Where Do You Get Your Ideas?
Every now and then, we dip our toes into some career-path pool or other to test the waters, and perhaps dive in.
Some jump eagerly, while others sort of quasi-slip on the tile and end up dog-paddling, yet still willing to go along. Either way, at some point we’re each wet and swimming.
Despite these necessary plunges, it is also useful to move back to the edge sometimes and double-check that our goals, aspirations and inspirations are still on-track. Some of us rise up out of the pool smoothly, with a model-esque, minimally-splashing little “kerplunk!”, while others kind of sputter noisily to the surface, eyes blinking from the chlorine, wondering where the last five years went.
My most recent stepping-back and thinking moment was triggered by a simple question from a fellow artist at ZaPow Gallery: “Where do you get your ideas?” It’s a perfectly valid question, and any artist – or anyone in any business- should be prepared to answer this at any time.
But what came out of my mouth that night was, essentially: “I don’t know, they just sorta come to me.” Not the best answer one can muster for one’s self-promotional and marketing efforts (and it doesn’t help your friends’ efforts to sell you, either). Since my answer was so… unhelpful, I realized it was time to sputter (er, I mean, rise elegantly), out of my pool, and assess.
My inspirations are varied, and not atypical: family, teachers, artists, and society. I grew up surrounded by art and art books and art supplies. I’m still swayed by my high school art teacher, who, with her lively and loving views on creativity and our world, was like a lifeguard. And I’ve always been influenced by Picasso, Warhol, Klee, O’Keeffe, Matisse, Dali, Kandinsky, Diebenkorn, Van Gogh, Chagall, Basquiat and so many more. (Ask any artist for their “list,” and it’ll be a long one.)
Light years ago, when I was a tour guide at the Denver Art Museum, three small Georgia O’Keeffe studies were part of the “Masterworks” tour, and seeing a retrospective at the Phillips Collection in Washington, D.C. three years ago brought her back to the forefront of my mind. Seeing her later works — via my now older mindset — deepened my connection and understanding.
Our world — loaded with people, cultures, thoughts, drama and humor — affects me deeply, and much of what I call my stream-of-consciousness outpouring is merely a reaction to all this continually swirling information. Attitude and perspective are so important: I think the universe is a place of beauty and hope and possibility, and I think things are ultimately good.
My art, often like my writing, trends toward the inspirational, that “rah-rah-you-can-do-it!” messaging. Even on a “bad” day, I can write or draw 51% good things going on in my view. I may also capture the other 49%, because life is a 100% formula, but I try to do so from my own unique angle. Which often requires much yellow. And some cats.
I’m grateful that ideation “flows” for me… every day I have words and pictures in my head, and I have to sketch them out. However, possessing gifts from the ether doesn’t give me a free pass to not explain myself. It’s part of the current in which we must swim. Understanding my history, my influences, and a bit about how I observe and absorb the world, helps me come up with an answer as to how I got a concept from my head and onto paper.
Communicating one’s message is a huge part of staying in business. As you jump back into your career pool of choice, don’t forget your swim floaties to help you tread along as you ponder perfect answers. And an acknowledging nod to the lifeguards you meet along the way couldn’t hurt – after all, they’re here to help us navigate the waters. Sometimes simply by asking useful questions.
