Do you ever wonder how and why people, messages, or ideas seem to find you right at the moment you need them most? I have had this happen to me a lot in the past few months. Ever since I received another karmic kick in the seat from my much beloved publishing industry, I have been searching for a new place to lend my talents and call home. Soul searching is the perfect term for this “time in between.” Yesterday I came across an article and video that just seemed to hit the spot. My favourite curation blog, Brain Pickings, featured an article on author Neil Gaiman and his commencement-speech-turned-book: Make Good Art. At a commencement speech given to students at the Philadelphia University of Arts, Gaiman, in true whimsical fashion, reminded his rapt young audience to give their best in thick and in thin. He calls it making good art:
“When things get tough, this is what you should do: Make good art. I’m serious. Husband runs off with a politician — make good art. Leg crushed and then eaten by a mutated boa constrictor — make good art. IRS on your trail — make good art. Cat exploded — make good art. Someone on the Internet thinks what you’re doing is stupid or evil or it’s all been done before — make good art. Probably things will work out somehow, eventually time will take the sting away, and that doesn’t even matter. Do what only you can do best: Make good art. Make it on the bad days, make it on the good days, too.”
You can listen to his entire speech here. It is well worth the listen, whether you are just starting out in your career, or like me, wondering what to do with your second half. In this “time in between” as I like to call it, I have been wavering between excitement over the sheer range of possibilities open to me, to feeling the lonely sting of disenfranchisement, and all the emotions in between. Luckily, on the hardest days, I encounter folks who are quietly, impressively, inspiringly making not only good art but great art. Today I wanted to share with you three such inspirations who have reminded me that anything is possible.
First, the photo above. In my last post, I introduced you to Grace and Chris Hughes from A Nerd’s World. Their shop on Bathurst is a veritable paean to photography, from the stark black and white family portraits taken with their classic Rolleiflex camera, to the museum-like wall of cameras and hip Kodak signs. On the day I visited, Grace graciously walked me around their shop and told me their story. Their deep love and respect for photography shone the brightest on their wall showcasing photos that she and Chris have developed from the film found within the many classic cameras they have collected over the years. Some date back to the 30’s and 40’s! After the Toronto Star did a piece on them called “A Nerd’s World Reclaims Beguiling Visions of Our Lives from Old Cameras” Chris and Grace have released one picture a week on their site to see if possible owners can identify themselves and tell their story. You can and should read the Toronto Star article here, and see the fantastic found photo collection here. Chris and Grace’s work has reminded me that making good art counts, especially when it tells the beloved stories of our past, and reminds us just how far we have come.
I met my second karmic inspiration yesterday. Two winter’s ago, I met Philip Turner at a gloriously creative publishing gathering in New York, called Book Camp (I wrote about my New York adventure here.) Since then, Philip and I have been keeping in touch in 140 character bursts on Twitter and yesterday we got the chance to catch up in person at a hip little coffee shop near Trinity Bellwoods Park. Philip is in town for the eclectic North By Northeast, and was gracious enough to squeeze in a personal visit between finding and writing about great bands across the city. Philip is my favourite Honourary Canadian. Hailing from south of the border and living now in New York with his family, Philip often writes about Canadian culture on his website, The Great Gray Bridge and CBC Radio 3’s blog. Besides his endearing respect for all things Canuck, Philip shares a love of books and a history of working in the publishing industry. He has recently branched out to follow his instincts and his heart to create a consultancy that allows him the freedom to pursue good work and make great art that speaks to his interests and obvious strengths. On his site, The Great Gray Bridge: Spanning Urban Life, Books, Music, Culture and Current Events, not only can you find his detailed and thoughtful posts on the many NXNE bands he took in this week, but also the books that he has published throughout his career and the important stories that have impacted his life. Yesterday we briefly shared our 9/11 stories and I was touched by Philip’s recounting of that day and the dust-filled 5 hour walk home he had from his work just blocks away from Ground Zero. You can find Philip’s harrowing story here, (I wrote about my experience on the same day here). I feel lucky to have met Philip, if only briefly, as I needed to hear his message. Remember to follow your heart. Do what you love. Make good art!
In the first half of my career, I have been very lucky. I have had the chance to make good art that I hope has made a difference. From a World Religions text-book that shared the message of tolerance through understanding, published just the month prior to 9/11, to a text-book that flipped over with History on one side and Geography on the other (known in Ontario schools as “the flip book“), I have been able to leave behind a legacy of “good art” in schools that reflects my passion and love for educational publishing. But who knows what the future might hold?
On this Father’s Day, I have to thank one last inspiration. My Dad, Jack. Last weekend I had a welcome visit home to visit my parents in Forest. Just as I was pulling my Jeep out of the driveway to make my way back to Toronto, Dad said something that made a world of difference to me in this “time in between.” Rather than the usual “did you check your oil lately?” he waved goodbye and said “Pat, remember, you can do anything.”
Thanks Dad! Happy Father’s Day to you and all the great Dad’s out there! We are lucky to have you in our lives.
I like the “Make good art” injunction, but don’t forget how much amazing good art you make through your photographs? Maybe that’s too obvious? Anyway, I especially like what your dad said–and he’s absolutely right!
M, thanks for this! Appreciated!!