The benefit of arts engagement is well-established. Countless studies detail the increase in brain plasticity that results from taking an art class. By allowing people to re-frame thoughts and experiences, art-making encourages reflection and helps people gain insight. Regular arts engagement builds a person's critical thinking skills, increases empathy, and adds overall to quality of life. Even if arts are engaged with as an observer rather than as a maker, the positive influence is significant.

As I write this in January of 2017, I feel we are living in a period of unusually high levels of fear and anxiety. Certain political figures at home, across the border, and overseas seek to capitalise on, and increase feelings of fear. The continued reinforcement of the need for fear can cause anxiety. Anxiety is the result when fears become pervasive, unfocused, and intangible. When fear is no longer attached to a specific threat, it can be manipulated by influential people. This anxiety can then be used to justify violence and militarisation. The problem is that the people on the receiving end of that violence are then susceptible to the fear-anxiety-violence cycle. The use of violence and military action re-creates the problem it is supposedly intended to solve. It creates a situation in which one must retaliate or be conquered. It creates an “us vs. them” narrative. It decreases quality of life and understanding on both sides of the conflict.

It's true that actions and customs which seem normal in another culture can seem strange or unjust to us. But focusing on how much we might dislike those differences is a futile effort. When beliefs or customs are directly challenged, the response of an individual or a group is often the entrenchment of those customs, the digging in of heels, and a refusal to consider an outside idea. There is a risk here that we will then fail to see the humanity in such a group.

This is where arts can play a key role. As we know, art increases empathy, critical thinking, and brain plasticity. Artistic collaborations and cultural exchanges are not only a positive response to fear, but they can provide avenues by which we might successfully understand or influence practices that we do not like. When we commit acts of violence, we confirm that the world is a violent place, and we become more likely to experience violence. We should confirm that the world is an understanding and empathetic place, through arts engagement, moments of individual reflection, and conversation. Political leaders would do well to start taking art seriously as a way of bridging gaps in intercultural understanding, to create peace for the people they are supposed to represent.  Programs such as international artist residencies, travelling exhibitions/performances, and arts teachers from abroad are good starting points, and there is already some funding for these.  However, in times when we are at risk of being divided, additional and intentional programming is needed.  

The use of force can create the temporary impression of success in terms of making “us” feel safe. However, for a long term solution, we must look at ways to engage, to include, and to educate while being open to learning new things ourselves. It's a more complicated path, and it requires more patience, but it's one that allows us to move forward together. There is no fear of the unknown when you see the humanity in all people. Arts are how we express our humanity, and where we can find it as well.

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Culture is a tricky thing to define, particularly from the inside.  When we see the representation of another culture, we might quickly identify what looks different to us.  However if we look further than appearances, defining what is different and what is the same becomes increasingly challenging.  We know, thanks to Maslow’s handy diagram, that every human has the same basic needs, from water/food/shelter at the bottom of the pyramid, to self-actualisation at the top.  How these needs are met and expressed can vary in ways that are confusing or enlightening, and usually both in turns.
 
Artists take on the work of thinking critically about our culture.  It has always seemed strange to me when criticism of our culture is labelled as unpatriotic, or some other term intended to deflate the argument for improvement.  Without thoughtful critique, we stagnate, we repeat old mistakes, we fail to become better than we have been.  Good artists try to re-work existing ideas, or create new ideas that challenge negative aspects of the status quo. 
 
Direct confrontation in favour of changing some aspect of the accepted culture often creates the opposite of the desired effect; people respond defensively, becoming more entrenched in their existing beliefs.  Effective art walks a fine line of challenging ideas without triggering the defense response.  It’s a line in the sand, different for every person.  Each culture exists with a spectrum of new and old ideas.  I see radical artists at the front line of new ideas, passing them down to receptive but less radical artists, who can translate the useful parts of those ideas into something for the wider population. 
 
From time to time I wonder if I’m where I should be on that spectrum.  Artists are strange participants in the culture that surrounds us, constrained by the usual desire for acceptance and community, but compelled to push for change.  Because artists must sometimes operate outside of what is expected, there can be a perception that even our basic needs are different from those of other people, as illustrated with the ‘starving artist’ stereotype. 
 
A good artist can make art look easy, but it usually comes down to years of practice.  Decisions that look easy or obvious are not always so, before they are made.  Every artist is continually making decisions about how to interpret, critique, and improve their culture.  As John Darnielle has said, “As a would-be intellectual, I think it’s my job to overthink what I’m doing.”

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As you enter Seymour Art Gallery, you are greeted by a cozy glow and seven sets of six colourful balloons arranged symmetrically around the gallery.  Upon first glance, it seems like the festive setting for a children’s party, but your second look induces a feeling of something sinister.  These balloons don’t float or dance, they wait, eerily still and silent.  Evil eyes glare at you from all sides. 

Forstenzer has created 42 blown glass balloons, hung from the ceiling and illuminated from the inside.  A different image is sandblasted on each balloon, with a well-executed variety of texture and detail.  Some of the figures depicted are harsh and angular, while others are more subtle and nuanced. 
 
The images portray characters from stories intended to control the behaviour of children using fear.  Stories are collected from various regions and generations, and grouped into seven themes:  Monsters, Witches, Bogeymen, Legends, Villains, Ghosts, and of course, Clowns. 

This collection is accompanied by a publication created by Forstenzer, which reveals the unique story behind each image.  Forstenzer’s lighter side comes out in her re-telling of these terrifying tales, and it is a relief to be guided through the exhibition with a bit of humour in spite of the dark subject matter. 

The Tailor, (or Der Struwwelpeter in his native Germany,) is the story I found most cringe-worthy, and I am grateful to have been blissfully unaware of him or his thumb-hacking ways as a child.  Several of the stories, like that of La Llarona (Mexico/American Southwest), centre around sleep and nighttime, scaring (or scarring) children at their most vulnerable.  Other stories attempt to prevent children from wandering too far from home, like the story of Dzunukwa (Kwakwaka’wakw/Pacific Northwest).  The clowns included are least likely to come with a lesson for children, but rather enact evil for its own sake, save for the tale of Hop Frog’s revenge (USA). 

After the initial amusement of seeing the characters and reading their stories, we are left to wonder why fear is used so consistently in children’s stories, across all cultures and throughout history.  We may wonder how this use of fear is assimilated into our adult lives.  Childhood fears can persist into strange adult rituals and phobias.  Fear is recognised as one of our most basic emotions, and while it can be used to increase our chances of survival, it must be used wisely. 
 
The theme and the visuals are well matched in this exhibition.  The lighting coming from within the glass balloons creates an ambience that is at first magical, and then haunting.  The overall effect is one that could easily attract a curious child a little bit too close, close enough to see the soulless eyes of Slenderman (the Internet), or the fingernails-turned-claws of the Kinoly (Madagascar).  The juxtaposition of innocent balloons and petrifying imagery effectively reminds us of the innocence of children, and the stories we tell them.   

This solo exhibition is up at the Seymour Art Gallery until the 19th of November, and I highly recommend seeing it if you can.  On the 6th of November, Forstenzer will give an artist talk at 2pm in the gallery, located at 4360 Gallant Ave, North Vancouver, BC.

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You may have noticed that this blog has come out after a longer break than previous posts.  A creative block is a strange obstacle in the life of a person whose profession requires creativity.  There are many proposed solutions, but it’s hard to say which one will work, and which one(s) might make the problem worse. 

Generally, advice around idea block comes with a statement about how it’s a normal problem, commonly experienced.  I wonder how many artists are comforted by this before a deadline when things aren’t working.  Or worse, when there is no external deadline, and projects can be delayed indefinitely. 

If you are well-prepared, you have a few techniques on hand before idea block hits.  My usual technique is to keep working, but to divert my efforts to a related field/topic if needed.  Sometimes this means I go to the studio and make something silly or functional for myself, without needing a concept as I do when I make art.  In this way, I can keep my physical skills from lapsing.  Often while I’m in the middle of working with the material, I will find an idea I can pursue.  As long as I keep the same amount of dedicated time in my schedule, I will be available when new ideas start to form. 

One method that has always seemed dangerous to me is to just relax and not worry about it.  I cringe when I hear this advice given to others.  On the one hand, stress is an obstacle to productivity.  The added pressure you might put on yourself to get over your idea block will likely exacerbate the problem.  But on the other hand, I have seen members of my art school cohort and other artists stop making art indefinitely.  Years slip by and life puts up more and more obstacles to art-making. 

So relaxing is important, but it’s also important where/how you apply it.  When I relax my usual process and make something silly, I keep myself ready for ideas worth pursuing.  To relax entirely and stop practising is a different thing.  When my ceramic studio manager goes on vacation, the studio is closed.  As much as I always look forward to having access to the studio again, I still have to talk myself into going back after an unwanted break.  Being in the studio is good, but getting there becomes a hassle when I haven’t had to do it for 2 weeks.  Before a break, getting there is just part of my schedule.  Small obstacles can become bigger if they are not addressed while too much time passes. 

My method works for me, but every creative person has their own way of working.  It’s important to be mindful of what is or isn’t working, and recalibrate as needed.  Thinking about how to deal with an idea block before one hits can help mitigate stress and make it easier to work through.  What works for you? 

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When I was a child, I knew I was an artist.  In grade school, I was good in art, music, language arts, and to a lesser extent, social studies.  I was not interested in maths and science.  Laughable as it is now, maths and science seemed boring to me at the time.  While I will admit that I underestimated the value of maths (not because the average person uses more than the basics, but because of the brain connectivity it encourages), I feel I really missed the mark on science.  My subject pairings weren’t accurate! 

As an adult artist, I recognise that art and science are part of the same spectrum.  Sometimes art is categorised as ‘creative,’ while science is categorised as ‘analytical,’ but in reality scientists and artists both need a combination of creative and analytical thinking.  Both subjects require that we find/create/discover new possibilities, that we look beyond what we already (think we) know.  Artists and scientists do their best to address the big questions, to push us forward as a species, to make us more humane and understanding. 
 
When I was in art school, I felt something was missing, and I started watching science documentaries.  In the scientists featured, I heard the same passion I often hear when artists talk about ideas.  With the concise summation of years of work over an hour-long program, I saw the magic of proving new theories that help describe our world.  My perception of science and scientists switched from boring / irrelevant to enlivening / necessary. 
 
While I doubt that any scientist would be awarded their grant if they used the word “magic” to describe their scientific process, I think we should recognise the creativity needed to make discoveries in science.  We should always seek to be a society that encourages new scientists and artists alike.  Certainly it's worth it to support people who offer us new ideas, which can have an amazing and transformative power.  Historically, some of our greatest scientific leaps forward have happened in laboratories that would not meet today’s rigorous standards, but where creativity, mistakes / accidents, and a variety of seemingly unrelated topics were pursued. 
 
I feel that much of my work as an artist is inspired by scientific discovery.  Additionally, some of my favourite science is communicated using art.  I have to mention Oliver Sacks here.  His writing is fascinating, and he helped humanise many poorly-understood human experiences.  I recommend all of his books, the first of which I read was “The Man Who Mistook His Wife For A Hat,” in 2003. 

I also want to share a visual art example I found several months ago.  This is a beautiful example of what can happen when art and science are used together.  Enjoy!  https://www.ted.com/talks/margaret_wertheim_crochets_the_coral_reef

When I meet new people, we often start with the usual conversation.  “What do you do?”  When they find out I’m an artist, many people respond in a similar way, saying “Oh I’m not creative.”  Often, as a *professionally creative person,* I feel I have a responsibility to correct them.  Everyone is creative in some way, and creativity is not the same as artistic skill.  The person I’m speaking with often recognises, yes, they are creative in some area of their life, be it at work or with a much-loved hobby.  Every person finds a form of creative expression, regardless of whether it has to do with art-making. 
 
Being immersed in the art world and surrounded by artistic/creative people, I am able to observe keenly the difference between skill and creativity.  Both components are important for my art-making process.  Skill is the repeated action, practised with the impossible goal of perfection.  I believe anyone can build a skill, regardless of how daunting it may seem before you begin.  Skill is the base on which you build your expression of creativity, and practising a skill can become a regular routine. 
 
Creativity can be harder to pin down, and develops differently depending on your skill level.  Creative desires may fuel skill development, or creativity may blossom as a result of skill development.  Artists can experience creativity cycles, where times of great productivity are followed by periods of regeneration.  It can seem like the creativity is in control of the artist, but any practising artist knows that creativity is actually just another skill.  
 
Although you can’t always know exactly what will spark new ideas, you can be ready for them.  You can research concepts or processes that interest you, reflect on what is important to express, and spend time refining your ideas when they come.  There is a misconception that artists dream their ideas, but this is usually not the case.  Rather, an artist is frequently engaging with different concepts and ideas, putting in hours, days, weeks, or months of behind the scenes study, thought, and work before producing an object. 
 
You might think this ruins the magic, but for me there is always a special moment when a sculpture or project comes together.  I can breathe a sigh of relief, knowing all that work paid off. 

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Developing a new skill can be tough.  We are inspired by people at the top of their field, and we want to work with the same ease and confidence we see in our role models.  Of course, comparing your new, undeveloped skill against a master can at times be very discouraging.  We know that everybody has to start somewhere, and that the masters were beginners once, but sometimes that intellectual knowledge doesn’t help with the feeling of ineptitude as you plow through your first hours of awkward mistakes.  Sometimes you may feel that hours of your life are slipping away, working at a developing skill when you still don’t know whether the result will have been worth it. 
 
I feel there are 3 major stages in skill development, and the first one is the most challenging. This is the “newbie” phase of skill development, when you are limited by your limited understanding of your chosen material.  Each material is different and it will take you an unknown amount of time to feel you fully understand.  Experiential learning often becomes quite subtle as you eventually observe the nuances of making small changes in your technique. 
 
Coming up next in skill development is feeling like you really understand the material.  After working hard to develop your skill, you can finally get the result you want most of the time.  You are past the point when you may have had the brash confidence of a newbie who doesn’t realise how little they really know.  You can spot factors in the workspace that may cause you to make mistakes, and fix them.  You can make a detailed plan of action and carry it out effectively.  This is a wonderful phase because you can finally show off your work, and others will confirm that your time wasn’t wasted.  But it’s not the last phase of skill development.  In this phase, you understand the material, but the limits of the material itself are your limits. 
 
You may have guessed that the last phase is moving your limits beyond the limits of the material.  I think this phase is the most unique to each person, because finally it’s not about what the material can do, it’s about you.  Understanding where you want to take your work is a very different kind of challenge.  Your challenge when you first start developing a skill is to simply not quit, to keep practising.  Thinking beyond the limits of the material means that there are no boundaries, no guidelines, sometimes no popular role models leading the way.  It’s hard to know if you’re going in the right direction because you can go in any direction. 
 
Newbie glassblowers often say, ‘the glass is random, it does what it wants.’  As someone who understands the material, I can confirm that glass is always bound by its physical properties, and always responds the way I expect based on my actions.  This doesn’t mean every piece is successful, it just means I can accurately identify my mistakes.  Although there are many new directions I could take my work, I feel like I might still in a newbie phase of moving beyond the limits of my materials, like everything could be random.  Like with the preceding phases, I suspect a big part of getting where I want to be is to keep practising.  So I guess if there’s a fourth phase to skill development, here’s hoping that I’ll be able to update you in a few years. 
 
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The first song I was aware of by the Tragically Hip was “Poets,” from their 1998 album “Phantom Power.”  I was 12.  That song was overplayed on MuchMusic, and I couldn’t stand it.  But then they stopped playing it so much, and I had the chance to miss hearing it.  Eventually I did miss it. 

The next year “Bobcaygeon” was a single, and like everybody I knew, I liked it.  It was a song you’d hear people singing quietly to themselves, little snippets everywhere.  It was a song that when it came on the radio, people would stop their chatter and sing along with reverence. 

I can’t remember exactly when, but I became a Tragically Hip fan, and I bought all their albums.  On every album were songs I already knew.  The Tragically Hip had been playing in the background my whole life, so many familiar songs by a single band.  Their music surrounded me, like a warm hug from someone who loves you.  In that warm hug I heard lyrics teaching me Canadian stories and history with wit and humanity. 

In my mid – late teens, I was often thinking about my identity as a Canadian.  With the constant barrage of media from the US, it was hard to define Canada as anything other than ‘not the US.’  The Hip helped me realise it was about much more than that.  They helped me realise that Canadian art was worth making.  There was this pattern of Canadian creatives either going to the US or the UK to make it big before Canadians would accept them.  Not the Hip.  I am very proud to be Canadian, even knowing it was random chance to be born here, even knowing that this country has made some dire mistakes.  Nothing compares to home. 

The Hip always felt like a band of the people, for the people.  Grounded in reality but given to philosophical tangents.  We should have got another 30 years of Gord Downie, and I think he would have kept working, like he is now.  Artists never retire.  We won’t just lose a man or a band, but years of future Hip songs to remind us of so many moments in our lives, and telling us about our homeland. 

It’s strange to think that there will be future Canadians born or granted citizenship who never lived in the time of Gord.  Like many Canadians, I can’t fully express everything they mean to me. 

Thanks Gord, for everything.  Thanks Rob, Gord S, Johnny, and Paul. 
 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b24OrlbDsS4