The Importance of Having Secondary Art Forms

Finding your art is as important as, and quite possibly an extension of, finding your God.

It's an outlet, a source of psychological and spiritual alchemy, a life-line. A boon.

“Art is God’s original medicine for humanity.  ”

Art is God's original medicine for humanity.  

I have found it vital in my own life to find my God and find my art. I also think that God is so abundant that, although we are each given primary art forms, we are also given secondary art forms. For me, my various art forms are painting, writing poetry and books, cooking, exercise and photography.

What is art except assigning meaning to something that other people may not think matters or makes sense?

Trisha Wiles

“What is art except assigning meaning to something that other people may not think matters or makes sense?”

A dilapidated wall of an abandoned building in Aruba becomes a vibrant reminder that brilliant composition is everywhere. And when it's so perfect as it is, I stood convinced that no attempt to paint it could ever improve it. So I may as well simply capture it, in itself. 

“If lived properly, all of life can be art.”

An aged subway platform reminds me of the great Anselm Keifer's technique of allowing nature to do for the artist what the artist simply cannot. He frequently speaks of burying paintings and setting them out in the rain to allow nature to finish the creation of the piece. The weathering process in nature is remarkable. 

I believe that having more than one art form is important because, if done properly, they can feed and inspire each other. 

The colors and patterning of a silver bowl of vegetables and fruit on a marble counter top inspired my very first still life painting, "Still-Life (Abstract)" in 2017. I was struck by its composition and, like a fiend, I felt a deep compulsion within in me to pursue that. Honor it. Paint it. Enjoy it even more by immersing myself in it. Become it. Submerse my consciousness so wholly in its inadvertent perfect design that it becomes something holy. It became my prayer. 

“Still-Life (Abstact)” 2017.

If lived properly, all of life can be art- cooking, eating, moving, breathing, dressing, kissing, laughing, walking, being.

Art's secondary forms in my life has taught me about these tiny moments of life which deserve drinking in. A composition here. A color there. A hug, a feeling, a sunset.

So I guess the point is not to achieve simply "secondary" art forms, but to grow toward the fruition of all other art forms.

May you find the beauty of art in every aspect of your life, knowing that- always- where beauty is, there is your God.

TRISHA WILES

Aging as a Woman (and Artist)

"Everybody here is suffering from a fatal affliction called 'time,' and eventually it will kill you." -Eckhart Tolle

(a light-hearted reflection to begin today's blog post)

I wouldn't say that I'm the most attractive person in the world. However, through the years, I have received more perks and praise for my appearance than I would say average. I'm aware of how categorically unfair appearance discrimination/favoritism is. After all, there's not a tremendous amount of work involved in being attractive. Extreme efforts and surgeries aside, you're sort of either symmetrical or not.

“A girl I went to college with told me how, at age 21, she had started receiving Botox treatments. My eyebrows raised in surprise- hers obviously didn’t.”

But aging poses an interesting dilemma for all of us, particularly for women and even more particularly for women who have found an identity of sorts in being "attractive," or "pretty," or "hot." Google any former Playboy bunny or supermodel and you'll more than likely find a face and body mutilated by cosmetic surgery belonging to a woman trying to 'keep' what had benefitted them and been their identity for so long.

When I was younger than I am now, I read an interview of a then-seventeen year old Kylie Jenner where she said how much she feared getting older. And I can't help but feel, as my 20- and 30- something year-old peers are injecting here and injecting there, this fear of 'aging' is coming in hotter and faster than ever.

"Aerial"

A girl I went to college with told me how, at age 21, she had started receiving Botox treatments. My eyebrows raised in surprise- hers obviously didn't.

But as I approached my 30th birthday as a woman and an artist, this question plagued my mind...

What does aging mean to a woman?

The immediate answers that my mind volunteered made my stomach churn: Unattractive. Irrelevant. Nonexistent. 

After all, you see far more aged men in the media than you do women. And if there's anything worse than being hated, it's being deemed so insignificant as to be ignored completely.

It would seem that right as women glean some wisdom and life lessons that are truly valuable, they are getting the boot instead of a microphone. 

It feels sometimes as if the message that we're all receiving is: As women, when you age, the show's over. You're irrelevant now.

I wondered. Because I am aging and still have a lot to say.

On a different note, if I was attractive, but upon aging became 'unattractive' by traditional standards, would the kindness of strangers I'd received over the years disappear? Would the attention from men that I grew impatient with over the years vanish? Would I miss my old 'normal'?

“It would seem that right as women glean some wisdom and life lessons that are truly valuable, they are getting the boot instead of a microphone. ”

Salma Hayek once spoke of getting older and says that now when a man checks her out, it's a pleasant surprise that she enjoys, as opposed to her younger years when men would ogle her and she'd grow angry or annoyed. She, seemingly, is just happy to be seen once more.

It's an interesting experience to grow older as a woman and, unless we die tragically young, Botox or not, age is coming for us all. 

So I keep going back to the question: what does this mean to an artist? 

It means that I work through this process and these feelings on canvas, with the goal to emerge on the other side with a new understanding of age. 

Through my recent work, that is what I am doing.

“It’s an interesting experience to grow older as a woman and, unless we die tragically young, Botox or not, age is coming for us all. ”

"Aerial" is a piece that I completed on the topic of aging, based on a personal experience that I had in the days leading up to my 30th birthday. The story of "Aerial" can be found here.

“The fact is that aging as a woman is different than aging as a man... And I judge no woman on her journey through it.”

"DEAR SISTER" is a rebellious piece against the medical and cosmetic fraternities that tempt away the money from me and my fellow women in efforts to prevent or delay what is wholly inevitable: aging. I looked at the money pouring into the anti-aging industry and thought how, perhaps, there could be better uses of those funds- such as women establishing independent financial security or a flood of charitable giving towards one of many incredible charitable causes.

The story behind "DEAR SISTER" will be featured in an upcoming episode of “Art Explained.”

The fact is that aging as a woman is different than aging as a man. There are different dynamics at work. And I judge no woman on her journey through it.

The real beauty is that with the amount of women in art today being bigger than ever, we can shed light on this entirely female experience in ways that are novel to the art world, in ways that Picasso and Dali certainly never could.

We as female artists can pull back the curtain of this dark reality to the world, in an attempt to bring the light (and sanity) in.

So here's to taking you along with me in this journey of aging, for as long as God allows me on it, painting and exploring.

TRISHA WILES

"Trisha, what do I do if I can't think of anything to paint?"

We've all been there...

We've got a few hours to kill with painting, but no ideas of which to paint.

I head-off this problem. I use a mobile application called Trello to keep a list of all of my art ideas. Sometimes I'm half asleep when an idea comes to me. I grab my phone on my night stand, begrudgingly, and open Trello to add the idea to my list.

I'm driving down the road and see a striking composition in the landscape or on a rusted truck in front of me. I reach for my phone and snap a picture. Then at the next red light, I add the photo to my to-do list of art ideas in Trello.

(No, I am not lying. I really do wait for a red light to do it.)

The point is that we never know when inspiration will strike and if we wait for inspiration to strike at the exact moment that we have some free time in a day, we're leaving our art careers to chance. 

I don't want to leave my art career to chance. So I capture ideas when they strike and then keep a record of all of my ideas that I can work off of.

Then, in those moments where I have some time to paint, I do not need to agonize over a blank canvas, struggling to conjure up something to paint.

I open Trello.

I open my Art Ideas list.

And I scroll through until one of my, literally, hundreds of ideas jumps out at me to be created that day.

Really simple.

There's nothing you can do about the ideas that have passed you by up to now. But starting now, how about you keep a record of them? Then you'll never be at a shortage of ideas or inspiration and can avoid this issue altogether.

TRISHA WILES

The Painting in My Head vs. The Finished Product

Last evening, I sat down to create "The Way The World Is." 

An ambitious title, well-suited to a painting meant to express a deep truth I've come to learn.

But what the painting started as- a vision in my brain, a day or two prior- bares vague resemblance to the finished, titled piece that was created.

Why is this?

Is it because I'm not a good artist and cannot replicate? Or is it something else?

It's something else.

Along the way from the original idea to the finished piece, each painting of mine undergoes a creative process where more ideas spring to mind. With each brushstroke comes another idea for a different one, one that wasn't accounted for in my original vision of the piece.

“I have seen, time and time again, something begin as an elementary idea in my mind transform into a complex and eye-catching piece, that is, in its own way, somehow simple.”

Often, the original vision that comes to mind for a painting is very simple. Typically it's too simple for my personal liking, but I embark upon the journey of creating it nonetheless and after seeing what happens next a few times, have come to entirely trust this process. I have seen, time and time again, something begin as an elementary idea in my mind transform into a complex and eye-catching piece, that is, in its own way, somehow simple.

And I do not criticize the original vision, because if I did that, I would never start it.

“I do not criticize the original vision, because if I did that, I would never start it.”

The original vision for the piece is but the first idea for the piece. More ideas follow in a steady stream once I have a paintbrush in-hand, as the true vision begins to crystallize on my canvas.

Being an artist is a lot like being an archaeologist- interestingly, another career that I wanted to pursue as a child. It's digging away at a piece that you don't know exists. When a vision for a painting strikes, it's as though I'm digging in the sand and suddenly my brush hits something. You continue digging- and painting- in order to discover what the rest of your find has in store.

“Being an artist is a lot like being an archaeologist... When a vision for a painting strikes, it’s as though I’m digging in the sand and suddenly my brush hits something. You continue digging- and painting- in order to discover what the rest of your find has in store.”

Another painting that this process was very evident in was "Juice." "Juice" was one that was inspired by the man I love. (LINK TO PREVIOUS BLOG)

What began as a simple idea for a single orange ball on a solid black background became something else entirely and way better than what my mind could have ever dreamt up.

This is a profound process in art and I know of two of my favorite artists who have explained this very same process with accuracy, Anselm Kiefer and Pablo Picasso.

I was a relatively new artist when I discovered these snippets by two of my heroes. I took both of them as extreme validation and reassurance that I was on the right path.

“Surely, if my process unknowingly mirrored the greats, I wasn’t far off from where I should be.”

Surely, if my process unknowingly mirrored the greats, I wasn't far off from where I should be.

Not that art should ever be a basis of comparison. It's not for that. It's for the simple validation that the methods and processes that I was employing to execute my art were, without knowing it, similar in fashion to those whose art I have admired most in my life.

I don't count anything a coincidence, and I don't think I'd be an impactful artist if I did.

Learning that other great artists' works underwent this same transformation from the "original" paintings in their heads to the "finished" ones hung on walls was a vote cast for me. I took it as a nod from the Universe. 

"Keep going."

“I don’t count anything a coincidence, and I don’t think I’d be an impactful artist if I did.”

So if you are an artist who is reading this and you are questioning (or even slightly curious) if what you are doing is "right" when you produce something that is 99% foreign to what you set out to create, I have no answer for you except: you are in relatively good company.

And keep going.

TRISHA WILES

Perfectionism is a convenient excuse for laziness.

I hear it all the time.

"I'm a perfectionist."

Hell, I used to say it.

Not coincidentally, it was during a period of my life when I wasn't producing much. 

“To say that you’re a perfectionist and that is why you refuse to get started is simply you putting a bow on your own laziness.”

To say that you're a perfectionist and that is why you refuse to get started is simply you putting a bow on your own laziness.

To say that you're a perfectionist and that's why you're never happy with how your ventures are going is simply you putting a bow on a crappy, unrealistic attitude.

Honestly, I'm not quite sure which is worse.

But trust me, I've tried both approaches so I know from experience. I'm writing this in the hopes of saving you time that I have wasted in the past.

I participated in an art show recently. It was the kind of art show where the attendees didn't really know much about art. They seemingly just wanted to get dressed up, carry a drink around and take photos in front of a signs reading "local art" for their Instagram pages.

And that's fine.

Honestly, any interest in art for any reason, I think, is a great thing.

I didn't take it personally. I still don't. I don't care why they were there or why anybody's anywhere for that matter. (But that's a different blog post entirely.)

“Had I said ‘My work needs to be perfect or else I won’t show up,’ I never would have been there. So I worked with what I had and I showed up.”

My point is this: had I let either of those two "perfectionist" types of excuses sink in, I never would have done the show at all.

I never would have attended to begin with because my paintings were not wired to be hung. They weren't really "ready" to be displayed. Had I said "My work needs to be perfect or else I won't show up," I never would have been there. So I worked with what I had and I showed up.

Then, once there, had I said "My work needs to respected and honored in the way I deem worthy otherwise I'm leaving," I would have left near the start of the show.

I would have wrapped up my pieces and left when the event's hired photographer kept hitting my pieces with his bookbag, despite my alerting him that his bookbag kept knocking into my paintings.

When he failed to adjust his bookbag to avoid hitting my paintings, I didn't blow up at him citing how many thousands of dollars my paintings sell for.

“I thanked him. Sincerely. Even if through gritted teeth.”

I didn't call him an idiot.

I didn't make a scene.

I tried to change the situation as best I could, by telling him about his bookbag knocking into my paintings, and then when the situation didn't change, I accepted it.

In full disclosure and to confirm that I'm no saint, I did, however, turn and make irate comments to my fiance about how I was "about ready to lose it" (to which he replied that I clearly already had).

But, more than any of that, I shook it off and smiled politely as that same photographer came to take photos of me at my booth, with my work. And when he was done, I thanked him. Sincerely. Even if through gritted teeth.

Yes, I had a small meltdown.

No, I didn't walk out and leave because things weren't "perfect."

The fact is: if you're waiting for the perfect time or perfect circumstances to live a dream, you're gonna die waiting.

“If you’re waiting for the perfect time or perfect circumstances to live a dream, you’re gonna die waiting.”

Your work may never be perfect.

Your website may never be perfect.

The environment and your audience may never be perfect.

And you will certainly never be perfect.

So you might as well get started and keep going regardless.

And there's perfection in the imperfection. There's beauty in the process of striving toward the goal.

It's an odd spiritual balancing act between skill and grace.

But if I've learned one thing in life, it is this: No one scores if they don't show up to the game.

“If I’ve learned one thing in life, it is this: No one scores if they don’t show up to the game.”

So table your laziness and your shitty attitude- those are all just excuses for your inaction anyhow- and show up. 

I'm pretty convinced that some of the greatest musicians, artists and authors in the world died broke, uninspired and completely unknown because they hid behind "perfectionism" and never risked anything enough to get started.

TRISHA WILES

Why I Talk about God in Art

I talk a lot about God in my art.

Whether it's "Prayer & Unity" or "Thy Will Not Mine" or another one of my works, sometimes the image of God is obvious in my pieces while with others, its more subtle. 

“God plays a huge role in all of my pieces because God plays a huge role in my life.”

God plays a huge role in all of my pieces because God plays a huge role in my life. The way I understand life is through the lens of my understanding of God.

My art would not exist without a God who has given it to me. 

Part of my "process" is the prayer I say before setting out on each piece, the meditative state that I enter upon their creation and the prayers I say throughout and after constructing each piece.

Before my first brushstroke, I pray.

When I can't seem to feel where the next brushstroke belongs, I pray.

Before I sign a finished piece, I pray.

I'm not here to debate the existence of God. As a former atheist, that debate is over for me.

“I’m not here to debate the existence of God. As a former atheist, that debate is over for me.”

If you bristle with antagonism when somebody mentions God, I wish you peace as you continue your journey through life.

But if you become giddy with excitement when somebody mentions God as a driving force for their creative endeavors, well then you're in the right place.

There is no shortage of God in my pieces, just as there is no shortage of God in my life.

“There is no shortage of God in my pieces, just as there is no shortage of God in my life.”

"Thy Will Not Mine" 2016

TRISHA WILES

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

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