dear friends,
About six years ago, I added “visit art exhibit every week” to my yearly resolutions. The goal was pretty open in its parameters: sometimes I’d wander the hallways of the Met without any aim at all, sometimes I meticulously planned field trips to “important art events,” and once I darted into the Morgan Library for no more than 10 minutes to see a one-room exhibit on Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. I thought I’d keep up this practice for a year, check it off my list, and then move on.
Except, I didn’t.
It’s not that I made the conscious decision to continue this weekly ritual, but as one year became the next and the next, I just kept going. Over the years, I’ve missed a few weeks here and there, because, well … life. But, remarkably, this added item on my weekly to-do list is something I keep returning to.
And as I set off for my field trip this week, I wondered why.
It seems unorthodox, maybe even heretical, to spend your precious limited free time on something that is entirely nonproductive. We live in a world where so much conversation about living well is dominated by metrics borrowed from commerce: productivity, branding, return on investment. Even if you’re among those who intuit that a well-lived life is not the result of a cost-benefit analysis (and if you’re reading this, you probably are), it’s hard to entirely escape the message that if you’re not engaged in something that moves a ball forward in your life, you’re wasting time. It’s as though the goal of human existence is optimization.
Art asks us to question that.
And I think that’s why adding art to our lives can be so transformative. When we stop for a moment to become absorbed in the creative work of another, we’re reminded of our shared humanity across space and time. Even if the work doesn’t resonate with us, we learn about ourselves and the world. We are invited to see through a different set of eyes, to think from another point of view.
So, here’s my basic practice:
(1) Find your own art routine. I’m drawn to the visual arts and live in New York City, so visiting museums works for me, but the practice can be tailored for music, theater, dance, poetry, architecture, etc. no matter where you live. The key, I think, is that you are intentional about the time you spend (“I’m going to be fully present”) and that you do it regularly (daily, weekly, monthly). No amount of time is too little.
If music is your thing, for example, create a distinction between what you listen to every day on your way to work and your practice. I’ve found that spending a little time in the planning stage (What am I going to see?) and then memorializing it (I take photos and make a few notes about my impressions) is really helpful in creating a sense of ritual.
(2) Mix it up (if you like). Writing this week’s newsletter brought home to me how I could open up my own practice. I’ve traipsed through oodles of galleries in the last several years, but haven’t attended a poetry reading or a rap battle. Maybe it’s time. If you’re starting an art practice from scratch, go with your instincts. And think broadly. There is so much available on-line now. Enjoy being surprised.
(3) Keep coming back. There will be stretches when you don’t want to make the time for your routine and stretches when you can’t. Don’t worry about it. To paraphrase Sharon Salzberg’s famous quote on meditation practice: the magic happens in the return, not in never having missed a day/week/month in the first place. That’s been my experience. Every time I come back after I’ve been away, I feel like I’m rejoining an often-friendly-sometimes-contentious-always-interesting conversation that stretches back to the first cave painters and forward to whatever comes after AI art. And I have to say that even when I distinctly don’t like an exhibit, I’ve never regretted experiencing it.
That’s it for this week! I hope you find a practice that connects you with human creativity…and that you relish your nonproductivity.
warmly,
alison
