Life IS Art.

I'm starting to feel funny about blogging, because most of the entries I've written discuss art projects I intend to start, emphasis on "intend." Months later, they're projects I STILL have yet to start, haha! My apologies for preaching daily creativity and then not doing it myself...

However, in similar vein with my last entry, I think I've been overlooking life, not paying enough attention to the everyday. Perhaps I should be saying to myself, "You are the artist! You are the master craftsman, shaping your existence from the cradle to the grave. You wield the tools, dream the dreams, see the visions, draw the plans, take the time and do the work in everything you say, and think every moment of the day. As a sculptor takes his raw materials and begins to realize his ideal, as a painter takes his brush and gives form to his creative idea, so in total life you are the artist" (Church of Perfect Liberty website). Perhaps all my life, each of my days, every hour is a work of art? I'd like to think so. For as Anais Nin says, "We don't see things as they are. We see things as we are." I'll admit that I've been wrapped up in me lately, too cloudy-visioned to see that everyday is a stroll in the museum...

And so from here on out, I'm gonna focus. I'm gonna see my pink lemonade, the black straw swirling, rearranging the bubbles on the sides of the tall glass; I'm gonna pay attention to how I make my morning latte--tablespoon after tablespoon of black, finely-ground espresso--the smokey, earthy smell of it--hot water, a large, chunky mug filled 3/4 with espresso and 1/4 milk, creating a creamy, caramel-colored concoction; I'm going to meticulously arrange the food on my plate, each color and texture taking its place in the spotlight (sorry for all the food examples, haha). The point is, I'm gonna see the art in everything that I do, because it's a fact that it's there...I just have to see it. The way my stack of completed work grows over the course of the day, how a lighter stack lies in the bin versus how a heavier stack lies. How the murmur of voices travels overtop of my cubicle walls, merging into one mish-mashed conversation--Cough. / What's the part number? / Let me get you transferred to Roadside. / Don't be calling me up to pay. / Cough. / HAHAHA! / Claims, this is Darrell. How the mirror in my cubicle vibrates when people walk by, shimmering their reflections. The sterile and vacant office breakroom with a microwavable meal at lunch? That'll take some effort on my part, but I'll find the art there, too :) And maybe, just maybe, I'll draw a picture, write a sweet little message, and leave it in a surprise location for A to find. Because life itself is an art project, and I've not been living artistically...

P.S. I can't help myself. Someone on the phone today asked me this random question. It caught me off guard and I didn't know how to answer. But I'm thinking our answers could tell us a lot about ourselves, so here goes: If you won the lottery, what would you do?

My answer: 1. I'd put enough of it in savings to stop working for awhile so that I could focus on actually LIVING. 2. I'd pay off any of mine or my family's loans/outstanding debt (A's med school bills, haha) so that they, too, could focus on just LIVING. 3. I'd donate some money to a local charity/cause so that they could spend more time LIVING instead of fundraising. 4. And, last but not least, I'd travel like I've never traveled before (with tons of family in stow), hitting every continent, and writing a book about our experiences :) LOVING & LIVING AT ITS BEST!

Please post your answer as a comment...

*image from http://www.ilovecoffeebook.com/images/CoffeeART2.jpg

"Who We Are Has Brought Us Here"

I apologize for the tangential entries lately (this one included)...I've been hashing out my personal quandaries instead of exercising daily creativity. Granted, as I'm aplogizing, I'm realizing that life is art's inspiration, so perhaps my "issues" are actually fertile ground? Let's think half-full thoughts on that subject, shall we?

Either way, I'll hurry up and spill what's going on in my life so that we can get back to discussing the whimsies and fancies of ART. So, I have this friend C who I've been friends with since third grade. We've been friends for over 15 years! Though we went to separate high schools and separate colleges, we managed to maintain our friendship via phone calls, e-mails, and occasional hang-outs when both of us were home visiting family. We rocked our "long-distance friendship," I tell you what. And I cherished C for his constancy--he was always there. But 2 years ago, something changed between us. It all started when I decided to go to grad school where C was finishing up his last year of undergrad. I hadn't found a place to live yet and bided my time by shacking up in his living room for a month or so. Long story short, we grew closer (and how could you not in such close quarters?). Outside of class, we were doing everything together--eating meals, partying, hiking, shopping for groceries, going to the gym...But before I could process the dynamic shift in our relationship for myself, his mother took me aside at a dinner party and told me that her son cared deeply about me, loved me even, but was too shy and too scared to tell me himself (which I'm sure I responded to with my best shock face). It was that moment right there where everything changed; I see it now. It not only forced me to acknowledge C's changed feelings for me, but it forced me to make sense of my feelings for C.

But these forced revelations were uninvited, not on my own time, and so the flavor of C's and my situation unintentionally changed. I suddenly felt awkward around C, not sure what to think of these alleged feelings he had for me and his sharing them with his mother. As far as C knew, I was still in the dark. I moved out of his apartment and into my own place. Days went by and he went about things in the same old way, except that I couldn't help obsessing over the fact that he wasn't telling me how he felt. I needed to hear it from him, I needed him to show me, because if he didn't, this gray-zone between friendship and "something else" was gonna wear on me.

Which eventually it did. I started to see C as his old self again, as my long-time friend. I put aside what his mother told me, forgot the details of it even, and focused on what C told me, how he behaved towards me. And we fell back into a friendship.

Which is about the time I met A, my now-fiance :) C had just graduated from undergrad and was traveling around South America, when I suddenly found myself with little to do and no friends to do it with. But A picked up the slack nicely, and as we spent more time together, well...we fell in love--BIG TIME. And a year and half later, we got engaged! I'm the happiest and most fulfilled I've been in my entire life, and all I've wanted is to share my happiness with my long-time friend C. But I haven't seen C for 7 months since I told him my news. 7 months it's taken for me to realize that I'm out. No longer am I in C's field of vision, field of thought, or field of interest. I'm straight up not on his radar anymore. I don't even think we're friends...or at least that's what I make of his deliberate absence in my life. And I'm heartbroken over it. I remember all the years we spent--15 years!--making an effort to stay in each other's lives! And then poof! No more.

But you know what? Despite being sad, sad, sad about losing C as a friend, I can't help admitting that I've lost friends before. C's not the first, and, unfortunately, he's probably not the last. People change and they don't always change together. Sometimes they become different people with different interests, traveling different life paths, and sometimes friends become strangers. This morning, too, reminded me of a life-proven fact: things happen for a reason. As I was driving to work, the words--"who we are has brought us here"--floated out of the radio. I thought to myself, Exactly. I can't blame C for being himself and going his own way, and I can't blame myself, either, for being who I am. I've certainly gone an unexpected path! 2 years ago, I would never have guessed that I'd be getting married! Thinking about the turns we've both taken, it's actually a surprise that we stayed friends for so long, so I should be grateful for our 15 years. I should be able to take a deep breath, turn around, and with a settled heart, continue on my way. Though I don't want to let him walk out of my life, I will, because friends support each other in their life's journeys, they support each other's decisions. I'll let C go because "who we are has brought us here," and I can't regret how far we've come...

*image from http://huisienangel.blogspot.com/2008_08_01_archive.html

Who am I now? Who am I now? Who am I now?

I hate to use the slippery word "identity," but essentially that's what I want to talk about. In the past week, the concept of "identity" has come up a lot in my life. First, in my friend G's blog: "We have identities based on contraction. The basic premise behind this is how we come to a point of self actualization in our lives, and are curious about why/how it comes when it comes. We see ourselves as changing beings and don't understand how we got here...In this process as well, there is an opportunity to reflect on our life before, and how we have shed this old skin and have grown a beautiful and different new layer..." And second, in the book I'm reading, Await Your Reply by Dan Chaon: "Whatever his secret was, I have learnt one secret too, and namely: that the soul is but a manner of being--not a constant state--that any soul may be yours, if you find and follow its undulations. The hereafter may be the full ability of consciously living in any chosen soul, in any number of souls, all of them unconscious of their interchangeable burden.--Vladimir Nabokov, The Real Life of Sebastian Knight;" and again: "I can't understand how people can settle for having just one life. I remember we were in English class and we were talking about that poem by--that one guy. David Frost. 'Two roads diverged in a yellow wood--' You know this poem, right?...I loved that poem. But I remember thinking to myself: Why? How come you can't travel both? That seemed really unfair to me."

I'm sure these quotes stood out to me because I'm currently going through an identity contraction. And I know exactly why I am. In less than 3 months, I'll be married. I will literally be shedding "old me" ("Mathews," my last name that I've had for a quarter-century and all the memories that are associated with it) so that I may become "new me" (donning my husband's last name "Ware" for the remaining 3 quarters of my life (God willing I live that long)). Off with the Mathews and on with the Ware! It sounds like a simple issue of semantics, you say. Except that I've been catching myself in the mirror lately and have had to stop in my tracks. Who are you? Me asks. You-From-2-Years-Ago would like to know where You-Now came from. And I find myself wondering exactly what G wonders in her blog: How did I get here? I have a full-time job, a house, and I'm getting married in December! How the hell did I grow up so fast? More importantly, how did "old me" come into so many blessings? And hold onto them? The fact of the matter is, there's a ton of evidence stacked against me...after a few years, I've changed. As Chaon quotes Nabokov, I've found a new soul to follow. And yet, you know what? I'm not convinced that this "moment of self actualization," as G calls it, isn't just one looooong moment, one continuous undulation that started the day I was born. While I was "Erin Mathews" for 25 years of my life, and though I'll officially be "Erin Ware" on December 19th, I'm thinking that I've been undulating "Erin Mathews + Ware" my whole life maybe, who knows. So, I'm not shedding anything; I'm simply putting on another layer. Though I'll be retiring the name Erin Mathews in less than 3 months, I won't just be Erin Ware; I'll be both...sort of. And so, in some haphazard and over-my-head way, it seems I've found a way to travel BOTH paths, Mr. Richard Frost. Yeah-hmm.

*image from mosaicmama.com

Career Choices

This topic is slightly off-theme, but it deserves due attention--my job. See, I recently graduated with my Masters degree in creative writing. I know what you're thinking...That's a subject you can MASTER? Yes, haha. Wishing you would've known that a couple years ago, huh? Anywho, I went to 2 more years of school for the subject, willing to put in the time to get better at it; I wanted to enter my field upon graduation and be 100% fit for a writing job.

Well, here I am 6 months later, working as a Claims Payment Assistant at an extended warranty company (my dad's company), reviewing faxed repair orders and calling cashiers at dealerships with credit card payments. Furthest thing from creative writing, I know. I'll be honest, for a while (up until this past month), I was kind of upset with myself, disappointed even, for putting all that time and hard work into writing and then taking "the spoon-fed job" the minute I graduated. While I was only hired on as "a temporary worker" (so that everyone in the office, including myself, would understand that I wasn't sticking around), I tossed that phrase around a lot, thinking, speaking, and acting like I was better than the job and couldn't wait to leave, like I belonged somewhere else--"the writing world." I even went so far as to apply for a job at a publishing company and show up to the interview. But you know what I realized this month? I realized that I don't owe myself, or anyone else, anything. Yes, I love to creatively write and yes, I would love to eventually wind up in "the writing world," but I'm not sorry for being where I am NOW. I am not defined by my job and the work I do. Just because I pay claims all day doesn't mean I don't write. It just means writing is not my job. And just because I have a degree in creative writing doesn't mean I owe it to my degree to be in that field. I don't owe anything to anyone. What's crazy is that the minute I realized this, I realized that I am completely happy at my job. (Get rid of your assumptions and suddenly everything's plain as day...God bless that Buddha man and his late-breaking lessons). I realized that I love the people I work with, I love the people I talk to on the phone every day, and yes, I sometimes love the monotony of checking and double-checking work orders. Most importantly, I get to see my dad and my brother nearly every day. Already I feel like my brother and I are on some new level of friendship we've not been on before. Would we have grown this close had I gotten a job with a publishing company? Of course not! I know not. And that fact alone washes away the regrets.

In retrospect, I can see that I was caught up in the idea that writing IS me, that I AM writing. And because I thought that, I also thought that any job outside of writing was a farce, below me, a waste of time. The thing is, it's actually kind of true that I AM writing: I love to write, I need to write, I consider writing an act of ME-ness. However, the statement that I AM writing is also half false, because that's not ALL I am, and I don't HAVE to be writing to be me. No matter what my 9 to 5 is, I will always be "a writer." What matters is that my 9 to 5 makes me happy. And it does. It really does. I'm just sorry that my thoughts about what I should've, could've, would've done clouded me from seeing it for so long...

I'll end with a crazy coincidence:
While I don't necessarily "believe" my daily horoscope, there are days when I "whoa" after reading it. Today's a fine example: "You have been debating with yourself about whether or not you should go forward and deepen an existing commitment or create a new one. Although you may consider making a clean break, your logical approach allows you to see multiple outcomes to your dilemma. Entertain as many options as you can before choosing one." Like I said--whoa. Dead on.

Honeymooners Collaborate?

So, my fiance A and I are getting married this December and are going to Napa Valley for our honeymoon (Wine Wonderland, I know). And we may or may not have discussed a certain "art project" we'd like to undertake there. A PROJECT? How UNromantic, you say. Yes, well, we're nerds. What did you expect? Besides, this project won't take ALL DAY ;). And anyway, it's a pretty fantastic idea, as you'll read below, SO fantastic that I thought to share it (and perhaps urge some more collaborative projects among you budding artists out there? Hells yes)!

So here's the plan:
Because A is a naturally talented photographer and because I sometimes treat myself to the title of "creative writer," we are going to join forces and imaginatively document our travels! The idea is that A (or myself, too, I suppose...though I apologize in advance for my lack of "the eye") will take photos of the wintered vineyards, say, or the glass of red wine in my wedding-ringed hand, or our disheveled bed in the morning sunlight ;) (the photographic possibilities are endless really...), which will hopefully inspire A and I to write something regarding the picture, brought to mind by the picture, you get the idea. Then, with the photos and "creative blurbs" we've written, we're going to create a little diddy we like to call a "picto-journal-coffee-table-masterpiece." Just kidding, we don't have a name for the project yet (and we could do better than THAT! Psh! Er...feel free to pass along any title ideas you have). So yeah, there ya have it. What do you think? I know, I know, I know, you're worried it might turn into some lovely-dovey diary/photo album... Well, worry no more, because we intend to create a piece of artwork. And with all the love and admiration we've already got going between the two of us, a sexy, awe-inspiring landscape + bottles and bottles of deliciously guzzle-able wine HAS to equal a precious AND beautiful end product. Cant' wait...

Project in Process: Art in the Workplace

So, I may or may not have done a silly thing last week (and yet, as I'm writing this, I'm telling myself it was brilliant... or WILL be soon enough). See, I work in a corporate office, and while there's nothing "wrong," per se, with this corporate office, I've noticed "a lack" of sorts. A lack of what? you ask. Inspiring surroundings perhaps? Creative energy flow? Chi? Yes, ALL of that is what's lacking. Every weekday for the past 4 months, I walk into the office and feel sterile. For cleanliness' sake, that's a good thing, but for creative's sake, it's not. All I want to do is cut out a paper heart and tape it to a doorknob, color outside the lines of a coloring book page and put it on the break room's refrigerator, string ribbons across my cubicle like a tent. Seriously, I have the urge to tamper with the office space every minute I'm there.

Hence, my eventual breakdown. Last Thursday, as I was reading my daily quote for the day (which happened to come from Buddha--"You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection."), I was immediately inspired to spread the message by taping it up on the office's back door (which leads directly to the bathrooms, and so is frequently used).

Now, you'll remember that in my first blog I talked about how public art requires responsibility. Well, before I taped up the quote, I thought long and hard about whether or not its Buddhist nature was appropriate in the work place. I didn't want people thinking that some anonymous person in the office was trying to force his/her religious ideals on them. I wanted to make darn sure that I wouldn't offend anyone. In the end, I came to the conclusion that my coworkers are adults, that they're capable of reading past the sayer to the saying itself, and that the quote's purpose is to leave one with a message about self-love, not religious ideals. So, I put it up...secretly (even though I believe in the power of public art, I'm not down with publicizing ME. Public art's not about the artist, it's about the cause). And then I waited. Waited for what? you ask, you curious reader, you. Well, I waited for a reaction. I listened for the door opening and closing, listened for thoughts mumbled under the breath. Nothing. Until today, 4 days later. This morning, making my morning trip to the restroom, I saw it. Underneath the quote was a hand-scrawled "I love ME" which was further altered by another hand to read "I love MEat loaf." Hmm. Not what I was expecting. And yet...harmless. Funny even. I think the quote maybe sort of kinda might've been a success? It certainly caught people's attention. And it moved them to write their own messages, too! Suddenly, I'm totally excited about coming to work and the prospect of "re-CREATE-ing the office." While this pet project of mine has only just begun, the Buddha quote just the FIRST step in the right direction, I tell you what...I'm determined to make this space into what it should be...inspirational, creative, uplifting. We spend most of our time here, don't we? We deserve it.

P.S. I think my next efforts will be put towards having an "art show" every month or so where workers bring in their own art and showcase it in the lunch room. Or maybe even hand out coloring book pages, have everybody color them their own way, and then showcase the pictures on the outside walls of our cubicles. And if people really aren't feeling the "self-made art" thing, we could always try to bring in our favorite pieces of art and showcase THEM somehow. We'll see...this really is just "The Beginning..."

*UPDATE* As of this morning, Friday, September 11th, the "I love MEat loaf" message was altered by someone who wrote underneath it, "The singer?" Also, there is now a Meatloaf quote taped directly beneath the aforementioned Buddha quote that reads, "I would do anything for love, but I won't do that. No, I won't do that," PLUS a recipe for meat loaf attached. HAHAHAHA! Look what public art can inspire! I'm finding this whole affair completely ridiculous and hilarious...already I'm loving this office. Keep it up, people!

Project #1: Mini Version of 1000 Journals Project

(image from http://thegardenofpinkshadows.typepad.com )

Let's begin here:
http://www.1000journals.com/index.php?view=About%2FIndex

Ever since middle school, I've wanted to journal. "That was more than 10 years ago, Erin. Why don't you get to it already?" you might ask. Well, because I've tried and tried and tried again, and I never stick with it. For me, there's an obligatory feeling I get when I sit down to write in a journal, as if I'm supposed to be writing in it, as if I owe it to the journal to write in it. Needless to say, it's not an inspiring feeling. And yet I still crave a journal. So what gives? My assumptions about journal-writing! I have this pre-conceived idea that writing in a journal is a daily activity (and a multi-hour, whenever-I-have-a-free-moment-I-should-be-scribbling kind of activity at that). I also thought journal entries HAD TO BE deep and introspective and revelatory (notice the emphasis on HAD TO BE, as we are all aware they CAN be). So basically I thought journal-writing meant that I had to havea powerful, self-reflective entry EVERYDAY. No wonder I quit and quit again! Such pressure! And so I researched various journaling methods, knowing, believing, that there was another way for ME to JOURNAL! I found it...

A journal that is not exactly my own (in that I am not the only one who's obliged to write/draw/color/paste entries into it), but rather a group journal, one in which the writers are many and the entries various. As the 1000 Journals Project website says, "The goal is to provide a method for interaction and shared creativity among friends and strangers." Exactly! Not only me but MY FRIENDS, too, must add something to the journal: "a story, drawing, photograph, anything really. Then we pass the journal along...and the adventure continues." Now that's inspiring, isn't it?! Well, for me it is. And really, that's the point of this entry. So right now, I'm going to go out and buy myself that journal I've always wanted, and with the help of a few friends, I'm going to finish it! It's going to be so beautiful...you're welcome, world.

If you want to take part in this creative group art project, let me know and I'll get the work of art in your hot little hands.

Semi-related parting thought: "You can use your life in a very useful and intelligent way. You can very well transform that negative energy into a positive energy that empowers you and makes life meaningful." –Thich Nhat Hanh