works of wanderlust

Category: learning

  • hobbi-fication

    I resist the label of dilettante.

    That said, it may just be the most accurate representation of my entry-level approach to many of my artistic pursuits. It is, after all, the goal of most anyone to rise above what is largely considered to be a negative branding of one’s effort towards any creative interest. 

    Is labelling something a hobby bad?

    In what is almost certainly a shallow and simplified reply to a deeply complex question, I submit that it is obviously fair for us to grade the effort that one puts into any form of expression, craft, or skilled profession by the level of achievement of an individual in said activity. Yeah. Sure. That is unequivocally fair. We should admire anyone who has created and cultivated their talent to a level largely out of reach from others. We should elevate them in our esteem. We should recoginize achievement where due. And this is even more so the case in a world where such achievement is eclipsed by the corporate patronage that enables it. When nepo-babies like Elon Musk get the credit for great achievement in science and engineering simply because he footed the bill, we very much should look past the douchebag claiming all the credit to those standing in the background who did the actual work, the ones who cultivated their talent and knowledge, sold their skills to a company and built amazing things. So, in brief, I very much do think we should respect game, but also work much harder to respect the game that did the actual work. Our society is really fucked up at this.

    Those folks are at the top of their game.

    I bring this up because yet again I find myself dabbling shallow into one of my many hobbies: music. I wrote about this the other day, and yet in every shape and form you should consider me nothing more than a dabbler in music. A hobbyist. A—gulp—dilettante. I am not a professional. I am not a recording artist. I am not destined to find my way into your playlist any time soon. This is not false modesty. It is the honest confession of a guy who knows just enough to fake his way through. I can play, but that’s about it.

    Is that a bad thing?

    No. I don’t think so. But not everyone would agree. And what it brings me to is the subject of gatekeeping.

    Let’s steer this away from art and music into another example I have found in the wilds of my hobby-filled life: running.

    Running is rife with gatekeeping. It’s a sport, after all. It is, like many things, a skill-based effort to which one’s achievement is directly correlated to many things but deeply, deeply correlated to the quantifiable number of hours and kilometers one runs in training. (There is nuance here, there always is, but bear with me.) Runners who train more generally win more races, while the rest of us earn a participation medal and say things like “it was only a race against myself and my own fitness.”

    And you know what? Lots of, if not most, runners are awesome, welcoming people. I run in a group and our philosophy is that literally anyone is welcome to join in a run and so long as you’re making any effort whatsoever then if we’re faster than you we’ll loop back to keep you with the group. We try very hard not to gatekeep the sport. It’s not perfect but I think it mostly works.

    But I have found so much of the opposite. There are people who train harder and then literally snub those who are slower, run lesser distances, or don’t pass some random threshold of achievement. Which in itself is the tricky point and leading into the point I’m trying to extract from this example. In running there is almost always someone who is faster. There is literally only one fastest guy and one fastest gal—in the whold damn world—and it’s measured and recorded on the regular.  Unless you are that person, you are not the fastest and that “some random threshold” that you have set down as a bar over which there are “runners” on one side and “posers” on the other is just exactly that: random and arbitrary.  Such has been true of every example of gatekeeping I have encountered in running in my eighteen years participating in the sport. Some gatekeeping dork who runs such and such speed or so and so distance looks down on everyone slower than them, and looks up to everyone faster than them, and says there, that’s the line. They’re serious, but these people who don’t achieve as they do are apparently lesser and don’t get the label that goes along with the sport. They’re all hobbyist joggers and I’m the serious runner. 

    Again, this is not common, but these special folks definitely exist and definitely show up at run club or meet ups or race corals or wherever. And they are everywhere. I once had a quasi-coworker who was this very person and who literally looked down their nose at me, rolled their eyes and gave an impolite “hmmph” in race coral because they knew my expected finish was slower than them.

    There is a gate to what is what and they are standing at it keeping it free of the riffraff who don’t make the cut. They are slamming it in the faces of the so-called dilettants and hobbyists behind them. If you are gatekeeping or a gatekeeper type of person, just know that there is probably a special gate for folks like you in the afterlife that you might not be able to walk through either. Rant done.

    How does this relate to music and art and all that other stuff?

    My point is just that there are gatekeepers in everything, for every interest, for any craft, profession, sport, talent, skill, whatever. There will always be those that stand with their hands up and out to tell everyone behind them in acquiring those skills or training those abilities, that to be lesser than the gatekeeper makes one a lesser: overall it makes one merely a hobbyist or a dilettant.

    And on the other side, there will be many more who lend a hand, reach backwards to teach or share knowledge, to build community and extend interest in the field. Game trains the next wave of game, as it were.

    But Brad, you say, one could argue that the label is a little more subtle than raw acheivement. Maybe it is more than gatekeeping on quantifiable ability, right? Maybe there is a vibe associated with hobbyism or being called out as a dilettant. An unseriousness. The dabbler is the guy who is knocking on the walls of the clubhouse trying to get in, but is more interested in the label than the skill. They want to call themselves a runner, but only so they can post race pics on social media. They want to be called an artist but don’t even try to cultivate a style or signature. They desire to fill a chair in a band so they can invite people to watch, but don’t pick up their instrument between concerts to put in the rigor of practice required to hone the talent. What do we make of these people? Are the gatekeepers among us correct in locking the door to folks like that?

    As a certified hobbyist I can tell you that people who are truly terrible and trying to infiltrate a field of art or expertise for giggles and false cred are probably rare exceptions, possibily crafty sociopaths, and there are likely more signs of their unseriousness than simply weak ass skills in a field. 

    What I can also tell you is that more often the apparent unseriousness of a hobbyist is likely due to an extremely high barrier to entry in this modern achievement-based online world. Someone just learning art is never going to be as talented as 95% of the posts in their feed. Someone working full time and trying to train for a marathon on the weekends is never going to beat the twenty-two year old with a track scholarship who is training his ass off and earning the world records.  Someone who picked up an instrument at forty and can only get lessons from instructors used to teaching eight year olds while juggling family life is almost definitely never going to perform in the city’s premier symphony.

    We need to give these folks a break and simply welcome them to the club as people with a shared interest, no?

    As noted, I have been dabbling in one of my hobbies again: music. I have steered my summer into trying to build up my personal knowledge of musical theory and composition, including improvisation and sound design. I haven’t put down my violin, of course, but I have poked the bear of electronic synths and all the complex terminology and methodology around them.  My first blush at this popular but enigmatic field, tho, has been one of the steepest barriers to entry I have encountered in a while. There are countless jargon-laden explanations of the technical features of these tools but when it comes to using them to create music the most common piece of advice I have found is “just play around until you find your sound”—which, of course, is like me telling a new runner just to lace up and jog around until they get faster, find a race and win it. 

    I  have been doing art for most of my life, but when I got interested in watercolours a few years ago I quickly found colour theory tutorials, advice on layering paints, books on technique with endless examples and exercises, and of course classes at the local community centre. 

    When I started running, I joined a run club and learned about gear and training schedules and went for speed training sessions and hill training sessions and got into cross training with friends. 

    “Just play around” was on the table, but was never the whole buffet.  

    I wouldn’t necessarily think of this lack of resources as gatekeeping, but there is a kind of exclusivity to entry that resembles gatekeeping when a hobby, any hobby, doesn’t reach back a hand to pull the dilettants in the direction of something more. 

    I resist the label dilittant, not because it wrong or I am above it, but because it implies an unwelcomeness to some secret club. Far be it from me to judge an entire community based on my week of experience looking for the front door, banging on the walls and asking how do I get inside, how do I learn, how to I get better guys?!  I aspire to rise above and hone skills but I definitely doubt I will get there by dabbling and just “playing around” as it were. 

    For now, it will not disuade me from the effort—and maybe for some that is the whole point, to create a barrier to keep the field small and pure—but as a guy who has done his best to elevate others in fields where I do excel, where I am less likely to be kept from passing the closed gate, I have been the one reaching back to train and pull people along so I naively hope and assume that every field, every art, every sport, every endeavor of creativity or skill has people like that—one just needs to find them—and too, resist the label to keep at it.

    Hobbification is not a bug, after all, it’s a feature of a strong system and the key to bringing new people and new talent on board. And I honestly think that any field worthy of study or interest has reached maturity when it recognizes this and says sure, just “play around” but we’re here when you need to take the next step. 

  • hiragana two

    Our plans to leap over the Pacific are become more real with each passing day, and my progress in dabbling in acquiring at least some Japanese language prior to that trip is progressing with promise.

    Sorta.

    Fluency? Heck no.

    But I am hopeful that I won’t be completely overwhelmed by even simple basics in a radically foreign country (for us, anyhow) by the time we step off that plane.

    For an English-speaking middle-aged guy who was never very good at spoken languages, Japanese has been something of a new yet familiar challenge. I have been using a multi-pronged approach that includes flash cards, Duolingo, online resources and eating large amounts of sushi. The last one probably isn’t helping much, if I’m honest… but I only half contest that because our local sushi place does use hiragana on their menu and it really does lightly boost my confidence as I start to recognize the characters better with each passing visit.

    I also forced myself into a tougher difficulty setting on Duolingo when I just recently realized I could shut off the Romanised hints in the lessons and force myself to start thinking in the hiragana characters and not just the English-like phenomes.

    None of this is an endorsement for Duolingo. I just happened to have an account and I just happened to get it for a student discount because I was registered in University.

    My take on the whole do-it-yourself, language-in-a-can approach is of course, and has always really been, one of cautious skepticism. I’ve generally been poor at languages because ranked in order I would often put my personal verbal communications skills near the bottom of my list, even in English. I won’t say I’m bad at it, but I am much better at writing and visual communication methods. I’m also a bit of an introvert, and as much as I would hesitate to ever use that as an excuse for any kind of failure to participate, I do admit that I am less inclined to strike up conversations in general… and significantly less inclined to strike up conversations in a second language. It’s just a personal quirk that I should probably get over and work on, to be honest. But to that whole point, sitting on the couch and talking to my phone, and getting frustrated because my pronunciation is either wildly off or the speech recognition is weak or maybe I’m just not learning how to talk with Japanese words is something that I do put squarely on my methodology and thus on the effectiveness of these little language lesson services. They are better than nothing, I admit, but by how much I’m yet to be sure.

    That is to say, I could probably learn much better passable Japanese by signing up for a course and being forced to talk to strangers in a classroom a few nights per week than I can ever hope to learn by unlocking little digital badges and gaming the game that I downloaded on my phone.

    And ALL of that is to tell you that what I am actually really feeling good about learning through this app is the written portion of the exam: the hiragana. I probably can’t speak well enough to be understood, and my brain locks up when I try to listen to a spoken phrase and damned if I can remember more than a few dozen words of vocabulary BUT I have started to get my mind around the character set.

    The Wife is in the narrowing of date options phase of trip planning. It may sound slightly insane but our trip window now hinges on the ride maintenance schedule at Tokyo Disneyland. Really. But it seems like we’ll be seeking a pair of seats to Tokyo before the year is out, and that is super-exciting.

    And if nothing else, at least I’ll be able to order us some tea when we arrive.

  • about all the little details.

    As Ferris Beuller wisely reminded us, life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

    I spend a lot of time rushing. And this shortcoming often applies to my painting, as well.

    Of course, one of the so-called rules of watercolour painting that I picked up on early on in my artistic efforts was that in watercolour timing is gosh darn nearly everything. Almost every technique and method somehow relates to the timing of the application of the paint mixture onto the surface during a window of time while there is a certain moisture level on the paper or a particular dryness of the last application or at a very specific moment of diffusion of pigments. Timing can change the final look of a piece dramatically. Vibrancy comes from precision.

    Another of course, because of course, I mistook timing for speed.

    That is to say, I have had this knot in my brain as I reach for my brush to put paint onto the page that precision timing was all about being fast and efficient. I got tangled up in the notion that one wet the page and then zip-zap-zooey one flung the paint around in a glorious way, without hesitation, to create the perfect piece of art. I foolishly thought it was about racing the evaporation of the water.

    And sometimes it is.

    But usually it is not.

    I have learned, slowly, that in fact is goes a lot more like this: some artists are not so much good because they are fast, some artists are fast because they are good.

    short backwards strokes

    Last fall I realized that there was a certain beauty to be found in boundless intracacy. In the details. I dug into the art of sketching backwards from where I usually started. Usually, I would draw the shape of the whole then work inwards to elaborate on the details. A building would materialize as a box on the horizon and then the doors, windows, eaves, ledges, bricks and more would fill in the inside as if I was colouring inside the lines. A tree would begin as a silhouette and then I would scribble in the leaves and the branches and the shadows and all the internal shapes to make it more tree-like.  But taking that backwards, a building might start as  a valance light fixture on a brick wall that extended outward to fill outwards. A tree might start as a collection of inner branch-like shapes with some details leaves and shadows and then maybe only imply that the tree went beyond that. I think our natural inclination is to show the whole, but the edges of objects are only artificial boundaries we impose on them and in telling their stories through art sometimes its the details that are the most interesting.

    I finished the last week of the latest watercolour course just the other night and the instructor mentioned offhand that sometimes he will work on a painting for months, for a couple hours each session a few times per week. He didn’t outright say it, but it pretty much told us that his best work is slow and methodical.

    My goal for this summer is, I think, to narrow in on the details and slow down.

    When I gifted away a bunch of my painting last chrishmus I got asked repeatedly: how long did it take you to paint this?

    I dunno. I’d reply. Like, an hour.

    The paintings were nice. Simply, but nice. A work of efficiency and speed and, yes, even a bit of proficiency in a small handful of watercolour technique that allowed me to work fast—maybe even forced me to work fast.

    But those paintings were only detailed in as much as the randomness of the techniques I used implied detail. There was beauty in randomness. But the detail did not come from precision or intention, rather it fell out of accident and organic chaos, and was good because I had lightly harnessed that randomness.

    Just like when I had to re-teach myself to draw outwards from detail, I think I need to rethink my painting hangups too. What does it mean to paint the details slowly: to start with the heart of what you want to paint and then wrk outwards, rather that trying to affect the whole of the subject to the page and then fill in the bits and pieces with speed and precision?

    I dunno. But it seems like it’s gonna take a lot longer than an hour.

  • of birches in autumn.

    Summer has flitted by in a whirlwind of action, but not without a lot of paint staining the various papers and notebooks in my house. That’s to say, while I don’t really have an excuse for not posting for two months, it has not been because I have abandoned my art efforts, nor fallen to idleness.

    Autumn has left me inspired, however, and I’ve been out in the trails taking photos, sketching, and generally enjoying the orange-hued palette that nature has provided.

    I will reserve the specifics for future articles here, but I have found a few vibes sitting in the grass on multiple occasions, sketchbook in hand or watercolour paints at the ready, and enjoying some cool-air, low-bug plein air art time.

    I took a long walk through the local dog park and then sat on the ground to paint a low-sun scene of the turning trees.

    I pen-sketched some detailed work of various close-up fall foliage.

    I used tall grasses as a mask to try out a watercolour technique for painting birch trees.

    People always come by. People always look at what some guy is doing sitting on the ground with a notebook. People sometimes ask, sometimes sneak a peek, sometimes are obviously not sure.

    It’s been a blast.

    technique reps

    In my minds-eye I have a picture of bold and tall birch trees with their pale hued bark with scratches of deep brown and black making distinctive styles set against a pattern of fall foliage. My idea was to mask off the trees, paint the foliage, unmask and then paint the tree detail. Simple, right? On my sixth iteration I got closest to that minds-eye picture, but in each of the six repetitions of basically the same painting I did a little something right and a little something not-quite-right. If I was being methodical about my art study I'd do this more often: paint something. Then paint it again. And again. And as many times as it took to get what I thought it should be.  Because I've done some pretty respectable work this week and it's largely down to persistence and reps.

    Over the past weekend I got hung up on the idea of birch trees in the autumn. If I was attempting realism then the complexity of stark white trees set against a spectrum of fall foliage would be a considerable challenge. But there is a bit of the scene of birch trees, bare as they are in their mid-sections, where they stand out stark and crisp against a backdrop of colours, and after six repetitions of the same subject I’d started to get a feel for what the colours, layers and shadows should look like.

    So after a summer of painting and practice, it all came down to birch trees.

    Over and over and over again.

    Winter is coming and idleness will fill the cold spaces and I’ll be looking back to my summer of painting adventures with envy at the opportunities I had and a little bitterness at the opportunities I missed.

    But I am sure glad it’s still autumn for a few more days.

  • of transcending realities.

    While everyone else is lamenting the creep of artificial intelligence into our lives, I took a different tactic and asked ChatGTP for some advice on how to become a time travelling, intergalactic artist.

    She told me the following

    A time-travelling artist would have a unique perspective and the ability to draw inspiration from various eras and cultures throughout history. Their art would likely reflect a fusion of different styles, techniques, and themes from different time periods. Here are a few possibilities:

    Temporal Collages: The artist might create intricate collages that combine images, symbols, and motifs from different historical periods. They could juxtapose Renaissance figures with futuristic elements or mix ancient hieroglyphics with modern typography, creating visually stunning compositions that bridge the gaps between time.

    Anachronistic Portraits: The artist could paint portraits of individuals or characters from different time periods, placing them in unexpected contexts. For example, they might depict a medieval knight wearing futuristic armor or a Victorian lady using a smartphone. These portraits would challenge conventional notions of time and invite viewers to question their assumptions.

    Time-Lapse Sculptures: Using various materials and techniques, the artist could create sculptures that convey the passage of time. They might craft a piece that starts with a primitive form and gradually transforms into a contemporary or futuristic design, showcasing the evolution of artistic styles and cultural influences over time.

    Chronological Installations: A time-travelling artist might construct immersive installations that take viewers on a journey through time. They could recreate iconic historical settings or architectural wonders, incorporating interactive elements that allow visitors to experience different eras firsthand. Through these installations, the artist would blur the boundaries between past, present, and future.

    Time-Based Performance Art: The artist could engage in performances that involve temporal manipulation. They might use multimedia techniques, such as projections or virtual reality, to transport audiences to different time periods or simulate time travel experiences. These performances would be a fusion of theater, visual art, and technological innovation.

    Ultimately, the kind of art a time-traveling artist would create is limited only by their imagination and their ability to explore and assimilate artistic expressions from various points in time.

    Art that transcends multiple dimensions of reality would be highly conceptual and abstract, challenging traditional notions of space, time, and perception. It would explore the boundaries of our understanding and offer glimpses into realms beyond our immediate senses. Here are a few possible manifestations of such art:

    Multidimensional Sculptures: The artist could create sculptures that go beyond the three-dimensional realm, incorporating additional dimensions into their designs. These sculptures might have intricate geometries, impossible shapes, or paradoxical structures that suggest the existence of hidden dimensions.

    Hyperdimensional Paintings: Using a combination of techniques, the artist could create paintings that convey a sense of depth and movement across multiple dimensions. They might incorporate optical illusions, fractal patterns, or distorted perspectives to evoke a feeling of traversing different realities.

    Augmented Reality Installations: The artist could merge physical and digital realities by incorporating augmented reality (AR) technology into their installations. Viewers wearing AR devices or using smartphones could interact with virtual objects and creatures that exist in parallel dimensions, blurring the boundaries between the real and the imagined.

    Quantum-inspired Art: Drawing inspiration from quantum physics and the strange phenomena it describes, the artist could create artworks that explore concepts like superposition, entanglement, and wave-particle duality. These artworks might incorporate elements of randomness, uncertainty, and indeterminacy to challenge our perception of reality.

    Mind-Bending Visual Experiences: Through the use of advanced projection techniques, lighting effects, and immersive environments, the artist could create experiences that manipulate perception and transport viewers to altered states of consciousness. These experiences might involve illusions of infinite space, shifting dimensions, or non-Euclidean geometries.

    The art that transcends multiple dimensions of reality would aim to push the boundaries of human understanding and challenge our preconceived notions of what is possible. It would invite viewers to contemplate the mysteries of existence and open their minds to new possibilities beyond the constraints of our everyday experiences.

    An intergalactic sketch artist would have a vast universe of inspiration at their fingertips. Their art would reflect the diversity and wonders of different galaxies, celestial phenomena, and extraterrestrial life forms. Here are a few possibilities for the kind of art an intergalactic sketch artist might create:

    Alien Portraits: The artist could sketch detailed and imaginative portraits of extraterrestrial beings from various planets and civilizations. These portraits would capture the unique features, anatomy, and characteristics of these alien life forms, showcasing their diversity and otherworldly beauty.

    Cosmic Landscapes: The intergalactic sketch artist might create breathtaking sketches of cosmic landscapes, capturing the grandeur of nebulae, star clusters, and distant galaxies. These sketches could convey the ethereal colors, swirling formations, and celestial phenomena that exist in the vastness of space.

    Intergalactic Travel Scenes: The artist could sketch scenes of spacecraft and interstellar travel, depicting futuristic vessels navigating through wormholes, traversing asteroid belts, or landing on distant planets. These sketches would evoke a sense of adventure, exploration, and the vastness of the cosmos.

    Interactions with Alien Cultures: The artist might depict scenes of intercultural encounters between humans and alien species. These sketches could showcase the exchange of ideas, technologies, and perspectives, bridging the gaps between different civilizations and fostering a sense of intergalactic unity.

    Abstract Cosmic Concepts: The intergalactic sketch artist might explore abstract concepts related to the nature of the universe, such as wormholes, black holes, quantum physics, or multiverse theories. Through their sketches, they could visually represent these complex ideas in a captivating and thought-provoking manner.

    Extraterrestrial Fauna and Flora: The artist could sketch extraordinary and alien plant and animal life forms that inhabit distant planets. These sketches would push the boundaries of imagination, presenting bizarre and fantastical creatures that thrive in unique ecosystems beyond Earth.

    Galactic Mythologies and Symbols: The intergalactic sketch artist might create sketches that depict the mythologies and symbols of different extraterrestrial civilizations. These sketches could showcase the rich narratives, legends, and belief systems that shape the cultural fabric of these alien worlds.

    The art of an intergalactic sketch artist would offer a glimpse into the vastness and diversity of the cosmos, transporting viewers to realms beyond our own. It would spark curiosity, ignite the imagination, and inspire a sense of wonder about the possibilities that exist beyond our home planet.

    ....so, that's something to think about, huh?