by Matthew May
We've all heard the
cliches: "If you're going to do something, do it right," and "If
you want something done right, do it yourself." Change one word --
"right" to "artfully" -- and the view of work as art is not
the far reach it may appear to be.
But allow me to state
my case more, er, artfully.
Like art, work can
pull every feeling from our emotional palette – it can move us, confuse us,
inspire us, frustrate us, and change us. It can give us joy, or bring us to
tears. Regardless of whether our work is presiding or parenting, we spend more
waking time than not in our work, and it is through our work that we can employ
our creative sense and enrich our lives fully.
Work remains our best
chance to be artful – our best opportunity to be fully involved in an activity
that expresses who we are, to call forth our creative spirit. If we let it,
work can be a wonderfully rewarding experience of challenge and curiosity in
which we discover daily new depths of our identity and imagination.
The "art" is
in the individual details and everyday doings of whatever work we perform, and
is revealed through our ability to put our fingerprints on it in our own
original way.
Work is, in the end, a
license to create. But the license is not one granted freely. It is one we must
claim for ourselves.
And like art, to be
engaging and moving, for ourselves and for others, our work must have the basic
characteristics of good design.
Our work must have form – depth
and dimension – to avoid the fatal flatness that ruins our attempt at creative
expression. Without form, we may not have a clear idea of the real worth of
what we do.
Our work must also have contrasting tones and shades of color – vitality and passion – to avoid the drab
weariness that can dampen the full impact of what we hope to achieve. Without
color, we may not experience the positive emotions that lift our spirits and
inspire our performance.
Our work must have composition –
balance and proportion – to avoid overpowering and impinging on the other
domains of our life. Without composition, we may miss some of the most
profoundly rewarding moments of life.
Our must have perspective –
focus and direction – to avoid losing sight of a clear horizon line. Without
perspective, we may wander down blind alleys, unable to see the bigger picture.
Finally, our work must have a frame –
alignment and boundary – to provide the necessary line between reality and
imagination. Without the proper frame, we may lose touch with what is
realistically possible, given our talents and intents.
Anyone who has ever
arranged flowers in a vase, decorated a Christmas tree, wrestled with a
stubborn hairdo, or fretted over the perfect wardrobe ensemble for a special
occasion, knows something of the creative struggle to get these qualities just
right. A splash of red here, more tinsel there, an extra coiffure for good
measure…the process is one of feeling our way to the perfect proportions –
adding and adjusting, mixing and matching, tinkering and tailoring, then
standing back to look at the overall effect before diving in again to make
things just so.
My point: We don’t
have to paint, sketch, sculpt or compose – or even dream of one day doing so –
to face the kinds of problems that define the artist’s life!
I believe that all of
these essentials can be realized to some degree in any occupation – the
artistic magic is in the uniquely personal harmony achieved. Attempting to
formulate laws to apply to the mix misses the point, and doing so may cause us
to lose the essence of what makes us different and interesting. Historically,
many have tried and failed to decode such fixed rules by studying the styles of
the great masters, even as those masters managed to defy the code and create
something never before imagined.
And, we can’t always
come at these facets directly and expect things to change overnight. Getting
them into the right blend rests upon principles that run far deeper than the
visible components, more toward the bedrock of our identities. It is not the
practices, techniques or recipes that hold the key, but the underlying personal
process.
If I know anything,
it's this: Launching a dramatic assault on ourselves in an attempt to surface
our underlying creative spirit will only make us grip tighter to old patterns –
it’s our human defensive response to abrupt shifts in our equilibrium, even if
they are self-inflicted.
The simple truth is
that most of us cringe at the thought of change. At the heart of every failed
attempt at a radical makeover is this conundrum, the repeating lesson learned
being that sustainable personal renaissance is usually only successful through
more inward-looking means.
Still, to begin
thinking about our work figuratively in these artistic terms is to launch the
journey toward creative excellence, for they are the goal and endgame, and
without any one of them in good measure, individual artistry will remain
elusive.
If these, then, are
the collective caliber by which our work might be considered art, the focus must
now shift to the pathways that take us there.
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