Dear Yabing,
Your thoughts about the difference between Chinese people and North Americans interest me.
You may know that I'm a trained artist. I work in fine art, as opposed to commercial art. I was taught in art school that process is more important than product. And so it is! If one concentrates on product, (that is, to produce a nice piece of work planned in advance,) the work ends up being far less interesting and successful than if you concentrate on process, (having an interesting struggle with, and fun and exploration, and thereby creating a unique piece.)
I work from chaos to order. My canvas or paper is my little world. I am the ruler of that world. It's surprising how true that is. What a metaphor it is for life.
When I begin I don't know where I'm going. I may have some words in mind, or belistening to some kind of music. The first marks are hard to make as they mar the pristine surface. But make one, and that usually begins already to set some kind of structure that will be present in the end.
Work on, adding and subtracting with gusto and freedom, watching to see what is happening. At last there is some area that seems just perfect. I love it. It is beautiful. I don't want to do anything to spoil it, and I try and try to bring the rest of the piece into harmony with it but that is impossible. Finally I decide I must do the hardest thing of all. I must the destroy the cherished area. I destroy it for renewed opportunity to bring the whole back into unity, and to find new processes and further ways to develop it, while working the whole piece at once as I go continue. To unify it I do something drastic that affects the entire surface. Sometimes I've scraped into it. Sometimes I've scrubbed it with a hard brush under running water. Sometimes I've splashed it with paint. Whatever I decide may help to unify the whole.
Sometimes the struggle "to save the piece" becomes quite desperate. I feel I'm losing it and like I may as well give this one up. It really can be traumatic and I'm feeling quite desperate. I'm losing it completely. In front of my kingdom I can go through every kind of emotion. Oddly, it is usually the pieces of work that artists have struggled with the most that are often their most successful, when finally they are brought to a coherent conclusion.
This is somehow like life. It is full of emotion and adventure. It is also like the pursuit of pure science, so far as I can see. From pure science, remarkable things emerge that can't be anticipated in advance. The thing is to enjoy the process and to have a free spirit. Be daring and unafraid.
Your story of someone putting their nose to the grindstone and beavering on in a hated job because it brings good money sounds deadly. Chinese are such incredibly interesting people; so poetic, so determined; so philosophical. I wonder what happens for those of you who decide to live your lives creatively in much of what you do. In order to do this you wouldn't copy the wonders of the past. You need to innovate, building out from those wonders. They which will not be lost to you, even if you don't copy them. You free yourselves to see what will happen, as you find the past in new ways for the present. That is what makes for a truly solid piece of work, or contribution.
What is at the end of the road and over the hill? What is the sea like, or the little lake that you have never seen? Maybe the lake will be unique like the little one we found on a map. On a whim we decided for a little adventure, so we packed some picnic lunch, our tent and the four little kids and set out in our little red VW "Bug" to find "Luther Lake".
What we found was drowned land. Once farmland, it had been flooded for some hydro project, and was now a small lake. Trees lifted stripped bare, stark, dull silvery branches above the gleaming flood. Heavy, shining silvery rain-drops began to drive slanted into the shimmering grey water. The sun was behind us, and almost black rain clouds on the other side formed the perfect backdrop for a beautiful, radiant rainbow, and every splashing drop drove a little explosion of golden spray into the air above the lake. It was one of the most beautiful things we'd ever seen. The kids are adults now but we all remember the sight, and occasionally talk about it. That was a reward for creative living. How many other well- planned trips have we taken that we don't remember? Many.
Enough money is all we need. Not more. Just enough to live well enough. I hope you will allow yourselves to become free enough to follow some trails when you don't know where they will lead. Just to see what will develop. Start with little things and build up. Do you think this is possible? Would you like to try?
Warmly, Mary
