Commit to a (Small) Project
For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been producing hand-painted greeting cards for a fundraiser my friend Doris Smeltzer and I began planning in December. She runs a nonprofit called Andrea’s Voice, which focuses on eating disorder prevention and education. So far this project has been great for creative productivity. 
Of course the obvious effect on productivity is that I produce the cards that have been ordered. I improve my skill at calligraphy and painting. I get practice at signing my artist’s signature. I get better and faster at making cards.
But I also have had a chance to make another creative product. For a long time, I’ve been meaning to write down the process I use to make the cards, both for myself (if I don’t make any for a while, I forget how) and as a product, so that other people can learn to make the cards too. I hope to create a How To document and possibly a video, as well as templates that people can use to create similar cards. So, as I’ve been making the cards for my first orders, I’ve been refining the process and documenting it, which is getting me closer to that goal.
However, in terms of creative productivity, the most important effect of this project has not been any particular product. The most important effect is that I’m getting lots of practice in starting, continuing, and FINISHING projects, including packing and shipping the completed cards. I’m practicing planning and managing my time in order to finish each order on time (“allow 7-14 days for delivery”). I can’t do all the orders at once at the last minute, first because there are too many and each card must be worked on in four sessions with drying time in between, and second because of RSI. I can only do the lettering on about 20 cards before my arm starts to hurt. I have to work on them in sessions. I’ve been doing my best to work on them every day, and that has gone pretty well so far. A few days ago, I finished the last of the early orders and sent them off! It’s very exciting.
I’m usually afraid to commit to something like this, because I worry about being able to meet expectations. But for some reason this time I didn’t worry. Maybe I knew I could handle it: I’ve made these cards before and know how. It’s true that I didn’t know how everything would work when I approached Doris with this idea, but I knew that together we could figure it out. And now I’m done with my first orders! (Yes, I did have a serious setback while working on the cards. But I also overcame it. I will tell you about it in my next post.)
I encourage you to commit to a project, nothing too huge or scary, something you know you can do. I’m sure the benefits will be great.
P.S. If you’d like to order cards, click here.

Commit to a (Small) Project

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been producing hand-painted greeting cards for a fundraiser my friend Doris Smeltzer and I began planning in December. She runs a nonprofit called Andrea’s Voice, which focuses on eating disorder prevention and education. So far this project has been great for creative productivity. 

Of course the obvious effect on productivity is that I produce the cards that have been ordered. I improve my skill at calligraphy and painting. I get practice at signing my artist’s signature. I get better and faster at making cards.

But I also have had a chance to make another creative product. For a long time, I’ve been meaning to write down the process I use to make the cards, both for myself (if I don’t make any for a while, I forget how) and as a product, so that other people can learn to make the cards too. I hope to create a How To document and possibly a video, as well as templates that people can use to create similar cards. So, as I’ve been making the cards for my first orders, I’ve been refining the process and documenting it, which is getting me closer to that goal.

However, in terms of creative productivity, the most important effect of this project has not been any particular product. The most important effect is that I’m getting lots of practice in starting, continuing, and FINISHING projects, including packing and shipping the completed cards. I’m practicing planning and managing my time in order to finish each order on time (“allow 7-14 days for delivery”). I can’t do all the orders at once at the last minute, first because there are too many and each card must be worked on in four sessions with drying time in between, and second because of RSI. I can only do the lettering on about 20 cards before my arm starts to hurt. I have to work on them in sessions. I’ve been doing my best to work on them every day, and that has gone pretty well so far. A few days ago, I finished the last of the early orders and sent them off! It’s very exciting.

I’m usually afraid to commit to something like this, because I worry about being able to meet expectations. But for some reason this time I didn’t worry. Maybe I knew I could handle it: I’ve made these cards before and know how. It’s true that I didn’t know how everything would work when I approached Doris with this idea, but I knew that together we could figure it out. And now I’m done with my first orders! (Yes, I did have a serious setback while working on the cards. But I also overcame it. I will tell you about it in my next post.)

I encourage you to commit to a project, nothing too huge or scary, something you know you can do. I’m sure the benefits will be great.

P.S. If you’d like to order cards, click here.

Title Your Work
I recently had an amazing experience. I know you’re supposed to title your work; I mean, people whose other advice I take are always giving that advice too. When I was doing the Daily Composition, I realized that a great way to get more usefulness out of the exercise was to title them - in order to get practice at coming up with titles. It was hard, but fun. And when I sold my first painting, I used a lot of energy and time to give it a good title that went with the mood and theme of the piece. I thought it added to the piece, and my client was also happy with the title.
I am a writer as well as a visual artist, and I love words and titles. But I had incorporated the practice of titling pieces not because I really believed in it, but rather because of the advice I’ve seen (it adds value to your work, it helps viewers feel more connected to the piece, etc. - see Alan Bamberger’s article and Alyson Stanfield’s blog post for discussions of some of these reasons). Nevertheless, I had mostly been titling my work. But I’ve been taking this class where we paint the same still life for 20 paintings, and I hadn’t been titling the individual paintings. I titled the series and enjoyed doing it, but for some reason the paintings didn’t seem to need titles. I was just titling them “The Lion and the Lamb Drink Sake #1,” “The Lion and the Lamb Drink Sake #2,” etc. 
But the other day I was talking with a classmate, and I realized that if I was going to follow my titling policy I would have to title these paintings, too. Okay, fine.
So when I was getting ready to put away the most recent finished paintings, I thought, “Oops, I have to title them. No, it will take too long. I’ll wait until I’m done with them all.” There’s my old enemy perfectionism again. But I also have an ally when it comes to activities like this, things like doing the dishes, things that have to be done over and over, things that are not that big in themselves (wash one plate) but can pile up and become overwhelming (a whole sink full of who knows what). The ally is THERE IS NO LATER. (For other types of activities, like projects that can be finished and don’t regenerate, I have another, equally helpful, ally: LATER DOES EXIST. As in, you don’t have to do everything right now.) But the titling of paintings is definitely a situation in which THERE IS NO LATER. In fact, it already felt overwhelming - there were 15 of these paintings, and none of them had a title!
Let me tell you the truth. I did decide to do it later. I put the paintings away. I was supposed to be reviewing a manuscript at the time, and I didn’t have time to come up with four titles, write them on the backs of the paintings, wait for the ink to dry, which, with four paintings, means I would have had to dry one on my work space, which stops me from making the next painting… etc. But then I also had to label the digital photographs (another activity for which THERE IS NO LATER), so I was sitting in front of my computer, knowing that I really should make those titles right now, because THERE IS NO LATER. It took a while to get started. It took a battle with perfectionism - because of course, if I wait, they’re going to be better, right? I didn’t even think of my ally DONE, but that one sure would have helped.
In any case, I did finally start typing in the tentative titles that were floating around in my mind. Just like any writing project, the key is to get SOMETHING on paper. Anything. And then you can change it. So I did that. And it got easier. I titled all of them. I changed some of the titles. I left some earlier pieces with just descriptions of the visual experiment I was making, rather than “real” titles. But I finished it. Good for me.
And then something strange happened. I was sitting there, re-reading my titles, and I suddenly felt a strong connection with my paintings. I hadn’t felt an emotional connection with them before - they were just exercises, experiments in composition, fun and valuable to do but meaningless as finished products. But as I sat reading the titles and looking at the paintings, they started to become meaningful. A story of sorts even started to form in my mind. It was like suddenly the paintings were related to me now, a part of my life. Amazing!
The feeling actually reminds me of the first 1/8 sheet painting I ever did, the first painting from “During.” After I titled it, I suddenly saw the metaphorical significance of the painting and how it was completely relevant to my life at the time. Before the title, it was just an image I had seen and replicated. After the title, it was meaningful.
Does this happen because I’m a writer (or a language-oriented person)? Does it happen to other people, too? Before this experience, I could already see the value in the advice to title your work because it makes the work more meaningful to your viewers. But I didn’t realize it would also make the work more meaningful to me, and that may be even more valuable.
The image is the first painting from my still life series.
Title: The Lion and the Lamb Drink Sake #1: After the First ClassArtist: Keiko O’LearySize:  22 x 30” (56 x 76 cm)Medium: watercolor

Title Your Work

I recently had an amazing experience. I know you’re supposed to title your work; I mean, people whose other advice I take are always giving that advice too. When I was doing the Daily Composition, I realized that a great way to get more usefulness out of the exercise was to title them - in order to get practice at coming up with titles. It was hard, but fun. And when I sold my first painting, I used a lot of energy and time to give it a good title that went with the mood and theme of the piece. I thought it added to the piece, and my client was also happy with the title.

I am a writer as well as a visual artist, and I love words and titles. But I had incorporated the practice of titling pieces not because I really believed in it, but rather because of the advice I’ve seen (it adds value to your work, it helps viewers feel more connected to the piece, etc. - see Alan Bamberger’s article and Alyson Stanfield’s blog post for discussions of some of these reasons). Nevertheless, I had mostly been titling my work. But I’ve been taking this class where we paint the same still life for 20 paintings, and I hadn’t been titling the individual paintings. I titled the series and enjoyed doing it, but for some reason the paintings didn’t seem to need titles. I was just titling them “The Lion and the Lamb Drink Sake #1,” “The Lion and the Lamb Drink Sake #2,” etc. 

But the other day I was talking with a classmate, and I realized that if I was going to follow my titling policy I would have to title these paintings, too. Okay, fine.

So when I was getting ready to put away the most recent finished paintings, I thought, “Oops, I have to title them. No, it will take too long. I’ll wait until I’m done with them all.” There’s my old enemy perfectionism again. But I also have an ally when it comes to activities like this, things like doing the dishes, things that have to be done over and over, things that are not that big in themselves (wash one plate) but can pile up and become overwhelming (a whole sink full of who knows what). The ally is THERE IS NO LATER. (For other types of activities, like projects that can be finished and don’t regenerate, I have another, equally helpful, ally: LATER DOES EXIST. As in, you don’t have to do everything right now.) But the titling of paintings is definitely a situation in which THERE IS NO LATER. In fact, it already felt overwhelming - there were 15 of these paintings, and none of them had a title!

Let me tell you the truth. I did decide to do it later. I put the paintings away. I was supposed to be reviewing a manuscript at the time, and I didn’t have time to come up with four titles, write them on the backs of the paintings, wait for the ink to dry, which, with four paintings, means I would have had to dry one on my work space, which stops me from making the next painting… etc. But then I also had to label the digital photographs (another activity for which THERE IS NO LATER), so I was sitting in front of my computer, knowing that I really should make those titles right now, because THERE IS NO LATER. It took a while to get started. It took a battle with perfectionism - because of course, if I wait, they’re going to be better, right? I didn’t even think of my ally DONE, but that one sure would have helped.

In any case, I did finally start typing in the tentative titles that were floating around in my mind. Just like any writing project, the key is to get SOMETHING on paper. Anything. And then you can change it. So I did that. And it got easier. I titled all of them. I changed some of the titles. I left some earlier pieces with just descriptions of the visual experiment I was making, rather than “real” titles. But I finished it. Good for me.

And then something strange happened. I was sitting there, re-reading my titles, and I suddenly felt a strong connection with my paintings. I hadn’t felt an emotional connection with them before - they were just exercises, experiments in composition, fun and valuable to do but meaningless as finished products. But as I sat reading the titles and looking at the paintings, they started to become meaningful. A story of sorts even started to form in my mind. It was like suddenly the paintings were related to me now, a part of my life. Amazing!

The feeling actually reminds me of the first 1/8 sheet painting I ever did, the first painting from “During.” After I titled it, I suddenly saw the metaphorical significance of the painting and how it was completely relevant to my life at the time. Before the title, it was just an image I had seen and replicated. After the title, it was meaningful.

Does this happen because I’m a writer (or a language-oriented person)? Does it happen to other people, too? Before this experience, I could already see the value in the advice to title your work because it makes the work more meaningful to your viewers. But I didn’t realize it would also make the work more meaningful to me, and that may be even more valuable.

The image is the first painting from my still life series.

Title: The Lion and the Lamb Drink Sake #1: After the First Class
Artist: Keiko O’Leary
Size:  22 x 30” (56 x 76 cm)
Medium: watercolor

Using Up Paint
This is a picture of the first tube of paint I ever used up. I used it up just now, tonight, while working on my 13th painting for Mike Bailey’s class. I don’t quite know how I feel about it yet, but it does remind me of the first time I used up a pen, and of the first time I used up a tube of lip balm without losing it first. Those two events were accompanied by a great sense of accomplishment.
As for the paint, I’m still a bit bewildered. I mean, aren’t these tubes infinite? I’ve had them for years! On the other hand, it must mean I am producing paintings, because that is the way that paint gets used up. So that means that, if I’m lucky and keep producing, I will use up more tubes. And have to buy more paint to replace the used up tubes. Wow. That seems so strange.
But it reminds me of when I was writing a lot, and I started to buy my pen refills in batches of 50. I’d go through maybe one refill per week. It became commonplace to change out the refill. I forgot about how I amazed I was the first time I used up a pen. Maybe that will happen for me with paint. That would be interesting! And a good sign for creative productivity.
In any case, I suppose I have to be proud of myself. But, to tell you the truth, really all I’m interested in right now is for the paint to dry so that I can FINISH THIS PAINTING!
I guess that’s a good sign, too.

Using Up Paint

This is a picture of the first tube of paint I ever used up. I used it up just now, tonight, while working on my 13th painting for Mike Bailey’s class. I don’t quite know how I feel about it yet, but it does remind me of the first time I used up a pen, and of the first time I used up a tube of lip balm without losing it first. Those two events were accompanied by a great sense of accomplishment.

As for the paint, I’m still a bit bewildered. I mean, aren’t these tubes infinite? I’ve had them for years! On the other hand, it must mean I am producing paintings, because that is the way that paint gets used up. So that means that, if I’m lucky and keep producing, I will use up more tubes. And have to buy more paint to replace the used up tubes. Wow. That seems so strange.

But it reminds me of when I was writing a lot, and I started to buy my pen refills in batches of 50. I’d go through maybe one refill per week. It became commonplace to change out the refill. I forgot about how I amazed I was the first time I used up a pen. Maybe that will happen for me with paint. That would be interesting! And a good sign for creative productivity.

In any case, I suppose I have to be proud of myself. But, to tell you the truth, really all I’m interested in right now is for the paint to dry so that I can FINISH THIS PAINTING!

I guess that’s a good sign, too.

World Wide SketchCrawl 34 RESULTS
I’ve (finally) uploaded my sketches from the most recent SketchCrawl to http://www.sketchcrawl.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=59&t=7588. I’d love for you to see them! 
The image is one of the sketches, a spread from the book I made for the SketchCrawl. I still need to bind the book so that I can be completely DONE, but I will keep you posted about that. For now, at least I am DONE with posting the sketches!
Title: Cypresses and Distant Hills on Highway 1Artist: Keiko O’LearyMedium: Ink and watercolorSize: 6 x 9” (15 x 23 cm)

World Wide SketchCrawl 34 RESULTS

I’ve (finally) uploaded my sketches from the most recent SketchCrawl to http://www.sketchcrawl.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=59&t=7588. I’d love for you to see them! 

The image is one of the sketches, a spread from the book I made for the SketchCrawl. I still need to bind the book so that I can be completely DONE, but I will keep you posted about that. For now, at least I am DONE with posting the sketches!

Title: Cypresses and Distant Hills on Highway 1
Artist: Keiko O’Leary
Medium: Ink and watercolor
Size: 6 x 9” (15 x 23 cm)

Watercolor Beyond the Obvious
I’ve been taking a class that is helping me LEARN TO FINISH. It is called Watercolor Beyond the Obvious. Mike Bailey teaches it through SCVWS.
This is the main structure of the class: at the beginning of the 10 weeks that the class runs for, each students sets up a still life. Then over the 10 weeks, each student paints 20 paintings of that still life, from the exact same perspective, without moving any of the objects or changing anything about the original setup. Mike even suggested that we draw the still life and then dismantle it and work from our drawing.
I think this is a brilliant teaching method. I’ll talk more about why in another post. The point I want to make right now is this: having to finish two paintings every week forces me to finish two paintings every week. I am getting lots of practice at DONE.
And, speaking of DONE, now it is time to be DONE with this post so I can go work on this week’s paintings.
The image is my sketch of my still life for the class. The title of the series is The Lion and the Lamb Drink Sake.
Title: The Lion and the Lamb Drink Sake (sketch)Artist: Keiko O’LearySize:  7 x 9” (18 x 23 cm)Medium: ink on paper

Watercolor Beyond the Obvious

I’ve been taking a class that is helping me LEARN TO FINISH. It is called Watercolor Beyond the Obvious. Mike Bailey teaches it through SCVWS.

This is the main structure of the class: at the beginning of the 10 weeks that the class runs for, each students sets up a still life. Then over the 10 weeks, each student paints 20 paintings of that still life, from the exact same perspective, without moving any of the objects or changing anything about the original setup. Mike even suggested that we draw the still life and then dismantle it and work from our drawing.

I think this is a brilliant teaching method. I’ll talk more about why in another post. The point I want to make right now is this: having to finish two paintings every week forces me to finish two paintings every week. I am getting lots of practice at DONE.

And, speaking of DONE, now it is time to be DONE with this post so I can go work on this week’s paintings.

The image is my sketch of my still life for the class. The title of the series is The Lion and the Lamb Drink Sake.

Title: The Lion and the Lamb Drink Sake (sketch)
Artist: Keiko O’Leary
Size:  7 x 9” (18 x 23 cm)
Medium: ink on paper

Done!
Perfectionism has been kicking my *@% the past few months, but I’ve found a way to fight back. I’ll call this new ally JUST GET IT DONE, or maybe simply DONE.
My writing friend Anthony Francis wrote about this topic recently, in an essay on his blog. The title is “It’s Better To Be Done.” If you’re trying to improve your creative productivity, you should read his essay. Then see what you can finish right now, go finish it, and come back and re-read the essay. Repeat as necessary.
This idea of learning to finish and finishing regularly is actually at the core of The Creative Productivity Project, although I hadn’t thought about it so clearly before. In my very first post, I talk about the problem of starting things but not finishing them, and how I’m starting The Creative Productivity Project in order to (as I hadn’t thought of then, but as Anthony would put it) LEARN TO FINISH.
Wow, so finishing is a skill! Who knew? But that’s the best news I’ve heard all week, because it means that I can improve. More about this later.
For now, it’s time to be DONE.
The image is a self-portrait that I painted at my art lessons. I’d been working on it for over a month. This week I just made myself finish it. I still wasn’t happy with it, but IT’S BETTER TO BE DONE. I can always do another self-portrait, even from the same photograph if I want. I’m sure that if I did that, the second one would go a lot faster. But what matters right now is that this one is DONE!
Title: Self-Portrait with Amber EarringArtist: Keiko O’LearySize:  8 x 10” (20 x 25 cm)Medium: pastel on colored paper

Done!

Perfectionism has been kicking my *@% the past few months, but I’ve found a way to fight back. I’ll call this new ally JUST GET IT DONE, or maybe simply DONE.

My writing friend Anthony Francis wrote about this topic recently, in an essay on his blog. The title is “It’s Better To Be Done.” If you’re trying to improve your creative productivity, you should read his essay. Then see what you can finish right now, go finish it, and come back and re-read the essay. Repeat as necessary.

This idea of learning to finish and finishing regularly is actually at the core of The Creative Productivity Project, although I hadn’t thought about it so clearly before. In my very first post, I talk about the problem of starting things but not finishing them, and how I’m starting The Creative Productivity Project in order to (as I hadn’t thought of then, but as Anthony would put it) LEARN TO FINISH.

Wow, so finishing is a skill! Who knew? But that’s the best news I’ve heard all week, because it means that I can improve. More about this later.

For now, it’s time to be DONE.

The image is a self-portrait that I painted at my art lessons. I’d been working on it for over a month. This week I just made myself finish it. I still wasn’t happy with it, but IT’S BETTER TO BE DONE. I can always do another self-portrait, even from the same photograph if I want. I’m sure that if I did that, the second one would go a lot faster. But what matters right now is that this one is DONE!

Title: Self-Portrait with Amber Earring
Artist: Keiko O’Leary
Size:  8 x 10” (20 x 25 cm)
Medium: pastel on colored paper

New Year’s Magic Actions
In Chile, where my husband’s family lives, I have not known anyone to make New Year’s resolutions. But they do something that’s possibly more effective, and that something has been helpful for me in increasing creative productivity.
On New Year’s Eve in Chile, people wait for midnight and toast the new year with champagne and a kiss, just like I am used to doing in California. But after that, everyone rushes to perform a symbolic action that will bring them what they want in the new year. People jump up on the couch to leave behind anything bad from the previous year. If they want to travel, they take their suitcases for a trip around the block. They eat a spoonful of lentils for prosperity, or 12 grapes to make their wishes come true. There are many more traditional midnight actions, promising to bring anything from marriage to money to new clothes.
Are these little rituals just superstitions, or do they actually work? I’d bet they are at least as effective as New Year’s resolutions. And I’d like to suggest you try a variation on them, one that has been quite effective for me.
I see these rituals as a powerful way of setting an intention for the year. But I prefer to create my own symbolic action, because as many traditional possibilities as there are, they don’t always cover what I want for the new year. For example, the first year I did this, I wanted to exercise more. So at midnight I jogged around the house in running shoes. I ended up exercising much more that year than if I had set a New Year’s resolution and visited the gym one or two times before forgetting all about it.
This New Year’s Eve at midnight I painted the above painting. My articulated intention, in keeping with my desire for creative productivity, was something like “I want to complete many paintings this year.” And I have painted a few paintings already. But another aspect of how I did this year’s midnight action has been affecting me more. I have painted at midnight at least one other time, but that time I went off by myself, painted furtively, and returned to the party without telling anyone what I was doing. This time I set up my painting supplies in the living room and painted while toasting the new year with my family. I am very shy and hesitant to share the work I create, even with those closest to me. But in the 26 days since performing my midnight action, I have showed a lot of work to a lot of people, and it hasn’t been that hard. I have even become more open about my writing projects, which to me shows the vast superiority of symbolic actions over literal “resolutions.”
Why do these midnight actions work? The short answer: I don’t know. A longer answer: I think it’s because you don’t have to do everything yourself - you get help from something bigger than your own puny and unreliable willpower. Declaring what you want and taking a real action (no matter how small) in support of that desire somehow makes “providence move too.” Wherever this help may come from, it certainly has given me better results than anything my resolution-prone but highly distractible regular self has ever achieved on its own.
As a scientist, I have to admit that there is no way to tell, based on my own experiences and other anecdotal evidence, whether these things work or not. But they SEEM to work, and they are fun, so I say they are worth doing. Try it this year and see what you think.
Yes, I know it’s already January 26. I’ll write about this again closer to the end of the year. But I also think it might be useful to try this sort of symbolic action at other times of year - perhaps when beginning a new project, or at the start of each new month? Or even each week? Could it possibly work out to do a small one every morning? If you try any of these out, I’d love to hear about your experience. (Click on “Comments” below. You can comment anonymously or with one of many accounts such as Google or Facebook.)
The image is my painting from my New Year’s midnight magic action.
Title: New Year’s SnowArtist: Keiko O’LearySize:  7.5 x 11” (19 x 28 cm)Medium: watercolor

New Year’s Magic Actions

In Chile, where my husband’s family lives, I have not known anyone to make New Year’s resolutions. But they do something that’s possibly more effective, and that something has been helpful for me in increasing creative productivity.

On New Year’s Eve in Chile, people wait for midnight and toast the new year with champagne and a kiss, just like I am used to doing in California. But after that, everyone rushes to perform a symbolic action that will bring them what they want in the new year. People jump up on the couch to leave behind anything bad from the previous year. If they want to travel, they take their suitcases for a trip around the block. They eat a spoonful of lentils for prosperity, or 12 grapes to make their wishes come true. There are many more traditional midnight actions, promising to bring anything from marriage to money to new clothes.

Are these little rituals just superstitions, or do they actually work? I’d bet they are at least as effective as New Year’s resolutions. And I’d like to suggest you try a variation on them, one that has been quite effective for me.

I see these rituals as a powerful way of setting an intention for the year. But I prefer to create my own symbolic action, because as many traditional possibilities as there are, they don’t always cover what I want for the new year. For example, the first year I did this, I wanted to exercise more. So at midnight I jogged around the house in running shoes. I ended up exercising much more that year than if I had set a New Year’s resolution and visited the gym one or two times before forgetting all about it.

This New Year’s Eve at midnight I painted the above painting. My articulated intention, in keeping with my desire for creative productivity, was something like “I want to complete many paintings this year.” And I have painted a few paintings already. But another aspect of how I did this year’s midnight action has been affecting me more. I have painted at midnight at least one other time, but that time I went off by myself, painted furtively, and returned to the party without telling anyone what I was doing. This time I set up my painting supplies in the living room and painted while toasting the new year with my family. I am very shy and hesitant to share the work I create, even with those closest to me. But in the 26 days since performing my midnight action, I have showed a lot of work to a lot of people, and it hasn’t been that hard. I have even become more open about my writing projects, which to me shows the vast superiority of symbolic actions over literal “resolutions.”

Why do these midnight actions work? The short answer: I don’t know. A longer answer: I think it’s because you don’t have to do everything yourself - you get help from something bigger than your own puny and unreliable willpower. Declaring what you want and taking a real action (no matter how small) in support of that desire somehow makes “providence move too.” Wherever this help may come from, it certainly has given me better results than anything my resolution-prone but highly distractible regular self has ever achieved on its own.

As a scientist, I have to admit that there is no way to tell, based on my own experiences and other anecdotal evidence, whether these things work or not. But they SEEM to work, and they are fun, so I say they are worth doing. Try it this year and see what you think.

Yes, I know it’s already January 26. I’ll write about this again closer to the end of the year. But I also think it might be useful to try this sort of symbolic action at other times of year - perhaps when beginning a new project, or at the start of each new month? Or even each week? Could it possibly work out to do a small one every morning? If you try any of these out, I’d love to hear about your experience. (Click on “Comments” below. You can comment anonymously or with one of many accounts such as Google or Facebook.)

The image is my painting from my New Year’s midnight magic action.

Title: New Year’s Snow
Artist: Keiko O’Leary
Size:  7.5 x 11” (19 x 28 cm)
Medium: watercolor


Human Allies

I’ve talked a lot about what I call allies: those helpful reminders, habits, or rules such as LOSE YOUR QUEEN and TIME LIMIT. But my most important allies are my human colleagues.
I’ve been trying to write this post for a few weeks now, and I keep getting caught up in perfectionism, because the task of explaining how important my human allies are is just too big. I’m going to have to break it down into manageable chunks. (There must be a behavioral ally for that - what would it be called?)
But for now, so that I can finally post something, I’d better just say THANK YOU. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! I will try to elaborate on this in future posts.
The image is the first in a series of painting/haiku experiments.
Title: Loquat BlossomsSize:  7.5 x 5.5” (19 x 14 cm)Medium: watercolor and india ink

Human Allies

I’ve talked a lot about what I call allies: those helpful reminders, habits, or rules such as LOSE YOUR QUEEN and TIME LIMIT. But my most important allies are my human colleagues.

I’ve been trying to write this post for a few weeks now, and I keep getting caught up in perfectionism, because the task of explaining how important my human allies are is just too big. I’m going to have to break it down into manageable chunks. (There must be a behavioral ally for that - what would it be called?)

But for now, so that I can finally post something, I’d better just say THANK YOU. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! I will try to elaborate on this in future posts.

The image is the first in a series of painting/haiku experiments.

Title: Loquat Blossoms
Size:  7.5 x 5.5” (19 x 14 cm)
Medium: watercolor and india ink


Copying, Live

About a month ago, I wrote a post about how much I had learned from copying a painting out of a magazine. Last week at Frank Francese’s workshop I tried another method of copying. The painting shown here is the result.  For this painting, instead of watching Frank’s demo and then trying to replicate the entire process, I painted along with him as he demonstrated, attempting to replicate his work brushstroke by brushstroke. Here is what I noticed about this process:
1. It was much easier than waiting until the demo was over to paint. I believe this is because when you wait, you have to think and remember. When you copy brushstroke by brushstroke, the only task is to try to keep up.
2. The painting I ended up with turned out much better than any painting I had done with the “watch demo, then paint” method. Why is this? Because all the thinking and planning and stroke order was master level (Frank did it all) and only the paint application was novice level (me copying). When I did the “watch demo, then paint” method, I had to do my own planning because I could not remember exactly what he had done. It’s possible that this could be helpful for learning because it allows the student to focus on a single skill (or at least a reduced number of skills).
3. Copying in this way gave me a physical understanding of the difference between what a master’s body knows how to do when he applies paint versus what my body does not yet know how to do. I think this will be helpful as I attempt to gain mastery.
4. Frank paints fast. But I can paint that fast, too, as long as I know where to put the paint. Woo hoo! So I will continue to practice, and I will improve both my execution and my speed. (And that will of course be great for creative productivity.)
I am glad I tried this method of copying, and I think the experience will ultimately lead to improved art skills. This painting shows a level of skill that is beyond my current abilities, because it shows only my paint application skill and uses someone else’s composition, method, and planning. But I did actually execute this painting with my own hand, and I believe that that experience will help guide me as I develop my own working methods.
The painting is on a quarter sheet (11 x 15” [28 x 38 cm]).

Copying, Live

About a month ago, I wrote a post about how much I had learned from copying a painting out of a magazine. Last week at Frank Francese’s workshop I tried another method of copying. The painting shown here is the result.  For this painting, instead of watching Frank’s demo and then trying to replicate the entire process, I painted along with him as he demonstrated, attempting to replicate his work brushstroke by brushstroke. Here is what I noticed about this process:

1. It was much easier than waiting until the demo was over to paint. I believe this is because when you wait, you have to think and remember. When you copy brushstroke by brushstroke, the only task is to try to keep up.

2. The painting I ended up with turned out much better than any painting I had done with the “watch demo, then paint” method. Why is this? Because all the thinking and planning and stroke order was master level (Frank did it all) and only the paint application was novice level (me copying). When I did the “watch demo, then paint” method, I had to do my own planning because I could not remember exactly what he had done. It’s possible that this could be helpful for learning because it allows the student to focus on a single skill (or at least a reduced number of skills).

3. Copying in this way gave me a physical understanding of the difference between what a master’s body knows how to do when he applies paint versus what my body does not yet know how to do. I think this will be helpful as I attempt to gain mastery.

4. Frank paints fast. But I can paint that fast, too, as long as I know where to put the paint. Woo hoo! So I will continue to practice, and I will improve both my execution and my speed. (And that will of course be great for creative productivity.)

I am glad I tried this method of copying, and I think the experience will ultimately lead to improved art skills. This painting shows a level of skill that is beyond my current abilities, because it shows only my paint application skill and uses someone else’s composition, method, and planning. But I did actually execute this painting with my own hand, and I believe that that experience will help guide me as I develop my own working methods.

The painting is on a quarter sheet (11 x 15” [28 x 38 cm]).

Frank Francese Workshop
This week I am taking a watercolor workshop with Frank Francese. I am thrilled, because being exposed to his method of painting is going to help my creative productivity like crazy! Here is how he works: When he’s walking around and finds a subject he likes, he does a line drawing of it. Then later at home he adds values using grey markers. (He just makes up the values, using his knowledge of what things look like plus his sense of composition.) When it comes time to paint, he does not draw on the watercolor paper. He works from his value sketch and in 20 minutes he can finish a full sheet painting (22 x 30” [56 x 76 cm]). He does hundreds of paintings a year. I love it!
His way of working may be the closest I’ve yet seen to the way I originally imagined a master artist would work, before I started to study. Basically: see something, paint it. My original idea was that an artist would paint from life or imagination, with all the measuring etc. taking place in his or her mind/eye/hand, due to having studied and practiced so much. That was my original goal, to become that skilled.
I think I must have chosen that goal partly because I thought that was what other people did. But as I’ve been studying, I’ve read many art instruction books that are full of measuring, drawing on the paper, gridding, using masking fluid, and even tracing photographs. Not that there is anything wrong with these methods. They are just not what I had originally imagined, and the unconscious conclusion I drew from reading all this material was “No one can do what you wanted to do.” So I’ve gotten away from my initial goal without realizing it was happening.  
But seeing Frank Francese work has reminded me of how I originally wanted to work, and of how much fun I have when I work like that. I think that even though my original image may have been naive, it would still be good for me to fashion my own working and learning methods with that original image in mind. I think that will get me closer to creative authenticity. And I will enjoy myself more!
The image is (a pretty bad photograph of) a practice painting from the workshop, done from one of Frank’s value sketches. It is on a quarter sheet (11 x 15” [28 x 38 cm]).
In the interests of creative productivity and writing about things as they are happening, I am going to publish this post, even though I can see that the writing is pretty much as clunky and unskilled as the painting and the photograph. I hope that you can more or less make out what I am trying to say. And I will keep trying to improve!

Frank Francese Workshop

This week I am taking a watercolor workshop with Frank Francese. I am thrilled, because being exposed to his method of painting is going to help my creative productivity like crazy! Here is how he works: When he’s walking around and finds a subject he likes, he does a line drawing of it. Then later at home he adds values using grey markers. (He just makes up the values, using his knowledge of what things look like plus his sense of composition.) When it comes time to paint, he does not draw on the watercolor paper. He works from his value sketch and in 20 minutes he can finish a full sheet painting (22 x 30” [56 x 76 cm]). He does hundreds of paintings a year. I love it!

His way of working may be the closest I’ve yet seen to the way I originally imagined a master artist would work, before I started to study. Basically: see something, paint it. My original idea was that an artist would paint from life or imagination, with all the measuring etc. taking place in his or her mind/eye/hand, due to having studied and practiced so much. That was my original goal, to become that skilled.

I think I must have chosen that goal partly because I thought that was what other people did. But as I’ve been studying, I’ve read many art instruction books that are full of measuring, drawing on the paper, gridding, using masking fluid, and even tracing photographs. Not that there is anything wrong with these methods. They are just not what I had originally imagined, and the unconscious conclusion I drew from reading all this material was “No one can do what you wanted to do.” So I’ve gotten away from my initial goal without realizing it was happening.  

But seeing Frank Francese work has reminded me of how I originally wanted to work, and of how much fun I have when I work like that. I think that even though my original image may have been naive, it would still be good for me to fashion my own working and learning methods with that original image in mind. I think that will get me closer to creative authenticity. And I will enjoy myself more!

The image is (a pretty bad photograph of) a practice painting from the workshop, done from one of Frank’s value sketches. It is on a quarter sheet (11 x 15” [28 x 38 cm]).

In the interests of creative productivity and writing about things as they are happening, I am going to publish this post, even though I can see that the writing is pretty much as clunky and unskilled as the painting and the photograph. I hope that you can more or less make out what I am trying to say. And I will keep trying to improve!