THE POWER OF WHAT IS POSSIBLE

In art-making there are two really valuable questions to hold as we engage with the creative process: “What is possible?” and “What does it mean for me?”

The first question, “What is possible?” is the curiosity igniter, the unlocking mechanism, and the invitation to risk and explore in our work. It immediately suspends our judging thoughts and brings us into a space of play and openness. We become more engaged by this question and our mind unhooks from “shoulds” and limiting judgments about our creative instincts. And as artists we rely on those creative instincts to tap into our unique expression – our vision being spoken through our artistic voice and visual language.

As we attempt to answer what is possible in our art-making we may initially bump up against the parts of us that are less about curiosity and discernment and more about our doubt and fears. We may feel the rush of a possibility flow in and then immediately hear a secondary thought that sounds something like, “What are you thinking, that will never work!” Or it might ring with “How am I going to do that? Will it be any good? What if I mess up and lose everything I have so far?”

We have to be aware of the secondary follow-up thoughts that usually accompany our deeper curiosity and adventurous ideas. Those thoughts come from a place that is not in support of art-making, but reveals the internal barriers that we form throughout our lives to conform and perform. The habitual sabotaging that so many of us do to stop ourselves from taking any action that seems risky or that might draw unwanted attention our way is all too common, and too easily indulged.

But sometimes when we want bigger things for ourselves and for our art, we need to begin just where we are. That means allowing ourselves to acknowledge the things that may be getting in our way and working to clear them. “What is possible?” can help us here as well. We can ask ourselves about the quality of our thoughts and if they are serving us or not. We can work with the ones that are not serving us, and reframe them into thoughts that invite in the possibility of change and growth. Our thoughts and predispositions can be changed and “What is possible?” sets the table for us, taps into our growth mindset and begins to retrain our minds toward curiosity leading the way.

I recently read an article about the artist Yuji Agematsu in Hyperallergic and was fascinated by his approach to art-making, which in my opinion, relied heavily on the question “What is possible?” 

His work involves a daily practice of walking the streets of his New York neighbourhood, taking notes and collecting found objects that have been discarded – the detritus of our lives, as well as pieces from the natural world: leaves, twigs, a dragonfly wing.

The items that catch his eye are carefully picked up and placed in a small cellophane wrapper from a cigarette package that he carries with him. This wrapper – a discarded item itself – becomes the container for the work of art he is making. 

Upon returning to the studio with that day’s collection, Agematsu begins to engage with the found items. He arranges them into compositions and then glues everything into place. This now becomes a component of a larger piece he is making based on these daily excursions. These pieces – part sculpture, part painting, part collage – are then installed onto small white shelves that he designed. One sculpture for each day of the month and each month represented by a shelving unit. Eventually, the final installation holds 366 pieces – a leap year’s documentation of a daily practice of asking what is possible with what has been collected today.

While this approach to art-making is unconventional in many ways, and relies heavily on the concepts that underpin it, Agematus is also engaging with the question, “What does this mean to me?” His curious engagement is guided by meaning and relationships – the connections he is making for himself, the meaning he is giving to the materials, the thoughts that accompany him, and the obsessive nature of documentation. 

The article notes the artist’s process; the first chosen item of the day “wakes up my eyes and I start to open up and find more.” That first item then determines the next choice. An intentional process of noticing and choosing from the array of materials available to him on the city streets that day.

These visual composites rely on his artistic sensibilities along with the meaning he prescribes to his work. Agematus places value on what others deem as disposable, and this speaks to ideas of displacement and perception of worth. Meaning often lies in the personal observations we make about our lives and the world around us.

The question of “What does it mean for me?” brings us closer to the personal component in our work – why we make our choices and the uniqueness of our interests and expression. Making art from this place of personal connection and meaning – whatever that may be for each of us – ensures that we are tapping into our authenticity and allowing that to shape our work. And, that always makes our path and focus as artists more clear. The work is stronger for it and the process of creating is more enjoyable as well.

“What is possible?” leads us to new discoveries and fuels our practice with energy and unexpected results. It also bulldozes the stickiness of over-thinking and concerning ourselves with others’ perceptions of our work. It invites us to make art for an audience of one – ourselves – and to become an intrepid explorer of our own curious nature.

“What does it mean for me?” invites us to find the connections that matter for us so we have a relationship to our work that is rooted in who we are, and what we know to be true for us. Work that holds meaning for us – in whatever form – keeps us engaged and able to move forward, even when the process is arduous and complicated. Anchoring into why the work matters for us will carry us along, allowing us to work with conviction and trust in the process – circling back to what is possible, and then clarifying our next choice or direction.

Working with these types of questions can help us form a roadmap, one that we write for ourselves and that will be our lifelong guide for our art-making process. The unexpected now becomes expected and welcome, as we utilize our confidence and discernment to clarify and express what we know, experience and see as artists.

Finding the guiding questions that empower us along the way are invaluable mindset tools to accompany the creative process. What else is possible for us as artists?

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