On a chilly Friday afternoon, Kaia and I made art cards as a Slow Learning project.
The intention: Take something precious, like a painting or a drawing you’ve made, and chop it to pieces.
1. Create a painting on card stock. (Better yet, find a drawing or painting that you once thought was something special.)
2. Take the painting to my favorite art tool: the almighty guillotine-style paper cutter. Turn the card image-side down (you want to be surprised later) and prepare to chop to a uniform dimension (I like trading card dimension, 2 1/2″ by 3 1/2″ because they fit so nicely in the little plastic sleeves you can buy at hobby stores)
4. Try not to cut your fingers off. (The next step is much harder if you do.)
5. Turn the cards over and see the beauty that emerges.
I’m always taken by how clever the compositions of my new-found paintings are when I chop them up at random.
Kaia pointed out that the framing of the trees outside by the windows reminded him of the framing made by the paper cutter.
The diligent student can read entire books on this subject if they wish (it never hurts), but the deepest realizations come to us from the daily practice of drawing. It is the pencil that teaches best, and anyway, the trees of theory can obscure the forest of practice. I would go so far as to say that practice is philosophy, for practice itself encompasses philosophy, and philosophy without practice is shallow indeed. A lengthy description of a glass of water is no substitute for the experience of drinking a glass of water; so it is with art.
It is essential… that discipline should not be practiced like a rule imposed on oneself from the outside, but that it becomes an expression of one’s own will; that it is felt as pleasant, and that one slowly accustoms oneself to a kind of behavior which one would eventually miss, if one stopped practicing it.
Most everyone can relate to stage fright, public speaking, and performance anxiety, and everyone knows that the only way to get over it is to go through it…you learn by doing, on stage, and from sharing your observations of each exercise you go through. Minimal time to think, maximum time on experiential exercise.
Does learning follow a cycle? What contributes to our learning? How does our thinking get dammed up? What is the source? How might we distill our learning? What bubbles up? What sinks in? How is learning like the the water cycle? How does learning transform us? How do we transform the way we learn? How is learning deep? How is learning shallow? (Is one good and the other bad?) What happens when we get our feet wet? What’s the risk of diving in? Do you want to swim in the deep end? Are there floods and droughts of learning? (Is one better for us that the other?)
Does learning come in tides, in waves? What kinds of monsters lurk in the depths of learning? How are communities of learning like tributaries of a river system? Do we sink or swim?
“Is he a dot or is he a speck? When he’s underwater does he get wet? Or does the water get him instead?”
from They Might Be Giants’ “Particle Man” Flood
Ubuweb A personal favorite. Seemingly infinite archive of online avant-garde media. I could spend the rest of my life looking at the weirdo artsy fartsy stuff posted here.
Archive.org Not only a huge resource of digital media, but here’s a place where you can upload your own works of genius.
Nina Paley If you ever feel a bit guilty about using and copying free media, check out Nina Paley’s brilliant work. And then buy one of her cool tshirts for my birthday. (I stole copied her her comic above.)