*Lovers* | Driftwood, thread, wire, metal and canvas | Laurie Doctor & Martin Erspamer, OSB

An engineer recently signed up for one of my classes in Taos. I asked him what kind of work he likes to do, and he described an enviable picture of things he makes and builds. But really, he said, what he wants to do is learn how to “think like an artist.” This got me curious: What does it mean to think like an artist?

In the second month of being cloistered at home, I hear more and more people saying, What day is it? This reminds me of the long, long journey Frodo and Sam made to Mount Doom* — one day folding into the next, and the path seeming endless. With each step, the ring, that which must be given back to the mountain, becomes heavier with reluctance and doubt and the uselessness of the journey. It is so painful to let go. And so easy to give in, to just feel too tired to carry on. At one point, with miles more to climb, and little difference between day and night, Sam says to Frodo: Is it today or tomorrow?

Remembering the perseverance that was required of Sam and Frodo, I wonder, What is it that I must give up, and throw into the fire at the top of this mountain? What does thinking like an artist require of me now? What is this pandemic asking of me? There are so many things I hope it is not asking me to leave behind — like meeting in person with my students again, and celebrating the communion of making; or going to the small family-owned bar where Anna (who planted our dogwood tree) sings with her band; or the buffet at Mabel Dodge Luhan Retreat, where I can help myself to as much crisp bacon, eggs and fresh baked treats as I want every morning, without gloves or a mask. Or going to our locally owned, family-run art store. Or tasting samples at the Farmer’s Market. Or seeing my father. So many things.

I am sitting with this question of what needs releasing, because I think we are being asked to change, to find a new way of being. To let go so that something new can happen. And something new is happening.

An artist knows that what arises new begins in darkness. In every creation story around the world there is some version of void, night, or emptiness that precedes light, the word, the first song. This is the power in the proclamation: And there was darkness upon the face of the deep.

One of the best things I know to do if you are in a dark place, or have lost your way, is to go out at night and be there in it. Whenever possible, be under the moon and stars.

If you want to experience the essential mystery or the secret life of “things” then be there with them, awake when the rest of the world is sleeping.
— Bill Viola

*Up with the moon* L Doctor Sketchbook (drawing by moonlight)

Thinking like an artist demands work and steadfastness and an imagination that pictures a way through, or at least leaves open the possibility of a positive outcome, without having any proof. This is why the old stories are so resonant. Humans of all time have reached a point where it looks like the end of the world. Frodo and Sam do reach the top of the mountain, the ring gets thrown into the fire, and they do arrive back home. As in all the stories, the one who perseveres receives help from unexpected places or unlikely guides, or angels. Even the enemy becomes an unknowing ally. The beginning is the end and the end is the beginning. Somewhere I read you must have a vision of heaven. At moments, it isn’t possible to go forward without this vision. This is why makers of all time strive to find the bridge from the invisible to the visible. When what you make is an offering, you become an instrument of what you cannot see. As Susan Brind Morrow (in her translation of Egyptian hieroglyphs) said: You don’t go to heaven, you become it.

I will end with this prescient quote from Joseph Campbell:

We have not even to risk the adventure alone, for the heroes of all time have gone before us. The labyrinth is thoroughly known; we have only to follow the thread of the hero path. And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god. And where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves. And where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence. And where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world.
— Joseph Campbell, The Power of Myth

And where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence. And where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world.

What are your thoughts on how to think like an artist? How are you getting through this pandemic? I’d love to hear from you.

*(Even if you haven’t read Lord of the Rings, which is one of the best pieces of literature I know, most of you have seen the movie.)