Tag Archives: Optimism

Research

hug it out!

Making exhibitions requires a lot of teamwork, so I’ve been practicing sharing epic high-fives. Just the other day, K, R and I shared a spinning jump triple. That momentary gesture turned a feeling of mild accomplishment into floaty elation.

In “Evidence That Little Touches Do Mean So Much,” (NYTimes.com, February 22, 2010) Benedict Carey examines the psychology and neuroscience of meaningful touches.

Momentary touches, [researchers] say — whether an exuberant high five, a warm hand on the shoulder, or a creepy touch to the arm — can communicate an even wider range of emotion than gestures or expressions, and sometimes do so more quickly and accurately than words….

“We used to think that touch only served to intensify communicated emotions,” Dr. [Matthew] Hertenstein [a psychologist at DePauw University in Indiana] said. Now it turns out to be “a much more differentiated signaling system than we had imagined.

As an artist working with installation and phenomenology, I’m really interested in embodied experiences. As Lakoff & Johnson explain in “Metaphors We Live By,” metaphors are not merely linguistic devices, but cognitive tools; we think using metaphors grounded in our physical experience.

High-fives express shared excitement or accomplishment (“Nice one!”). It conveys that this experience is good, and yay for sharing it with me. It is harmless hedonism, of taking pleasure in the present. It’s dorky, hip, sweet, and maybe a little ironic, but maybe also infused with feel-good, unabashed enthusiasm (like Ugo Rodinone’s “Hell Yes!”). I hope I never feel too old to share a high-five.

As usual, I’d like to participate in an art world characterized by community and reciprocity. Supportive touches express mutuality; maybe more curators, artists, critics and collectors should be hugging it out.

…In the brain, prefrontal areas, which help regulate emotion, can relax, freeing them for another of their primary purposes: problem solving. In effect, the body interprets a supportive touch as “I’ll share the load.”

“We think that humans build relationships precisely for this reason, to distribute problem solving across brains,” said James A. Coan, a a psychologist at the University of Virginia. “We are wired to literally share the processing load, and this is the signal we’re getting when we receive support through touch.”

Carey also quotes Dacher Keltner, a professor of psychology at the University of California, Berkeley, and the author of “Born to Be Good: The Science of a Meaningful Life.” Incidentally, Keltner’s mentor was San Francisco psychologist Paul Ekman, who was profiled by Malcolm Gladwell in an eye-opening article about emotions and facial expressions (“The Naked Face,” New Yorker, 2002). If you’ve heard of the wide, genuine, impossible-to-fake Duchenne smile, then you’ve been touched by Ekman’s influence.

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Values

Thank you for showing me what not to do

Ken, my printmaking professor, was great because he’d often demonstrate what not to do. Much of the time, he didn’t do it on purpose. In showing how to clean up an inkwell, for example, he might fumble a putty knife or splash the mineral spirits. But the gaffs were common, and it taught you how to recover when you invariably made the same mistakes. More importantly, Ken’s teaching was infused with kindness and good humor, and his unconventional ways were ultimately effective and valuable.

I am a big proponent of artists setting goals and identifying role models: Who do you look up to and why? Are they successful? Happy? Do they treat people around them well? Do they look like they’re having fun? Identifying and answering these questions for yourself helps to shape a vision for the kind of life in the arts that you want to lead.

On occasion, there are opportunities to identify negative traits and behaviors that you would not like to emulate. Perhaps these come courtesy of an unscrupulous colleague, who abuses the art field’s unsanctioned nature to claim a status that wasn’t actually gained. Or maybe a supervisor whose treatment of colleagues is unethical or morale-killing.

I choose to view the art world as a series of communities populated by bright, hard-working individuals who are in it because they appreciate art and want to share their enthusiasm. There are, unfortunately, unsavory individuals who would prove me wrong.

In the book “Why Smart Executives Fail,” Sydney Finkelstein, of Dartmouth, observes that “spectacularly unsuccessful” people (mere failure doesn’t qualify; you have to wreak havoc and ruin lives) have certain traits in common. These people see themselves and their companies as “dominating their environments.” They demand total allegiance and have the answer to every problem. (James Surowiecki, “Local Zeroes,” New Yorker, March 28, 2005)

These people are exceptional. It’s up to the rest of us to minimize the damage they do, and to defend the perception of artists, arts workers and the art field. We do that by upholding our values, and being vigilant, accountable, and optimistic.

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Art & Development

the unreasonable optimist

“Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen.”

–Conan O’Brien (by way of M)

Sergio De La Torre
Sergio De La Torre, “(Don Bergfors) Waiting for Gabriel Orozco, San Diego Airport,” from the series “10 Artists, 10 Drivers, 10 Cities,” 2005-07, work in progress, C-Print photograph, 2005-07 (Image source: Emergency Biennial)

Is having a life in the arts like marriage? Psychologist John Gottman has found that a key indicator of successful marriages is not how well you and your partner get along, but how well you make up after a fight. Maybe a more telling indicator for a successful life in the arts is how well you stay engaged when opportunities are lean and rejections rife. Clearly talent and capacity are necessary, but so are resilience and the ability to recover efficiently from disappointments.

I’ve been doing my part in “collecting no’s” — sending out lots of applications to competitions and residencies, and getting an equal amount of rejections. This week, I received the equivalent of a light petting followed by a heavy slap. It was a rejection/commendation combination: I was informed that my application to a residency program was among the top 50 out of 570 applications. That means my application was among the top 8%. Unfortunately, the committee could award only 4 residencies, which comprises less than 1% of all applications. Put another way, only 1 out of 142 applicants were successful.

Those are harsh odds. And yet I have to recover, stay optimistic, and keep trying. I don’t believe that I’m entitled to anything because I’m an artist and artists are special. I don’t believe that art patrons are obligated to make my life easier. I think crybaby artists — who elevate the value of their work over others’ — play into horrible myths that further alienate the public from enjoying and participating in art.

Still, I’d love to see more deserving art recognized. This means there need to be more art opportunities for more artists, rather than the current state of hyper-stratification, which is sort of like the concentration of wealth in this country: there’s the top 6% of biennial-circuit Hirsts, Cattelans, Tirivanijas and the other 94% of us. Like Sergio De La Torre’s brilliant series of performance photographs, “10 Artists, 10 Drivers, 10 Cities” (2005-07, work in progress), there’s a futility and misdirection in waiting for art stars (who never arrive). Life, and art, go on without them.

I don’t want to be rich and famous. I want to be respected, and for the quality of my work to be acknowledged. I want to be just, and to love and be loved. I want to have a lifelong practice. I’ll admit, a detached studio in a French chateau would be sweet, but ultimately I’d be happy with being happy: having a satisfying art practice, the esteem of my work and ideas by rigorous colleagues and institutions equipped to share and archive them, and the time and flexibility to enjoy my family and environs.

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Art & Development

optimism and pessimism

I am opposed to false dichotomies (who isn’t), and there are times when I think artists’ embrace of ambiguity is a bit wishy-washy (obsessions man v. nature, nature v. technology, interstitial spaces, etc), but I do think optimism and pessimism is a rich terrain, and much more than a mere duality.

The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposing ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function. One should, for example, be able to see that things are hopeless yet be determined to make them otherwise.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald

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Art & Development

Art and Recession: Outlooks

Following Holland Cotter’s “The Boom is Over. Long Live Art!” (NYTimes.com, February 12, 2009), several more articles on the intersection of art and recession have cropped up.

Overly-optimistic authors suggest that a recession can be good for art and creativity.

In “Creative buds can bloom in a recession,” (Sydney Morning Herald, March 16, 2009), Marcus Westbury reiterates one of Cotter’s vague predictions:

[In a recession, artists] can daydream and concentrate. They can make nothing for a while, or make something and make it wrong, and fail in peace, and start again. (Cotter)

Higher levels of unemployment can mean that talent has more time to experiment and innovate… (Westbury)

I don’t know how other people feel about being unemployed, but I find being on a tight budget oppressive, not liberating. While I might have once romanticized Dumpster-diving as a rejection of over-consumption in my youth, I no longer idealize the “poetry of poverty” (author Marlon James on Studio 360), or subsidizing my practice with credit card debt.

So it grates, because when unemployment figures for the general public rise, politicians, the media and the public are obsessed with the stress, risk and instability. But these writers suggest that artists enjoy a magical, innate virtue that transforms penury into dreamy studio lives, with few consequences — financial, professional or personal — to pay.

In “Getting creative to survive” (Philadelphia Inquirer, March 4, 2009), Melanie Cox McCluskey wrote about creative agencies:

Being inventive comes in handy in a bad economy, and creative people are finding solutions to sluggish times. They are taking on every project that comes along.

Wrong! For a creative agency to accept every job that comes through the door — even if the client or project is a bad fit for the agency — is not being creative. It’s being desperate and financially conservative.

I think these authors are overestimating the power of creative traits like flexibility and spontaneity. As Philip Zimbardo and John Boyd explain in “The Time Paradox” (Rider, 2008), these traits are helpful in art-making, but they are present-oriented. And too much present-orientation can lead to imbalance and unhappiness:

In a society that is politically and economically unstable, you cannot predict the future from the vantage of the present…. Political and economic instability also causes instability within families…. The less people can rely on the promises of government, institutions, and families, the more they eschew the future and focus on the present, creating a world of yes and no, black and white, is and is not, rather than one filled with maybes, contingencies, and probabilities.

Zimbardo and Boyd advocate a more balanced time-perspective, which includes healthy past- and future-orientation. Planning for the future is related to hope, ambition, health, well-being and a sense of personal efficacy.

I think these realist writers, who argue that artist’s already-fragile positions become more vulnerable in a recession, would agree.

Charles Fleming, “For artists, the picture is bleak.” Los Angeles Times. March 10, 2009.

Matthew Shaer. “Artists in survival mode as market crumbles.” Christian Science Monitor. March 13, 2009.

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Despite their optimism, it seems like Cotter, Westbury and McClusky believe that artists belong at society’s margins, where they can happily make work in spite of dire economic circumstances.

I differ.

Instead of encouraging artists to espouse scarcity and self-sacrifice from the margins, I’d rather see artists expressing leadership and generosity from the center. Professionalizing and de-marginalizing artists inspires good ethics, values, and sense of agency.

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Research, Travelogue

Fareed Zakaria’s The Post-American World

Global economic collapse.
The quagmire in Iraq.
Anti-American sentiment.
China, the sleeping dragon, asserting itself.

There are so many geopolitical reasons to be anxious, afraid and pessimistic. Like many Americans, I’ve been feeling a foreboding sense of decline. In The Post-American World, Fareed Zakaria* argues that America will not be the same kind of lone superpower it has been, but we have many reasons to be optimistic. Indeed, he posits that if the US faces the coming challenges with cooperation and adaptability, we can help shape a secure, prosperous post-American world.

The post-American world is “not about the decline of America but rather about the rise of everyone else,” Zakaria writes. Globalization and rising economic powers means that past paradigms (“integrate with the Western order, or reject it”) no longer apply. As he puts it, “The world is moving from anger to indifference, from Anti-Americanism to post-Americanism.” China and India are becoming major players. They will work to secure their interests and expand their influence. It’s not that the American share of the pie will get smaller, but the pie itself will get bigger.

After all of the boosterism, accusations, and cynical “othering” around the 2008 Beijing Olympics, I found Zakaria’s perspectives on China quite refreshing. China’s rapid growth has caused some Americans to fear China as an evil, inscrutable state. But Zakaria argues that the Chinese government is not intentionally malicious — its major priority has been non-confrontational economic growth, which has lifted millions out of poverty in the past 30 years. Furthermore, Chinese manufacturing flourishes, but it’s not a threat to America yet, as Americans are good at innovation and adding value. We benefit from the high profit areas of development and retail/marketing.

Innovation, of course, is key to growth, and growth is more critical for future success than wealth. For example, when Europe was reeling from the Black Plague, China could have led the world in discovery and innovation. Instead, it closed itself off, and disregarded new technologies.

Another country that paid a dear price for failing to innovate is Great Britain. It was known as the world’s workshop in the 19th century, but failed to compete against U.S. innovation in the 20th century.

But America is different; our economy demonstrates unique advantages. Even though “The Post-American World” was published before the mortgage crisis led to bank collapses, I suspect that the author would still maintain his optimistic views. Despite all our problems, the U.S. economy — however weakened — is still the largest in the world (comprising a quarter of the world’s G.D.P.).

There’s our “demographic vibrance.” As Zakaria points out, “Europe presents the most significant short-term challenge to the U.S. in the economic realm,” but Europe’s population is declining, and unlike the US, it is reluctant to allow and assimilate immigrants. Zakaria asserts, “America’s edge in innovation is overwhelmingly a product of immigration” and “this is what sets this country apart from the experience of Britain and all other historical examples of great powers.”

Then there’s our technology and innovation. Zakaria dispels the myth that our students are outperformed by foreign counterparts. The averaged statistics mislead (or rather, they reveal the inequality in our schools). Still, many of the top universities are located in the U.S., which attract top talents from around the world. We should retain them, too, instead of implement regressive immigration policies.

Unlike Great Britain, whose biggest challenge in maintaining its superpower was economic, Zakaria argues that America’s biggest challenge is political. He says that the post-American world will be multi-polar world. America can help this world be prosperous and stable by taking an active role, guided by principles of cooperation, consultation and compromise. The U.S. can’t make exceptions for itself when it comes to rules like nuclear weapons. The U.S. can’t solve all the world’s problems, but some larger problems, like climate change, require an organizer, and only if the U.S. maintains great relationships with all countries, can it be a successful facilitator. The U.S. must stop cowering in fear from terrorists (and overreacting to them), asserting its military might when diplomacy would do, re-gain its confidence, become open and inviting again, and re-gain legitimacy.

I think Zakaria is saying: It’s not only possible, but necessary, to approach the future with optimism.

Will America be optimistic, and take these steps towards mutual respect and collaboration? I hope so. Next on my optimism/pessimism reading list: Barack Obama’s Dreams of My Father.

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*A note about ideology: I think Zakaria makes many valid points grounded in research, reason and pragmatism. This should be adequate grounds for discussing his ideas; I hope ideology doesn’t get in the way of discourse. Some progressives may not find Zakaria sufficiently leftist, but I think that’s a poor reason for discrediting his work. I value his rigor in making clear, persuasive arguments. For example, when John McCain threw a Hail Mary and nominated Sarah Palin (and successfully galvanized the right), it seemed like lefties couldn’t recover from the sheer audacity. They hysterically bashed Palin amongst themselves, instead of responding productively and bringing the conversation back to real issues. So when Fareed Zakaria published an editorial articulating why Palin is bad for America, I took note.]

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Book Review by Josef Joffe, NYTimes

FareedZakaria.com

Excerpt, Newsweek

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Research

Eigengrau: your default desktop color

Even in the absence of light, we do not perceive total darkness. Maybe humans are intrinsically optimistic?
From http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eigengrau, accessed August 16, 2008:

Eigengrau (German: “intrinsic gray”), also called eigenlicht (“intrinsic light”), dark light, or brain gray, is the color seen by the eye in perfect darkness. Even in the absence of light, some action potentials are still sent along the optic nerve, causing the sensation of a uniform dark gray color.

Eigengrau is perceived as lighter than a black object in normal lighting conditions, because contrast is more important to the visual system than absolute brightness. For example, the night sky looks darker than eigengrau because of the contrast provided by the stars.

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