Limits On Creativity

Do you ever get the feeling someone's watching you?


I don't mean in the scary sense, like you've got a stalker. I mean it in the sense that certain phrases or words keep making themselves known to you. And they're just the phrases or words that you need to hear.


Lately the term 'focus' has been leaping out at me from blogs and books and newsletters. So much so that I wonder if there's something I need to pay attention to (oh, sorry 'bout that).

It happened again today, just a few moments ago. I received a newsletter from Barbara Martin, author of Reptitude, a cool blog about creative endeavors. Her inaugural missive deals with setting deadlines and other limits for creative effort. And if I may toot my own horn, Barbara mentions Mavis Penney's and my Off The Highway blog which chronicles our 100 days of painting experience as a way to describe different ways of setting intentions - cool!


Ahem, back to focus...

I have noticed that since finishing our Off the Highway project, I've been a bit adrift. No flaming deadlines looming, no one checking to see what I'm up to. I can do anything I want now that I'm all caught up. Interestingly, I' haven't been all that certain what I wanted to do with all that newfound freedom.

@ 2009 Square One P Scarborough 12 x 12 oil

I took my cue from the universe, or whoever it is that's nagging me, and I'm starting a new project. It's all about focus and limits. I'm committed to painting at least 30 one-square-foot paintings of one-square-mile I've picked out north of town. Just like the Off The Highway project, in which we allowed ourselves the leeway of painting anything that could be seen from a highway, I can paint anything within that square mile. To enforce the goal, I announced the project as an exhibit to be shown at The Burkholder Project in March, 2010.

Why a limit on what I can use for inspiration? I became aware that when I was immersed in the Off The Highway experience, I felt a certain freedom to experience more fully what I was seeing when I was limited to the highway. It's called "inspired monotony". If you do the same thing, or a small set of things, over and over, innovation is almost a necessity. It's, well, un-limiting.

Off The Highway Series @2009 Day 57 - First Light Heifer P Scarborough 5 x 7 oil

Marla Baggetta painted 100 paintings using the same simple landscape as inspiration. To relieve the monotony (her selected landcape doesn't include too many cathedrals or fruit markets) she conceived her landscape in startling and beautiful ways. My square mile may not be the most interesting piece of real estate in the world, but I'm fairly certain that by the time March rolls around, I'll have learned a fair amount about what goes on there, and I'll have learned a bit more about painting.

@2009 Square 2 P Scarborough 12 x 12 oil

I'm excited about being limited. It's kind of freeing, in an odd way.

How do you set limits to inspire your new projects?

Happy International Artist's Day!

Gosh, the day nearly got by me without so much as a 'woo-hoo'!

It seems that 3 short years ago some energetic folks decided that artists needed a day all to themselves. International Artist's Day is also Picasso's birthday. Amazing coincidence.


So, how did you celebrate?


Yeah. Me neither.

I spent a bit of time digging around in my pile of frames and other Important Keepsakes (yes, pronounce it like it sounds. IK.) My new organizing theme is "If it's not a definite yes, it's a no". Sounds simple, but it means giving away all those almost good frames and almost good supplies and almost useable anythings to someone, anyone who is more interested in them than I am. It's a cinch that if that stuff hasn't been used in, oh, say 2 years, it probably isn't all that important to me. I've got a big box full of IK that will go to the 2nd-hand store soon. It feels great, because now there's room for me in my studio. And that's a good thing.


In place of all the IK, in the shiny new spot with nothing in it, I prepared a stack of square foot canvases. It's an exciting new project I'll be working on for a few months. I've selected one-square-mile north of where I live to use as inspiration for one-square-foot paintings. My goal is to have at least 15 by March. 30 by July. After that, who knows? I'll either have it all figured out by then, or I'll be having so much fun that 50 or 60 may look good.


What's the point? By limiting myself to one square mile and one square foot, I suppose I'll learn what exactly a small tract of land is comprised of. Vistas, close-ups, flora and fauna, so much of it subject matter I probably would never have noticed. It'll be a challenge, of course, and an exciting challenge to be sure.

Now that I think of it, I celebrated International Artist's Day by beginning this project. Twelve canvases are primed and ready to go.

I'll keep you posted, of course.

Hard Work, Fun Work

What a great day! I just finished a terrific workshop with a terrific group of people.



I hope they had as much fun as I did.

I admire folks who take workshops. It's hard work.

First, students take the giant leap to trust the instructor. As you know, just because a person can, say, paint, it doesn't necessarily mean they can communicate about the act of painting. Color theory, composition and everything else involved really have to be discussed, and it's not easy to get your brain around if it's not something you have experience with. Balancing simplicity with the necessary depth is tough, and takes time to work through, both for instructor and student.

So, when people agree to come to a workshop I'm giving, I really appreciate it, and I work hard to help them have a successful experience. It's really great to share those 'aha' moments with a student when the lightbulb goes on. It's those moments educators live for.

These folks were a blast to share the day with. They worked hard, asked great questions, and
were patient with me as I converted visual information buried deep in my brain into understandable sentences. Thank you for your patience!

Next pastel workshop is scheduled through Southeast Community College and will be held in York, Ne. January 29-30, 2010. Call Deb Schnell at 402.362.6700 or email her at
dschnell@southeast.edu to sign up and join the fun!

Like Broccoli

Every artist must, must must write an artist's statement. I think it's the law.

I imagine there is some cosmic Art Mother standing amongst the clouds in her sensible shoes with her hands on her hips, fine canvas apron tied neatly about her waist. She's giving me the hairy eyeball, her look telling me to stop fooling around and get that statement written. And when I ask why I have to explain in words, she says in her most motherly voice: "Because, it's good for you."

I've read and written lots of statements over the years. It's a must, a have to, because everyone else is doing it. And I'm here to tell you, we artists create visually because we do not write well. We're better painters/sculptors/creators than we are wordsmiths.

My original plan for this post was to rail against having to write statements. I had some pretty good arguments for not bothering to write one. Interestingly, no matter how clever my reasoning was, I had to admit that writing about my work has proven to be beneficial for me. It's good for any artist to sit with the why. Taking time to think about the reasons behind the subject matter or the color choice or the medium selection can be enlightening for any artist. I've gotta say, I believe that getting a handle on the why will validate and enrich your choices for current and future work.


I take familiar imagery and highlight the beauty and intensity of the moment. I choose sensitive and exciting colors and use energetic strokes of pigment to create an image of vibrancy in an otherwise ordinary moment.

Barb's Pond copyright 2009 P Scarborough

It's not rocket science, but articulating my thoughts about my style and subject matter has helped me know how to approach new ideas and paintings. I'm on a path, and while I'm not certain where it is leading me, at least I know there's a course for me to develop.

So, much to my surprise, I land on the side of Art Mother, hands on hips, sensible shoes. Write your statement. It's good for you.

Paper Pep Rally

(Before I forget, many of my 100 paintings are now hanging at Graham Gallery in Hastings. Wow! Very impressive! They'll be up for just a few short weeks, and then they'll scatter to the four winds...)

I was digging around in my files of Important Papers recently, looking for a snippet of information that would relieve me of the fear and angst that accompanies the starting of a new painting.
(Okay, that might be a little bit dramatic, but sometimes that blank canvas seems to be staring right back at me, as if it were daring me to lay a mark on it. It's a bit much to deal with early in the day.)
When I take a class, or read a book, I write down quotes that touch my heart or rattle my psyche. I keep them in a File of Important Papers, which is a mound of paper scraps that seem too necessary to toss out, but are unable or unwilling to be organized. Sometimes I scrawl them on notecards and paste them on the wall where I can see them easily. My own little pep rally.
It's like reading Christmas cards from years ago, or paging through an old scrapbook. Lots of good memories are stored in those bits of paper, and a few bruise-y ones as well.

A few of my favorites:

"Argue for your limitations and they are yours." - Richard Bach

"Patience! Set up properly!" - every teacher I've ever had. When will it soak in?

"Tolerance for uncertainty is the prerequisite to succeeding." - from 'Art & Fear' by David Bayles and Ted Orland

"Know the temperature and quality of light first, before you start painting." Donna Aldridge

"Writing [or painting] is easy: all you do is sit staring at a blank sheet of paper until the drops of blood form on your forehead." - Gene Fowler

"It's easier to move from a neutral position than to be too dark/light, intense/dull. Move from there." Amy MacLennan

"Paint like you have all the time in the world." - Dustin VanWechel

"Let the student enter the school with this advice: No matter how good the school is, this education is in his own hands. All education must be self-education." - Robert Henri from 'The Art Spirit'.

"There's no short cut, sorry! I'm not making it easy on you. This is what it takes." - Larry Blovits

"Nice picture, who is it?" Handsome Husband upon seeing a recently painted self-portrait.

"Fear doesn't go away. It diffuses with experience." Christine Kane

"It'll be hard, but you can do it." Dr. Gary Zaruba

"I'm Ready!!" - me

What quote would you add to the File of Important Papers?

Brain Mapping

Between my husband's propensity toward left-brain thinking, and my right-brain dominance, we might just make one whole brain.



We just returned from a 4-hour trip to hang out with Fun Family. Our journey took us through south-central Nebraska and eastward through northern Kansas. (Didja get that? On a map, it's down, and over to the right.)



(Despite what some say, that area of the country is truly beautiful, especially this time
of year. The hills roll gently toward the horizon, covered with milo, soybeans, corn and sunflowers. In autumn, milo heads are a rich burnt-orange color, and for a few days soybeans dry brilliant yellow before they ripen to a rosy brown. Corn stalks stand tall and brittle. Sunflowers hide their yellow petals under heavy heads on warm green stalks. And the cottonwoods, well, they're fantastic.)

In response to my delighted descriptions of the landscape, Handsome Husband said, "Mhhm. You missed your exit."

"But didja see the shadows? They're a lovely blue-ish purple. " To which he remarked, "Hmhm. You can grab 229, merge onto 29 South and take exit 485. "

I know that exit. It's right by a great big red water tower. It can be uncommonly pretty against a blue sky. Thanks to HH and his attention to detail, we remained in the continental US and arrived in due time at our destination.

We and the Fam had a great time watching KU football and their exceptional marching band. (Some of us gather for the band performance and sit politely through the football game, which, by the way, is played on a luminously green field, a lovely counterpoint to bright blue uniforms with crimson trim.)

A day and fifty belly laughs later we hugged Fun Family goodbye and headed home. I just might add here that we live in a town of just under 2,000 people. We have one stoplight, and that's the truth. Fun Family lives in the Kansas City area. It's just a slightly more complicated kind of driving. Leaving the city we were faced with a backwards rendition of finding our way in to the metro. Suddenly HH's exit numbers were out of order and our interchanges were knotted in the opposite direction. We needed to turn south to go north and merge left to stay on the highway. His logic was being sorely tested.


It seems that in order to return safely to the golden cornfields of south central Nebraska, we were going to have to combine HH's analytical powers with my ability to visually un-knot the tangle of highways we were on.


"I'm just certain we turn here" I declare. "If we turned left on the way in we need to turn right on the way out. Take the loopty-loop backwards and we'll be fine."

And we were.

As we both relaxed into our trip homeward, HH turned to me and said, "Geez, look at the flowers in the ditch there. They're pretty against the orange milo aren't they?"

I smiled at him, pleased to know that he has developed an eye toward subtle beauty in the landscape. "Yes they are, sweetie", I say. "And you just missed your exit."

What's for Dinner?

I am too stuffed to think.
My youngest son turned 25 a few days ago. Twenty five!! (Insert your own age joke here.)
Rather than discuss the passing of years and the spinning of time, let's talk about something really important.
If you could have anything - anything for your birthday dinner, what kind of dinner would you ask for?
We celebrated with grilled chicken, cheesy potatoes, garlic asparagus, crusty rolls with real butter, and angel food cake. And laughter. Man, my family knows how to laugh.
It was about as perfect a meal as could be.
What's your perfect birthday celebration?