By the age of 18, Brian Kershisnik had lived in four different countries. His father, a petroleum geologist, relocated the family from Oklahoma to Angola; from Angola to Thailand; from Thailand to Texas; and from Texas to Pakistan.

“I’ve always felt somewhat out of place, but I think that being a stranger may be more of a universal experience than belonging,” says Kershisnik, who ultimately settled in the small Mormon town of Kanosh, Utah. “I believe that humanity is largely motivated by a sense of belonging to something we haven’t quite seen yet but can almost remember. Being awkward is a part of life.”

Reading a Very Small Book

And, he realizes, a part of art. The people in his paintings—drawn in bold, charcoal outlines, but often left with unfinished features— are often out of place themselves. In Father and Son Dancing, a man holds his infant son on his shoulder. It could have been painted as a pure expression of joy, but this father is clumsy, heavy-footed. In Flight Practice with Instructions, a man tries to fly, but is tethered to the ground like a kite on a string. He is not flying as much as practicing flight, a crucial theme for the artist.

“Several summers ago, I saw a man in his front yard practicing his cast with a new fly rod. My comment to my wife was quite accidental. ‘Look. That man is practicing flying.’ She is quite used to my making such mistakes and rather than correcting me suggested it was a good idea for a painting. As I began sketching, I realized how vital the issue of ‘practice’ has been in my work, though I had never before named it. How splendidly human it is to practice. Everything we do can be seen as practice, as long as we believe that the failure of our current task will sooner or later—and probably gradually—give way to something lovely, even beautiful.”

Blessed Unrest
by Paul Hawken

Paul Hawken, one of the wisest men on earth in my opinion, has published a new book that I’ve just finished reading. Titled Blessed Unrest, the book describes the convergence of the environmental and social justice movements, and “how the largest movement in the world came into being.”

Paul Hawken is an entrepreneur (one of founders of Smith & Hawken) who has devoted his life to environmentalism and the journalism that reports on it. In this beautiful, soulful book, he makes the case that we are all part of the earth’s immune system each time we exercise our active compassion in the name of social justice and ecological health.

Hawken lectures tirelessly on this subject, and he writes of giving groups the task of designing a spaceship that could leave earth and return in one hundred years with an ecosystem and crew that is healthy and happy. The top designs, he writes, are the ones where the passengers of the spaceship create a culture rather than simply consume one. This requires that a significant proportion of the passengers be artists, musicians, actors, and storytellers.

Blessed Unrest is an incredibly relevant book for our time. It reminds us that now, more than ever, we need our artists to help us envision and create a totally new culture – one that remakes, restores, renews, and revitalizes society and the earth. ]]> http://blog.artfulhome.com/index.php/2008/11/05/paul-hawkens-blessed-unrest-reminds-us-of-the-importance-of-artists/feed/ 0 http://blog.artfulhome.com/index.php/2008/08/27/john-daido-looris-the-zen-of-creativity-and-a-picnic-basket-help-explain-sabi/ http://blog.artfulhome.com/index.php/2008/08/27/john-daido-looris-the-zen-of-creativity-and-a-picnic-basket-help-explain-sabi/#comments Wed, 27 Aug 2008 22:31:11 +0000 Toni Sikes http://blog.guild.com/?p=409 I’ve been reading a wise and wonderful book, The Zen of Creativity, by John Daido Loori. This author’s descriptions of the spirit and meaning of the Zen arts ring true with me as I explore how these concepts mesh with my own daily life.

For example, Loori explains the word ’sabi’ as the suchness of ordinary objects, the basic, unmistakable uniqueness of a thing in and of itself.

Earlier this week, as I packed a picnic basket for a final end-of-summer picnic outing, I took a few moments to examine the basket itself. Made of sturdy white oak strips by a North Carolina basketmaker, this beautiful piece of functional art has contributed to many happy events over the years. (After all, what is more special than a summer picnic with friends and family?)

And yet, as I stopped and really looked at my picnic basket, I moved a little closer to understanding the concept of sabi. There is definitely a suchness about this object, and I am indebted to Loori and his book for helping me see it. ]]> http://blog.artfulhome.com/index.php/2008/08/27/john-daido-looris-the-zen-of-creativity-and-a-picnic-basket-help-explain-sabi/feed/ 0 http://blog.artfulhome.com/index.php/2007/12/19/the-cat-in-art-by-stefano-zuffi-is-a-must-have-book/ http://blog.artfulhome.com/index.php/2007/12/19/the-cat-in-art-by-stefano-zuffi-is-a-must-have-book/#comments Wed, 19 Dec 2007 22:46:20 +0000 Toni Sikes http://blog.guild.com/?p=296

The Cat in Art
by Stefano Zuffi

As every obsessive reader knows, books multiply in the night. I’ve tried all kinds of tricks to keep the invasion at bay (only two shelves allowed for cookbooks, for example) — mostly to no avail. My husband only acerbates the problem, as he believes that it is essential to keep a book in every room, just in case one needs to sit down and read in the middle of, say, cooking dinner.

My home office is filled with art books (what else?), so much so that I’ve reduced new art book purchases to the “absolutely must have, can’t live without” rule.

I’ve been doing pretty well with this until last week, when a colleague loaned me a new book titled The Cat in Art. This elegant book by Stefano Zuffi takes the reader on a journey through the centuries of masterpieces in which the image of the cat is depicted.

So, this book manages to combine two of my passions: (1) art, and (2) cats. I guess that means it fits into the “absolutely must have, can’t live without” rule.

The Substance of Style
by Virginia Postrel

I have just finished reading The Substance of Style by Virginia Postrel. In this penetrating, provocative book, Postrel demonstrates that the “look and feel” of people, places, and things are more important than we think. Aesthetic pleasure taps deep human instincts and is essential for creativity and growth.

This articulate author states, “Aesthetics is not a luxury, but a universal human desire.” For example, poor people create the body of decoration that illustrates National Geographic. Poor people built the cathedrals of Europe and developed the paintings of Tibet. Poor people turned baskets and pottery into decorative art.

We all know that economic status has nothing to do with the love of beauty. Postrel goes one step further by arguing that everyone should participate in setting the aesthetic imperative of a society. After all, she says,
“Aesthetics has become too important to be left to the aesthetes.”

The Syntax of Objects
by Tim McCreight

My friend Tim McCreight has written a beautiful little book titled The Syntax of Objects. With his permission, I include an excerpt for you:

“I believe we love certain objects. Of course there is enthusiasm: ‘I love your new shoes!’ but I’m thinking of genuine love, something lasting that comes from deep inside us. I’m thinking of the jam jar glasses you remember from your grandma’s cupboards, or the Betsy Wetsy doll or the Christmas music box.

Let us take it as fact: we love certain artifacts.

And if this is so, do they love us back? Can we say that the chipped mug that has sat every day on the back of the sink, or the porkpie hat with the coffee-colored sweatstain around its rim do not feel for us too? Who is to know if there is not some reflected passion, or if not passion, maybe a reverberating energy, like when the ripples started by a stone tossed in a still pond reach the edge, surround the rocks there, and recoil back toward the center?

Is there an echo of connection between the intimate, memory-scarred object and the need of a living being? I think there is. We hold the family heirloom – the prayerbook or paper fan or stack of letters tied with a pale blue ribbon – and we know they have been waiting for us. Maybe they do not need us, perhaps that’s too strong, but they are glad we’ve come. We somehow complete the circuit and allow the energy to flow. In the world of Apocalypse, there are no objects. Like withered plants in an untended garden, they will resolve to dust when we no longer come to visit them, even the gold and the jade carvings that have lasted so long: they’ll rust and corrode.

Love is built that way, a force that perpetually sails out and rebounds. It picks up speed as it goes, gaining strength and amplitude as it recoils from source to object to source, eventually hitting a pace that blurs distinction. This is true in the universe, and so it is true of our possessions. They own us as much as we own them, and learn from us the courtesies of the bond. We must be kind to the material outcroppings of our lives, not because of insurance values, or sentiment, or good citizenship. We must treat the special objects of our lives with decency and tenderness, because that is what we want back from them. In the dark and lonely night, we need to know they care for us.”

Friedman is at heart an optimist, and as he is describing huge global problems, he also outlines opportunities. He actively encourages America to “retain the best of our own imaginations.” He poses a critical question that we should all be considering: “What leads one person to the joy of destruction and what leads another to the joy of creation?”

This amazing writer describes imagination as the product of two shaping forces. One is the narrative that people are nurtured on – the stories and myths they tell themselves – and how those narratives feed their imaginations. The other is the context in which people grow up, which has a huge impact on shaping how they see the world.

Artists are the essential nurturers of our collective imaginations, and as such, play a vital role helping us shape a new vision of a better world.

The Architecture of Happiness
by Alain de Botton
Photo courtesy of Pantheon Books

I’m reading the most wonderful book, The Architecture of Happiness by Alain de Botton. It is just published by Pantheon Books, and I suggest that you rush right out and purchase a copy.

De Botton attempts, quite successfully, to make the argument that beauty in architecture really does matter (even though the architectural field is wary of even discussing the topic of beauty). He eloquently makes the point that our homes, in particular, remind us of who we are. He states, “We need our rooms to align us to desirable versions of ourselves and to keep alive the important, evanescent sides of us.”

I’ve always felt that beauty is important in the rooms of our lives. I believe our personal spaces shape us as much as we shape them. The Architecture of Happiness helps me better understand why this is so. ]]> http://blog.artfulhome.com/index.php/2007/01/31/the-architecture-of-happiness-tells-how-rooms-shape-us/feed/ 3 http://blog.artfulhome.com/index.php/2006/04/12/a-new-tool-for-art-businesses/ http://blog.artfulhome.com/index.php/2006/04/12/a-new-tool-for-art-businesses/#comments Wed, 12 Apr 2006 17:57:36 +0000 Toni Sikes http://blog.guild.com/?p=33
“Making a Living in Crafts”
by Donald A. Clark