3 min read, 565 words

MY TEACHERS

Artists need to see our influences. We copy, combine, and transform all our influences into a mosaic to produce our own work. We integrate these influences over time into our own craft and our own visions. This is how we find our voice. It’s the occult science, the blessed mess, the damned miracle of art.

In addition to our own traumas and triumphs, we are also influenced by the art we absorb in our lives. Visions from artists in every medium. The work that speaks to us, that disappoints us, that disturbs us, feels familiar to us, that astounds us. If you’re a filmmaker, you’re conscious that you’re influenced by films you’ve seen. But if you’re not aware that you’re also influenced by fashion and architecture and painting and movement and music… well, iydknyk. Art from outside our discipline can be some of our greatest teachers.

Early on we’re drawn to emulating artists in our discipline because we can borrow their craft and style. The “how to” of our craft is the biggest challenge when you’re starting out. But as we mature as artists, we get more comfortable with our craft and start searching for our own voice. At this point our influences become less about process and more about content. We become free to integrate aesthetics, opinions, and themese from art in other disciplines.

In 2011, I had to be convinced to go to a fashion exhibit at the Met. I wanted to understand this art form. I wanted to respect it. But for the life of me I did not understand the art of fashion. I dress in 99.9% Banana Republic. What’s the canvas? What tools do you use? Do I process the work on the rack, on the runway, on my body? I wanted to hear the designer’s intentions but I never could before.

As I walked through ‘Savage Beauty’ by Alexander McQueen I stared in awe at an exhibit filled with clothing, costume, and video from fashion shows. It washed over me. And I recognized it— this is all story. I don't know the language but I can feel the stories of human beings being told.

In Romantic Gothic I saw men and women brooding through ghost stories that reflected the infirmities of their Victorian bodies.

In Highland Rape I saw women who’d survived violence to their bodies standing up, struggling, and yearning to speak.

In Plato’s Atlantis I saw an angelic aquatic tribe enduring a post apocalyptic world and finding hope by adapting their bodies to survive.

Being influenced by McQueen’s art that day confirmed something I’d hoped for a long time— that all art forms are linked. All art is the story of the subject, the story of the performer, the story of the creator transformed into a piece for us to receive.

When I left the exhibit I had an epiphany about my influences. As long as I can listen to a new song, look at a new painting, try to move to modern dance, take in an imposing building, gawk at an indie runway show— really even just touch a fabric's texture, smell a pungent spice, or hear a stranger’s life as they pass by— I will never run out of ideas for my art.

// David

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TL;DR

3 ways to enlist influences from other disciplines

1. Try all the art. Know that we’re all kin. Especially art that makes you uncomfortable.

2. Work to find the language of other disciplines. Think universals. Think human condition. Think story.

3. Borrow visions from artists in other disciplines and try them out in yours. Copy, Combine, and Transform.

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YOUR VOICE

• ❓Who are 3 artists outside your medium whose work inspires you? Do you integrate them into your process?

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EXTRAS

• ▶️ Video: Links to Alexander McQueen’s Savage Beauty - Gallery Views TOUR 2011 and Plato's Atlantis Runway Show in Paris 2010

• 🔊 ADD SONGS to this “Narrative Songs Playlist” — A Collaborative Playlist on Spotify that you can ADD TO now! I want to collect songs from any music genre that clear narratives, that tell a story that develops in each verse.

MY VISIONS

Artists need to see our influences. We copy, combine, and transform all our influences into a mosaic to produce our own work. We integrate these influences over time into our own craft and our own visions. This is how we find our voice. It’s the occult science, the blessed mess, the damned miracle of art.

First and foremost, we are influenced by our lives. Our traumas and triumphs— the moments, images, words, or feelings, from our lives that made a difference in who we are. You’re an artist because you have a desire to mold these into a piece of work. But that step in the process where you want to express a thing but don’t yet know how to— that is when you have a vision.

One of my influences is Paul Thomas Anderson, and his film Magnolia (1999) is always in my list of Top 3 Films. In describing his creative process, P.T. says he “makes lists.” He sorts the list out later, that’s his job as a writer. But first he makes lists of images, lines of dialog, and moments of a story he’d like to tell #Outline. The first image that came to him for Magnolia, the first thing he wrote down on his list, is the last image of the film. A smile, from Claudia, in direct address, after all she’s been through, and all she’s risked, when she's finally found the strength to receive kindness. Before P.T. knew how he’d write the film or direct the film or finance the film— he had this vision. This moment meant something to him. Where it came from in his life, we may never know— but what he expressed to us in Magnolia is his best attempt to tell us.

So while it helps to be influenced by other art in our lives, our creative process relies foremost on our ability to self reflect. Our first influence is our life. And our art depends on an ability to channel our traumas and triumphs into work. There is an artist in all of us. But not all of us are able to reach for it. Some of us lack the experience of introspection and the practice of vulnerability. These can only be gained by sitting with ourselves, discovering the traumas and triumphs, reflecting on them, and somehow finding the courage to show them to the world. This is what Ernest Hemingway meant when he said: “There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.”

My traumas and triumphs are present in all my best work— they are my visions transfigured. My broken home, my broken hearts, my self loathing, my illnesses, my need to protect those around me, my belief in making peace, my empathy for lost children, my awe of the beauty of art and artists in our world. I can only see how critical this is now. On the other side of completing dozens of pieces of work. But how did I do that before I knew how to? How did I get to the end so many times? With time and healing, I found my own courage, asked for help, forgave myself for false starts, borrowed audacity and tools from the artists I admire, and learned that sipping tea in my slippers early in the morning helps me be bold. Because I wanted my visions to become more.

Whether you’re a master or a budding artist, when something feels daring to feel— express it in raw form. #GetItOut privately. This is your vision. It matters. It matters so much. And if you do that enough times, one of these days, maybe one morning, when you’re a little sleepy, the courage will strike you: the courage to build your vision into a palace.

// David

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TL;DR

3 elements to embrace your artistic visions

1. A vision is an instinct to tell the world about your traumas or triumphs, before you know how to.

2. Practicing introspection and vulnerability are the key. This is hard. Ask for help.

3. Express your daring visions in raw form as often as you can. False starts are early drafts of your first drafts.

YOUR VOICE

• ❓How do you take the leap from vision ➡ first draft in your work? 

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EXTRAS

• 🔊 ADD SONGS to this “Narrative Songs Playlist” — A Collaborative Playlist on Spotify that you can ADD TO now! I want to collect songs from any music genre that are very narrative and tell a story that develops in each verse. There’s a few songs in here I love already— but I want to gather all of ours.

WHAT I DO

I rise early to nature sounds.

For 5-15 mins I read Google News, listen to NPR, or watch MSNBC depending on how lonely a morning it is. A break between stories is when I make my move. Because writing is happening, it’s in my calendar app. 

I don’t turn on the lights, my screen will be lit, and I don’t want to wake. I’m still sleepy, sleepy is good. And the dark reminds me of my industrious college all nighters. I was a night owl writer until I was 27, but I write early mornings now. There are a 100 good reasons for this.

I head to my office area in my pajamas. Pajamas are the height of comfort, iydknyk. I slip on my orange slippers as well, no backs. If it’s cold I'll add my sky blue Nike sweater with the stain and the silky pockets. If I have a dry itch I’ll lotion it, if I have a chaff, I’ll powder it— it needs to go away and not return. 

I’ve got my green tea now. Loose green tea from the wise old men in Okinawa who live to 110. I add raw local honey so I can dispense sweet sips as small rewards during my labor. I add a splash of cold from my Brita so it’s drinkable right away. Reward sip.

I fill my water bottle, take my pills. It’s sometimes back and forth to my kitchen, it’s sometimes right on the keyboard— whichever helps me drop in. 

It's early, am I still dreamy? Yes, good, dreamy is good.

I left my desk clean. It’s a clear and open space, nothing in my eye line to tempt me off a sentence. One of my desks is wood, it's warm, it calms me, it welcomes me. My other desk is glass, it’s translucent, it focuses me, it promises clarity. I sit at whichever has the best mojo, where I’ve written better the last 2-3 times. If they’re both cursed, I know three cafes with clean bathrooms in walking distance.

I sit down. 

I have once again taken Oliver Stone’s advice:  “Writing = Ass + Chair”

I set my Pomodoro timer. This first one is special, it’s my #SleepyPomodoro, it’s magic. If I could bottle it I would. Try to bottle it.

Do not disturb on my laptop, dark mode, blue light off-- I wanna stay asleep. I use hot keys so I don’t even have to mouse. Two coasters, water bottle behind, tea closest. Reward sip. 

Eat? It’s too fuckin’ early to eat. By design. 

Am I still foggy? Yes. Foggy is good. Easy to make decisions and self doubt remains at a distance.

Most times I’ve left myself where the very next step is clear. You learn never to leave yourself in a bad place. A gift from yesterday’s self. Reward.

I Write. 

I start with a coy edit about half the page up from where I left off. This is a ruse. I only tinker with it for confidence. But very soon I #WriteForward. Nothing, nothing good ever came from going backwards during a first draft. 

At some point it dawns on me that I can add music to my life, my oldest emotional support animal. For writing, nothing with lyrics-- it's Crescendo Film Scores for inspiration or The Calmest Beats for a steady push.

In 25 minutes the Sleepy Pomodoro goes off— if there’s any magic left— fuck it, I keep going. But when that magic is gone, and I’m fully awake, whether it’s been 30 minutes or 90 minutes I stop the first push.

I take in the world around me. Blinders off.

I’ve only just woken up. And I’ve already written today.

// David

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Tl;dr 

My ritual changes a little when I edit film, when I sketch, when I design in Unity,  when I direct a play— but there are always 3 elements.

Three Elements of a Creative Ritual

1. Comfort - Build comfort in your work location, make it an uncluttered, open, positive space, with drink, sweets, charms, inspirational sayings, spirituality, good juju. Surround yourself with these reminders of past success.

2. Starting - Schedule creative time and protect it, set a clear moment when you start, have a #PlanOfAttack to know where to pick up from your last session with ease.

3. Finishing - Know how to call it a day, a way to be satisfied, a way to quantify your labor so you can celebrate it, and a way to surrender to the process— not the output of your process.

#GuardYourSpaceTime
#PlanOfAttack
#CelebrateTheProcess

EXTRAS

• 💡 IYDKNYK defined.

• 🛠 Pomodoro technique, explained. I write for a time goal and fit those into larger deadlines. When my writing muscle is strong, a good writing day for me is 4.5 hours with meals during the long breaks. I push 3 x 3 Pomodoros (25m + 5m break, 25m + 5m break, 25m + 30m break).

• 🔈Playlists: Crescendo Film Scores & The Calmest Beats

• ▶️ Video: Link to last week’s Seth Godin & Steven Pressfield Talk (30m) Two creatives who think deeply about process cover several great topics in between waxing each other’s cars.

• /NOW Check out what I’m doing now: http://davidnegrin.com/now

YOUR VOICE

Before you write, paint, dance, act, design, sculpt, illustrate, photograph, code, are creative— what do you do?

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WHAT I KNOW

No one just knows how to be an artist.

So how do you formulate a plan for a creative endeavor of which you are not yet a master? How do you know your theme before you write your story? How do you know your destiny before you explore the world?— Not possible, can’t do it. But if you can be aware of this paradox, you can push off feelings of paralysis and get strategic.

We work by copying, transforming, and combining what we see from other artists and what we feel inside. We study and employ the craft of our medium. We labor. We identify and then express a vision. We labor further. But this labor is non-linear, it’s chaotic, it’s abstract, it can be lonely, it can be desperate, it can be painful. Though if we are lucky, we will complete a piece of work.

But why don’t we spend more time reconciling and analyzing how we work on our art? In between our work. This other thing. Separate from the work. Our creative process. 

We need to think more about why some projects take longer and others come quickly. We need to think deeper about how the work we abandon is different from the work we complete. We have the chance to develop and refine our creative process each time we attempt a work, large or small. Thinking about creative process is always generative. Even a work that feels like a failure can improve our process. 

A good creative process should move us forward, allow us to pick up where we left off, and to finish. If we can be aware of our creative process, then we can sense what steps are not working for us and let those go. We can try new steps and notice how they fortify us. We can make our future labor more efficient, repeatable, authentic, and our inspiration more available. 

We take our creative process into our next project, whether we like it or not. In fact, we take our creative process into every endeavor in life that’s non-linear, chaotic, abstract, lonely, desperate or painful. 

You have a process for that. You should be in touch with it.

When I collaborate, coach, and teach artists, this is how I ask if their creative process is going well: 

Are you working? Are you finishing? Are you happy?

Strategic will lay out a series of creative process case studies to spark a conversation. I want to discuss with you how we can create more often, how we can finish sooner, and how we can be happier as creatives. And I’m happy to ha

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ve your voice.

// David

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David Negrin is a Professor, Screenwriter, Game Designer, VR Creator, Arts Non-Profit Founder, and Host of #TheScriptPodcast.

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