Figuring out the prize

On why artistry is connected to athleticism

Offline Recess is a newsletter that invites you to pause from digital distractions and rediscover the joy of finding inspiration on your own terms, away from the algorithm.

A quick summary: It’s Sunday and today we’re exploring:

  • Why stamina matters when making something from nothing

  • Five ideas that could influence our offline recess this week

  • How both surrealism and pink dolphins have kept me feeling curious

I did not have anyone edit this so if you see a typo, be relieved that I’m a human and not a robot.

Intersections

things that are connecting during my recess

Over the past week I started drawing connections between artistry and athleticism. Anne Helen Petersen writes about coming into athleticism later in adulthood. It’s something I resonate a lot with. I was not a sports gal1 and I carried that with me into my 30s. I started to lift heavy a couple of years ago and, in retrospect, can draw lines between my first 30 years as a natural and trained artist and my ability to squat more than my body weight. The obvious connections: practice and get a lot of reps in. 

But I wanted to take this idea further. If you do a quick search, you learn that the word athlete comes from words that translate to “competing for a prize.” The more modern definition notes that athletes require physical strength, agility, and stamina.”

Stamina!

I’ve been reading a lot about people who make art. The idea of stamina is woven between every idea, word, and interview. Artists are consumed by their work: they can’t shake it, they doubt, they feel stuck, they’re haunted. But they keep going. These quotes stuck out to me:

“...Successful creators do not give up, even when the thwarting seems insurmountable. Fundamentally, though they would rarely admit it, optimistic — deep down they believed the work would emerge, even if it would require a lot of torture to get there.”

Adam Moss

“Art is always endurance.”

Tony Kushner

“There's a question of — I guess I'll call it athleticism. Will your hand actually do the thing that you have in your mind? 2

Michael Cunningham

“I just started making a drawing with my feet because I had sat down to make a drawing, and I was like I can’t trust this hand not to make something very obvious, that we already know.”

Kara Walker

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about those last two quotes and this idea that an artist has to align both their brain/imagination/heart with their hands. If I can see the outcome in my head after closing my eyes, can my right hand actually bring that to life? Sometimes. Other times, no. 

And that, in my opinion, is stamina exercised. I will keep trying over prolonged periods of time to get it “right.” And that, I think, is the prize.

Take A Break

things we could do this week for our offline recess
  1. Try drawing or painting on the ground. No easel or desk or drafting table needed. Or with your non-dominate hand. Get out of your own comforts. You get it.

  2. Ask all of your friends to share their current favorite song and make a playlist. Title it with the month and year. Do it again next month. Evolution in the form of digital mixed tapes. Take it one step further: share it with everyone.

  3. Use an app like Opal to block specific apps on a specific day of the week. I’m doing this today for the first time. I’m blocking YouTube, Reddit, Instagram, and TikTok.

  4. Check out your local theater and see what’s coming up. Buy tickets for a future evening. If you go, you’ll get something from it. Even if you bail, you’ll have enjoyed the anticipation of going. Both are okay.

  5. Think of your favorite show, movie, book, poem, piece of artwork and commit to learning how it was made. Even the smallest fun fact can make you appreciate it more.

Happen Upon

things I re/discover offline, outside of the algorithm

As I read, go offline, and take my own recess, I encounter a lot of media or concepts that I want to explore. I think these lists that I’m creating are so different (and hold a different weight) than things I bookmark from an algorithmic3 recommendation. I mentioned this in last week’s email but it comes down to the fact that the odds of me liking it are slim. It’s a bit of a risk. Here’s what I discovered (and sometimes rediscovered) and enjoyed:

  • I recently met someone who has seen Amazon river dolphins (pink dolphins) and I had so much fun reading about them.

  • Rediscovered my love of René Magritte’s work. AI artwork will try but could never.

Realism can bore me so surrealism is what lights me up.

  • And how much I love Raoul Dufy’s work as well. He most likely subconsciously affected how I like to illustration despite not looking at his work in decades.

The color. The mess and the order. Speaks to my soul. So much of what inspires my own work.

  • I read an interview with Moses Sumney and his song Doomed (which is another favorite of mine that I had recently forgotten). I could listen to this song over and over and over. Chills every time. I’m lifted by the falsetto.

Footnotes:
1 I dabbled in basketball in 5th grade and I was a cheerleader in 8th. Cheerleading in junior high may not sound high stakes but our coaches were college cheerleaders and had me as a flyer. Extensions terrified me both for the height and the fact that my fellow classmates were my bases. I’m sweating just thinking about it. I remember my coach saying, “You look terrified. Don’t forget to smile.” Easier said than done.
2 Michael also says, "You always have a better book in mind than you're able to write. And one of the things you have to be able to do, if you're going to write novels, is survive that discrepancy between the book you were able to write and the better book you imagined." Oof, yes.
3 When I say the algorithm, I really mean “this thing that’s created by humans with the intent to track and learn from me.” Yes, it’s often tied to profit. It usually yields really great finds: brands that sell things I’m looking to purchase, music that’s similar to music I already love, and writings that make the rounds within the choir that I subconsciously joined.

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