I got some really amazing and thoughtful responses. So much so that this is going to be part of the format for Thinking Out Loud now.
And so much so that I really wanted to share the responses. And so despite break all the blog post length laws (I thought the internet was good because we had no word counts) - many of the responses are below. I haven't edited them (except to take out personal corrispondence, since I am fond of them as emails, sent at various times in various conditions.
Clicking on the persons name will take you to their response. Clicking on "top" will bring you here.
The question, Claudia Fancello, Sasha Kovacs, Tasha Auls, Cathy Gordon. Stacy Hannah, Evan Webber, Megan Andrews, Alex McLean, George Stamos, Josh Thorpe, Ian MacKenzie, Claire Pfeiffer
A question for you about making stuff
I have a question (it might be more than one):
When you make something (whatever you make) - are you thinking out something that impacts other aspects of your life?
or another way, are you using that activity to work on personal, social, political or other understandings of the world?
and when you are seeing or using something someone else has made, do you think about what they might have been working on or thinking about when they made it?
All of this is because we've been doing these pre-show conversations called Thinking Out Loud before the first Friday performance at Dancemakers (which means one is coming tomorrow at 7. And by tomorrow I mean Friday October 24th.)
And Tony Chong and I have been talking about the relationship between what we do (which happens to be making performances) and what we think about on a day to day basis. We talked about the many forms that can take and also about the times where it's not so clearly true.
And while it is a question that can get very big or seem too easy, I'm really curious about the very practical, day-to-day manifestations of the relationship what we think about and what we make.
Also I would love to hear also from people who work in other fields and produce things that maybe don't make "art" but make other interesting and important things.
thanks very much
jacob
Claudia Fancello – Public Recordings | PME-Art
hi Jacob
just in the thick of a new creation
one thing i have been thinking about is how my perspective changes so drastically during creation.
how life seems to make more sense (maybe that`s why i am so addicted to the creative process)
all is perceived differently
i walk down the street and notice interractions that i would might not notice
for instance, coming out of ame`s last little process with all that interviewing, i seemed to notice everytime i asked someone a question. what kind of information was i interested in receiving
the power dynamics between asking questions and answering them
at the moment with pme, we are deep in discussion on individualism vs. collectivity
i look for stories, theories everywhere
pick up inspiration from small conversations with my coffee guy, with friends, what i read, what i listen to.
connectivity to the practice and the everyday is what i live for.
big ups to you, signor
will be seeing you sooner than later
c
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Sasha Kovacs
When you make something? Are you thinking out something that impacts other parts of your life?
It’s mostly a process that includes f thinking about my family, and thinking about how language plays such a vital role within that unit. I went back to school to do my master’s this year to make new thoughts. To try to make, or perhaps more accurately ‘propose’ more ideas; To try to talk back to those ideas more, and also collide with ideas in a room. And I think that process of ‘making’- and specifically the venue for my making (the university) has been influenced by a desire to legitimize my inability to effectively communicate within the language of the people I love, and to propose some sort of alternative.
My father speaks 4 languages and a very broken English. I speak just English. I think when I make things I contemplate this anxiety. My inability to communicate with my father extends into what I write about, what I continue to be interested in- translation. So more and more perhaps what I make, all of my writing, speaks to a desire to think about the impact that my limited knowledge of language has in communication with the people who are most important to me. And I guess I think about that because as a first generation Canadian who attended an education system that very effectively assimilated me into anglo-white Canadian culture, I have never been able to communicate with my own father in a language he understands. And it has always affected our relationship. And it makes me think about blood, and if words have the power to beat it. And if in fact they do, if we ought to treat them with more rigorous attention.
And I guess this very thing explains why I want to make theatre. Because more and more it seems that something more comprehensible- something more ‘universal’(that’s not right but I can’t find the alternative word) lives in the body- can’t exist just on the paper or in casual conversation- but has to happen alive in motion, and depends on the knowledge of someone else being there. So when I make words, when I construct sentences, when I talk about ideas, lately more and more I want to have the time to develop and translate them into more physical phrases. That’s why increasingly what I make, what I want to make, has to do with the body- because that is something that maybe my father can understand. Because don’t we all seem to have an acute kinesthetic sense? And as I write this on his 77th birthday I feel an immediacy- I’d like for him to understand what I do.
And that insistence on the body as a site for clarity in understanding, in communicating, relates to sport- to what I teach people to make in golf. For a long time I played competitive golf as a child and teen. I finally picked up my own sticks again this summer after a 5 year hiatus. I considered 4 hours of walking in solitude to intensely contemplate form an immense opportunity. I stopped teaching, and just wanted to play again. As a young adult, I read a lot about golf in an attempt to really master it. When I play now, I have internalized that form so much so that I can finally focus on the target. I never think about the ball, I only focus on where it is going. So surprisingly, it finally goes there. There is a freedom in the development of that perspective that has greatly affected my performance in this sport, so much so that my handicap has never been lower. I remember times when directing or performing that this very same maturity (I think I’ll call it that) reared its head. It’s not about hitting the ball, it’s about sending it somewhere else. What or who that target is, I think for theatre artists, is really up to negotiation- I’d like to think it’s the audience, but it might be an idea, an image, a politic; really so many things, I think, that are equally legitimate. No, important.
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Tasha Auls – Her webiste
These are good and interesting questions.
Yes - what i make always impacts other aspects of my life - and vice versa. Mostly this has to do with how making things requires you to think about things in a different way so that you can make the damn thing that keeps eluding you in the first place.
Making is both the compass giving direction -straight into the unknown hinterland of the meeting place where imagination meets the material world.
(As you can see, i am a romantic at heart.)
The problem with making things is that it feels so selfish - in my case, the things i make, paintings - have so small an impact. They reach so few people, and even when they are seen they may not "do" very much.
I am currently painting portraits. Of my collegues, who graciously come for a tea and a sit down in my studio. This is in the time they are there - about relationships -between myself and the model. But when I work on the painting when they are no longer present - the work and the making of the work moves of into a different set of relationship between myself, paint, and thinking about images that have had an impact on me.
The spending time together in painting - we are engaging in a slightly different way then in the other times of our lives. It feels like a special timeless time together. I think that the model may get something out of this as much as I do, so perhaps here i have finally found a way to make art while really taking someone else into consideration.
Sadly, I do not often think of what other people were thinking of when they made the things/tools that i use in every day life.
But I do get curious about what motivated the people i know to make what they make (or why they choose not to make), and i do get very exited and curious about people who make things that are especially innovative, or delicious to eat, or when people
And I am curious: What happens when you start thinking of those unknown and faceless people who have made every single thing that you use on a day to day basis. Would you feel gratitude, a kind of empathy, would you feel guilty about the life you live based on other people making things in shitty conditions for even shittier pay?
Would you take care of that thing better - out of respect for the maker?
Would you need to buy less and have the urge to make more?
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Cathy Gordon – her website
When you make something (whatever you make) - are you thinking out something that impacts other aspects of your life?
Yes and no. "Thinking out" implies a mental starting point when in my case, most of what I make begins from an intuitive place -- a place that indeed wants to impact other aspect of my life for the better. Our bodies know better than our minds how to heal - or to use another term - return to a complete state.
And yes, I use art as one my tools for personal growth which I believe is an ongoing process throughout our lives. Another word for "personal growth" is transformation. And I think that good art includes transformation. And in return the sharing of this transformation -- or the witnessing of transformation -- is many times itself transforming -- be it the first time I saw a caterpillar become a butterfly or I saw Danny Darko.
And in the most basic simple terms - my healing is my real way of healing the world. As I am able to deal more and more with the issues of my sister's suicide, I know I will have more and more energy to help others deal with the same kinds of things. This happens all the time. Some loses a leg or loses a loved one and then they suddenly have more energy than ever before in their lives to give back.
or another way, are you using that activity to work on personal, social, political or other understandings of the world?
yes.
it is an old writing saying that "the more personal you get, the more universal the story becomes" -- and that has been my own experience.
when I am not honest about my own relationship to the work, then that work is going to suffer. something can be 100% fluff but still great as long as I am honest with myself and the audience about it. I mean, fluff some pretty deep issues can addressed -- & I could use Cute With Chris as an example of that.
Since everything we do has political implications it is up to us whether or not we want to delve deeper into that aspect or not. As long as the motivation is clear to yourself (myself) and it is true to what I need to do or say then the message will be heard. But, personally, if I try to "be political" or have a "political agenda" that won't work. It will come across as contrived since politics is not my true passion. When I put the things that matter to me first then the implicit political nature becomes clear without any effort on my part to make it obvious (e.g. the crawl)
and when you are seeing or using something someone else has made, do you think about what they might have been working on or thinking about when they made it?
yes
context and motivation are essential components to understanding
let's use the documentary Sharkwater for example. Many elements of that doc are really hoaky. He does not have a very good narrative voice. However -- his motivation for doing that work is 100% sincere + the context is very real = the planet is dying, if we kill all the sharks, the oceans will be fucked and we will die.... it makes the doc a lot more compelling than if this happened 50 years ago & Jacques Costeau said the exact same thing -- only then, we didn't understand that the planet was really dying under our feet.
When I see visual art, it is usually very helpful to to have context & motivation.
For example, at MOCCA - the mural outside is from the CONTACT photo exhibition
(the original photo was inside). The photo has immediate drama because it's of a factory being demolished... there is the tension created by the crowd watching.. who are they? oh, they are past employees... oh this man has a Kodak shirt on... oh this is a digital photograph of the demise of Kodac film made obsolete by digital film which is now recording this particular moment in photography history. At first glance I only see the surface drama but something within that compels me to look closer to discover the context and motivation -- at which point the narrative is revealed. I become transformed. Before then, I never thought or felt too much about the machinations of photography - only the subjects within the photos -- but now, when the subject is about industry itself, it becomes symbolic of something even more grand then that. I am now aware on visceral level that industries are dying as we as a society transform into something else... something has to die for something else to live... in ourselves, in our world.
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Stacy Hannah
Good question(s).
Always.
When I make things it isn't currently for public consumption. But what I am aware of, is the curiosity I have is what shapes my understanding of myself. This forms my world, and to a larger extent, what I am comfortable putting in it - from private to public.
I do weird things that satisfy my own love of making small worlds. And if the idea moves from thought to some kind of realization, I must have really needed to see the thing in a more tangible way to get it out of my head. Making stuff does act like an internal barometer, moving me from place to place, answers to questions and back again. When something is much more involved it begins to take a shape outside of just me, and now I am more open to what my perceptions do in a wider sense. Perhaps politically, although admittedly rarely. Usually in the context of some type of conversation. The hypothetical "what if....."
I have always felt that all of those pools we dip in, political, social, and personal, are very small pools indeed; regardless of how far we swim out. The overlap is actually far more interesting.
If I were to use something made by another, I feel it is a good idea to ask why I am using it, and am I actually enriching the original, or just usurping good ideas from elsewhere. I do wonder about thoughts behind the original conception, that knowledge can push or guide the focus of work and conversation. It's the same as history informing the future. You just can't escape it.
I believe anything we make impacts other aspects of our lives. If you think enough of something to put it out for all and sundry, then you are aware that you need to be prepared for what comes back. A seesaw of perspective.
Making things is a way of taking something out of me to a space where I can just look at it. Hopefully not make it more or less, just understand it better. And unlike some conversations, creation can be durable, you may change how you feel about it, it may loose relevance, it may just become one hell of a pain in the ass. But; there it is, with all the baggage it does or does not deserve.
I like these questions though, they endure because they have a classic applicability over time. I wonder what you will sift out from the responses. I wonder if you'll come up with some form of an answer for yourself. And I do wonder if that answer will become different in the coming months. It is the start of winter. No fucking shortage of time to think sitting in the deep freeze.
S.
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Evan Webber – Time and Space Magazine
When I'm making something, it's sort of like making a model of the world, so that I can get a sense of how certain particulars work on me and on the other participants or creators. This sounds like faux-science, but I think it's functional and useful when the focus remains squarely on the an examination of qualities of being - questions suitable to performance and writing, I think - as opposed to, say, figuring out what type of bridge is best for frieght trains, or whatever. So yes, I'm trying to figure out how to exist in the world by examining different elements of reality. I try to do that as much as possible, to be a concious person - the art is a way of sharing this reflection on being, a kind of report on reality - always useful to me, and possibly to others.
Things that are questionable, inconsistent, beautiful or strange - things that inconsistent with my understanding or aspirations of reality go into, and begin the process of the making the things I make, or help other people make them. But I think that if I were a dentist or auto mechanic I'd feel the same way.
When I see another piece of art or design or public policy, the first question is: Is this explaining or feeding into my understanding of reality? To the degree that it is, I might consider it truthful, or if it's a new reflecion, challenging. If it's both, it becomes something essential - and I'm essential to it because my opinion could be said to bear on its adoption. If I just recognize my own questions without seeing a new proposal, I sometimes feel less alone, but sometimes I feel more alone, because I see my own delusions exposed, and I feel part of a community of suckers.
If something feels under-considered however, it makes me mad or sad, in that I think it's doing something bad to the world and I want it to go away. I'm often afraid of art for this reason, and I want to stay home, even though the potential for failure is an essential environmental factor.
Hope it's a good talk.
EW
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Megan Andrews - The Dance Current
Hi Jacob:
I'm hoping to come to the show tomorrow so I'll miss your talk tonight. If things can shift, I'll try to come out tonight but not sure yet.
In terms of your questions, yes, when I'm making something I definitely think about how it impacts other aspects of my life. In fact, everything I do seems so completely interwoven, each affecting the other, including my own personal actions and interactions on a social, interpersonal level.
I feel like you're asking a number of things so here's another way to say this: Yes, my makings, whatever they happen to be, from the curating/editing of the magazine to my own writing, to dancing, to teaching, to personal creative projects that are not public, are all ways of thinking through questions I have about the world, my place in it, my relationships with others in the world. Sometimes, I get tangled up in the thinking through and then reflecting on, and I feel like I need a "cleansing of the palette" somehow.
That leads me to other people's makings, which often provide this for me, or perhaps not necessarily a cleansing but they enable/offer/inspire shifts of perspective, new angles on old topics, old angles on new topics... and so, to answer your final question, yes, I do consider what other makers might have been working on and working out in their makings also.
So, there you have it. Good stuff to ponder.
Best on the talk if I'm not there.
Cheers.
Megan
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Alex McLean – Zuppa Circus
Hey Jacob,
I think this is an interesting question and my answer is, indeed: yes, yes and yes. I find it impossible to think about more than one thing at once, so what I end up doing is shifting the focus of my thought regularly. I think about one thing for a while (sometimes only minutes) and then, in a flash, switch streams to something else.
I tend to start and end with the personal, I think, though I can't be certain because of its connection to social and political understandings of the world. But it is the case that the things I see as I walk to work, the things I've read, encounters I have had with people, inevitably influence decisions I make in the rehearsal hall. More and more, my understanding of shows I work on is influenced by things that happen in my non-work hours.
I have only recently realized (as I think we spoke about a few months ago) that I believe in the notion of "drama" as a force of good in the world. For me the term encompasses a greater amount of artistic activity than it does for many, I think, but I am intrigued by the traditions that precede me. I wonder what others thought about on nights like this and what events -- large and small -- affected their acts. I wonder about the effect of my daily tinkering on the communities around me and its impact on a broader cultural discussion. Generally, I don't know quite where I fit, and I think the shows I work on carry at least a trace of that unease.
Cheers,
Alex
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George Stamos
Hi Jacob.
In reading your questions, I questioned the separation of the personal from the universal?
Personal, social, political or understandings of the world are all things that impact the many aspects of life?
I point this out because it is the focus on the interconnectedness of things that is my reply to your overall question.
I think we sometimes have far too 'set in stone' concepts about what is normal, bizarre, personal or all encompassing.
The brain I am told, does not work like a filing cabinet. Its more like an imense spider web with shooting currants following intricate and sometimes indirect pathways in this mega web.
Because I see my art making as mining and mapping the brains in the room and "the brain of the piece that becomes its own thing with its own logic" its helpful and freeing for me to realize this web-brain idea.
Maybe that feeds the conversation somehow??
George
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Josh Thorpe
That's a very complicated question! My short answer would be....
Yes and no.
Making a mark is making a mark. A smudge of colour is a smudge of colour.
Ethical, political, psychological, epistemological, and ontological interests run parallel to the making of the work. They live not in the material itself, but in the socialized constellation of moments in which the material is apprehended. These moments can precede, coincide with, and follow the working and the work itself. The best part of a work is sharing it.
Of course there are other ways that occur to me to answer this question.
Like: Making art is like buying books.
Best,
Josh
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Ian MacKenzie – Theatre is Territory
hi Jacob,
Good questions.
Your questions, then my answers.
1) When you make something (whatever you make) - are you thinking out something that impacts other aspects of your life?
Ideally, yes. I work on a broad range of creative projects in a relatively broad range of media, from writing Honda ads, to ad campaign development, to op/ed writing, to photography, to original musical recordings . . . etc. Whatever I'm doing, the best work seems to be the work that most cleanly relates back to other parts of my life or my work, or that in some way most eloquently captures and expresses some of the beauty in the major or minor events of my world. The adage "Write what you know" grows truer for me as I grow as a writer.
The topic of my Grandmother, for example, has come up a lot lately in improv music sessions. It surprises me. Shouldn't I be writing about the alienation of urbanity or covering some other such street-credible territory? No, it seems. I should be writing about my grandmother because that's obviously what's on my mind right now.
2) Are you using that activity to work on personal, social, political or other understandings of the world?
Yes. And I think that's exactly what draws me to art making of all kinds. I don't trust that I will ever fully understand my life or the world around it through science, or academia, or religion, or journalism - but I have a sense that my best bet for really "knowing" is through art. It's what makes me know I'm an artist: I have faith in the power of art to communicate truth.
3) When you are seeing or using something someone else has made, do you think about what they might have been working on or thinking about when they made it?
Sometimes. I mean what were the artists in One Reed's "(never underestimate) The Power" at this Year's SummerWorks working through? I raise that example because on one hand that piece was so full of local signifiers that I almost felt the piece was about me, my world. And it was in a way. And I imagine the artists were drawing on their experience of a similar world to mine (psychogeographically speaking, anyway). But on the other hand, it played like a fiction . . . so what are they working on up there? What are they trying to say? I wonder - and it felt true to me. But I'm not able to put my finger on exactly what.
The short answer to this question is that while I do wonder, it's highly speculative to think that I have anything more than the vaguest clue about what the motivation is behind their work.
Hope this helps.
Thanks,
Ian
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Claire Pfeiffer
Hi Jacob,
Making things by hand is very important to me, and of course plays an important part in my ethics. I make clothing and other sewn and knitted objects. When I make the things I make, I am always thinking about, in a nutshell:
• My dreams and inspiration
• The meaning of work and practice
• The environmental processes of materials manufacturing
• Industrialization and its effects on our society
• Armageddon and whether or not I will get through it by using my tailoring skills
I am a first-generation urbanite and know-how is very important in my family. The qualitative differences between know-how and information is always at the top of my mind when I am making things.
Making things takes time--more time than it would to buy the same things. Through spending time making things I am practicing patience, which is something that I try and extend throughout the rest of my existence.
Hope that makes sense.
Claire
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