feelings become transmuted and transformed into something better. 

Sketch of "Portrait of a Man" (Paper mobile app)

Nothing is as creative as a process forged out of absolute necessity. 

I need art.

So think of what art means to you- if that's just "fun," that's great. Go paint the sky and have fun! Inspiration always comes to those having fun.

But, if it's deeper than that, if it is your everything- your release, your calm, a source of transformation, a sense of belonging, flow, a feeling of control as well as a source of spontaneity and fun, then I suggest you meditate on all of that. 

Feel gratitude that you have this channel as a gift, as a way out.

That you've found it. Because many people don't find a release like that. Many people resort to drugs or alcohol to find that kind of release. But, you've found this instead.

“When you honor and appreciate what art means to you, it will give to you. That’s just the way things work. ”

Meditate on that. Feel it. Stay with that humbling realization.

And invariably, when you honor and appreciate what art means to you, it will give to you. That's just the way things work. 

Sketch of "Right-Handed Bird" (Paper mobile app)

So those are my two tips for evoking inspiration:

1. Start painting and trust the inspiration will come.

“The enthusiasm of a novice will never escape you if you keep in the forefront of your mind all that art, in its many forms, has given to you.”

2. Always be grateful for what art means to you- the enthusiasm of a novice will never escape you if you keep in the forefront of your mind all that art, in its many forms, has given to you.

I have a few other techniques for evoking inspiration, including ascribing to Ernest Hemingway's technique for retaining a constant flow of inspiration, when he explained: "I learned never to empty the well of my writing, but always to stop when there was still something there in the deep part of the well, and let it refill at night from the springs that fed it."

After all, you'll always have inspiration if you never let it run completely dry.

If you don't fully empty your tank and you continually practice the methods to evoke inspiration, you'll never have to worry about "keeping" it, because it will, after a time, become a working part of your mind.

Prayer always helps, too.

Never underestimate the power of prayer. After all, Whoever created all of this and us is surely the Greatest Artist of them all.

TRISHA WILES