about empty stomachs

This is what Finnish artist Sasha Tiainen wrote as an accompanying comment to one of her pictures:

...I dunno if I like the result or not. Mainly not, I presume. The picture even looks little bit unfinished, but I just didn't have patience to work on it any longer.

Here are my own thoughts on creating work.

First, there is the beginning of an idea: an image, a tone of voice, a melody, a shape, a feeling, whatever inspires you. Then there's the conceit, the treatment of the idea. Then there's the putting together of the initial framework, a period of experimenting to find the right path to revealing that image, shape, melody, feeling etcetera. And all this takes a while. And then, finally, there's the making of the thing itself. And if the work means something to you, then the making is probably going to be torturous.

I don't mean that its unpleasant, only that it's... challenging. For one, you're always failing. What you see in your head never really emerges intact, because the whole process of creation is alive. The work-in-progress is constantly being fed by everything you're consuming and experiencing, and at once the work itself is affecting how you look at the rest of Creation. There's dialogue happening inside you, between the work and the world. What emerges finally is the result of an ongoing negotiation between your imagination and practical reality (your body included). It's hard work for me, and inevitably the process has taken from me in ways I never expected. But it's also taken me to places I'd never known.

We've been carrying Taramandal for a while, and Taramandal has carried us. All work that's ever meant anything to me has been exhausting and torturous and altering. In fact, the precedent has been so convincing that if something isn't difficult, I find it awkward to think of it as significant. What I've discovered over the last nine months is that to be able to do this play, we have had to grow. We have had to become good enough for our imaginations. And perhaps now we're good enough to start preparing this play, although I doubt it. I think we have more growing to do, but I'm not frightened of failing. Because it's not about talent or vision or inspiration (although perhaps those things matter as well).

It's about empty stomachs, let's say. We've been carrying this play in our pockets so long, we're ravenous for the adulation of audiences. The more starved we are, the harder we work.

This is Sasha Tiainen's painting. I think it's quite good, but that's irrelevant. I think about what it's like for artists and painters - and I know nothing about what it's like for them - but practically speaking, I imagine that there's care and thought that goes into the smallest details. And once a layer of work is complete, it needs time to settle before the next layer goes on and so on and so forth. Working alone, there must be an effort to stay engaged, on course, honest. Getting it right can be stressful, because ultimately you're answering to something ineffable that doesn't tell you what to do, only whether it approves or disapproves. Getting it right is torturous. And I have nothing but admiration for volunteers.

If you want to see more of Sasha Tiainen's work, visit http://sashatiainen.deviantart.com/