In the perennial best-seller "Art & Fear," Ted Orland (with David Bayles) examined the obstacles that artists encounter each time they enter their studio and stand before a new blank canvas. Now, in "The View From The Studio Door," Orland turns his attention to broader issues that stand to either side of that artistic moment of truth.
In a text marked by grace, brevity and humor, Orland argues that when it comes to art making, theory and practice are always intertwined. There are timeless philosophical questions ("How do we make sense of the world?") that address the very nature of art making, as well as gritty real-world questions ("Is there art after graduation?") that artists encounter the moment they're off the starting blocks and producing work on a regular basis.
Simply put, this is a book of practical philosophy. As a teacher and working artist himself, Orland brings authentic insight and encouragement to all those who face the challenge of making art in an uncertain world. The breadth of material covered is reflected in chapters that include Making Sense of the World, Art & Society, The Education of the Artist, Surviving Graduation, Making Art That Matters, The Artistic Community, and more.
"The View From The Studio Door" is the perfect companion piece to "Art & Fear," and will appeal to a similar (and already-established) audience of students, working artists, teachers and professionals. For students' benefit, "The View" is also modestly priced, with wide page margins for easy note-taking and annotation.
Ted Orland began his professional career working as a young graphic artist for designer Charles Eames, and later served as Assistant to photographer Ansel Adams. Ted currently lives in Santa Cruz CA, where he pursues parallel careers in teaching, writing and photography. He is co-author (with David Bayles) of the best-selling artists’ survival guide, “Art & Fear”, and author of its recent companion piece, “The View From the Studio Door”. He also leads workshops on a variety of artistic issues and photographic topics. Ted’s own fine art photography is represented by The Ansel Adams Gallery.
Insiktfull. Inspirerande. Men också realistisk och pragmatisk! När jag slog ihop boken bestämde jag mig för att läsa om den en gång om året. Den gav mig allt jag en gång hoppades att Rollo Mays Modet att skapa* skulle ge.
Utan att vara det minsta pretentiös ställer Orland frågor som: Vad är konst? Vad är kreativitet? Vad är den s.k. kreativa processen? Vad krävs för att skapa? (Hur) kan man leva på en kreativ karriär? Hur kan man skapa goda förutsättningar för skapande - på egen hand, varje dag - och på samhällsnivå, tillsammans med andra?
På sid 23 citeras Rilke, passagen ur Letters to a Young Poet, som jag läste för en vecka sedan:
"This is above all - ask yourself in the stillest hour of the night - must I write? Delve into yourself for a deep answer. And if this should be affirmative, if you may meet this earnest question with a strong and simple 'I must', then build your life according to this necessity."
In 54 years, I have read a lot of books. Orland and Bayles wrote "Art and Fear", which to date, is at the top of the heap.
I had high hopes and expectations for this book, and it did not disappoint at all, it's just that there's only one first place, and "Art and Fear" gets it.
Art and Fear concerns itself with why art gets made and doesn't. As much as anything, the tendency to avoid uncomfortable things is the short answer... uncomfortable things like work, poverty, rejection, misunderstanding, inability, cost and unrecoverable 'wasted' time. It is a singular success at its goal, and one can replace 'Art' in the title with about any word one chooses and still get a lot out of it. I gift it to friends and recommend that they consider it "Life and fear".
"The view through the studio door" addresses mostly the question "What is art?". I've pondered it quite a bit, and feel like the book dropped me into a salon discussion of a good intellectual topic. Orland has a damned good mind for this, and the expressiveness to fully explore it in the open minded manner such a broad topic deserves. He also has a few great suggestions to encourage the generation of intentional artistic support communities, presented with experienced simplicity that pretty much guarantees that I will take his advice.
I'll give the book a place of honor, next to my stack of Art and Fear books that I give away, but will consider it my own special treasure that speaks to me more of art more than to life. Some day, someone will need what is in it and maybe I'll start a stack of "View" to give away, too.
A good pick-me-up book for artists that are struggling to make their career happen. Has some great stories in it and presents its ideas in a simple, easy to understand manner.
Considering I highlighted 80 plus passages, it looks like I liked this book quite a bit. I read Art & Fear and I remember that it helped me get the boost I needed to continue pursuing my practice.
While reading, I scribbled a few notes on the back of a lesson plan. They're mostly just questions I was chewing while reading the section about experience & leading an interesting life & how that accumulates into your art.
As I have been trying to read different books lately, and books of various interests, I wondered if studying in that way counts as experience, or if experience is simply the physical. I wrote:
Where does reading / studying intersect with having experiences? Is a "bad" book (non-educational / fluff etc.) an equivalent as to say, going out for groceries? Can we get meaning from every day experiences? In that way, is it possible to live an interesting life? What constitutes as interesting? Can interesting be elitist? For example, middle class people coming home and going on modest vacations versus what we might perceive as more interesting - rich people and exotic locales. Is my living in Japan interesting enough when I am used to daily life here? It's a matter of perspective, isn't it? Again, what experiences count? And finally - the introvert's plea, "Do I have to go out with people every weekend or is interacting with people at work during the week enough?" Is that what makes an experience interesting? Or can I quietly explore my work at home and that can be interesting.
As you can tell, I went down the rabbit hole BIG TIME. With questions that honestly only bother myself as I continually search for ways to improve myself and my practice. I'm almost tempted to email the author and ask a few questions, as he did leave his email on the last page.
Either way, I thoroughly enjoyed this book and the way the author talks about art & practice.
First and foremost, I love this book for how human it feels. It feels like talking to a friend for hours on end. Orland is so honest and wise. The fact that he even included his email at the end for readers to reach out to him shows how personable and truly for-the-artists he is.
The book cuts right to the core of what makes being an artist so difficult: a consumerist, capitalistic, high-tech entertainment culture that no longer values art-making or art-experiencing.
The historic analyses of how art has operated in society were enlightening too: • "In other words, we're naturally predisposed to make art, perhaps in the same way that Noam Chomsky argues we're hardwired to learn language. Seen that way, art is also a part of nature — our nature" (54). • "Where art was once woven into the social fabric of a culture, today it is woven into the economic fabric" (51). • In primitive societies, "art" was used in communal performances and rituals. In the Middle Ages, pieces were used for religious or prominently visible purposes — still communal. But widespread literacy separated knowledge of a culture to "things" instead of being connected to other people, therein how society gathers itself and what it values; so, aesthetics and traditions are pushed to the margins while commodities and individualism take the reigns.
I also treasure so many of this book's values: nurturing connection over chasing fame, self-betterment over commercial success.
Some action steps from this book: • Make art everyday. – If I'm being completely honest, I am not sure I'll be MAKING art every day BUT I will certainly be making ART a part of my every day. (i.e. reading, writing, ideating, listening) • Make artist gatherings a regular part of my life. Find the people who I can discuss, give and take feedback with, encourage and be encouraged by. "Often, in fact, the informality of a group is the source of its strength" (61).
A very good read for those of us "making art" but not sure why or whether it is worth it even if you can't make a living out of it. Fortunately I don't have that problem as I am comfortably retired but I still have my own doubts whether to continue. I am part of an art class/group which I regard as very essential to my art (painting and drawing). As it happens I am seeing a potential mentor who is well established in the world of fine art, tomorrow for an outsider's evaluation and criticism of my work and guidance for finding " a audience. I should add that I read "Art and Fear" by Ted Orland and David Bayles, prior to reading "The View", which is also exceptional reading for an artist or would be artist.
From knowing nothing or something about Art society and what out of your studio view is a needed. I’m appreciate those informations and what Art students are concerning about.
I am a late-comer to Ted Orland's The View From the Studio Door:How Artists Find The Way in an Uncertain World. It was published in 2006, and I'm only just now getting around to it. More's the pity... or maybe it arrived at just the right moment, since I am writing and speaking around that same topic these days, and am finding not only much common ground between us, but also many new thoughts and insights that are truly valuable. It's one of those books in which I pause at every page with the wish that I'd been able to say it quite so well.
Ted Orland is an artist who works with photographic media and the co-author, with David Bayles, of Art and Fear (1993), a book which continues to be widely read by artists familiar with the fear that inevitably arises in their lives--and who are wise enough to learn how to use it rather than allow it to stand in their way. Orland's new book--well, not actually new--is addressed to the working artist; hence the reference to the studio in the title. This is a book about the creative process, not merely "creativity." The latter, as Orland is at pains to point out, is an abstraction. Work in the studio is about the experience of doing it.
As I suggested, Orland covers a good deal of the same material as myself: why bother to make art in a world already saturated with the work of others? What is it that drives the artist, despite the obstacles put in her way by a society that worships money and celebrity and heaps more success on the already successful few, even while ignoring the (sometimes greater) talent of the many? How do the rest of us, to use the word from my own title, "persist"? Orland also writes with sardonic humor about a system of education that does everything it can to squelch the creative spirit, and offers his own thoughtful perceptions on how to teach art--and how to learn. He has a light touch with some weighty material.
I also share Orland's conviction that art at its best is not a solitary act of self-expression nor one of technical accomplishment. It's rather a vital and passionate means of communication. For me--and as I read his book, I believe for Orland, too--it's about what makes us human. It's about believing with such passion in my own vision that I am compelled to find ways, through art, to understand and enrich it more completely, and through that process to be able to share it with my fellow travelers on this planet.
Orland also writes persuasively about the need for community. Too many artists, once they leave the privileged and sheltered life of art school, find themselves thrust out into a society that generally ignores them. But art hungers for, and thrives on feedback. Lacking this, the creative spirit can speedily wither and die. Optimally, if we lack this community, the thing to do is go out into the world and create one. Readers of "Persist: the Blog" will be aware of the virtual community to which they already belong. That's another way, for some, though it can encourage even greater isolation. It misses the warmth of actual, living, breathing, face to face, hand to hand human contact that can feed us. It's my impression that Orland's books have created a kind of community of readership. For those who have not yet encountered his work, I'd suggest a visit to his website, where you'll find links to "The View..." as well as to "Art and Fear." Both are valuable handbooks for the working artist (I mean that to include writers, too, and musicians, actors, dancers, and the rest). No matter who you are, or how successful, if the creative process is an important part of your life, they will restore some of the juices to your practice.
Did I mention that they're also a pleasure to read?
We go to art school, or we attend a workshop, and we feel energized and inspired, and ready to go out and become the next Great Artist Of Our Generation...
Then we realize that it's a big, loud, and scary world out there; and it seems almost impossible to get anyone to notice our art, let alone care about it even a fraction as much as we do.
Ted tackles this issue head on here. He's frank and clear about the struggles faced by artists in the modern world. While he doesn't offer an easy "three step plan" to overcoming these challenges; he does give us a better understanding of them, and tools to help us face them.
A great read, that surpasses the academic nature of Art & Fear with practicality, and humanity.
This book felt like it had enough filling for a single sandwich, or maybe a piece of toast, but it was spread thinly enough to fill a whole loaf. This is visually obvious in the design--it's got a nice big margin for marginal notes, quotations, what-have-you, but this is mostly blank. (In "The Artist's Way," which I found overrated, this nice marginal area was actually well-stocked with some interesting observations). I tried to glean something inspirational from this book, but after a few attempts, I have to admit it's just annoying to have it around, and it's time to pass it on, hopefully to someone it will "speak" to.
Ted Orland wrote this book for artists. It asks questions that artists run into and is a realistic depiction of what it takes to become an artist. One question that is discussed is how to maintain making art after graduating with a fine art degree and still make a living. Orland emphasizes the importance of hard work and the continuation of practice. It sort of crushes the naive view that being an artist is all fun and no work. I know I would have benefited from reading this book before going on to college! Ted Orland also wrote Art and Fear, which discusses similar topics.
As a practising artist this was hugely helpful to me and I would recommend it to anyone working as an artist even if you have been at it for years. I can't write a long review on this because it is so good!Just read the book. If you just had one book on creative practice this is it. I can't recommend it highly enough. Brilliant.
Ted Orland is a veteran artist that gives the reader a lot to think about. He asks artists to ponder questions about their work...but his questions are practical and not philosophical. Good food for thought for those who are at the beginning of art careers and those who are re-emerging from their artistic cocoons.
This is not a book to answer questions, but to raise them. He asks all the hard questions, including the three big ones: Why do humans create art? Why don't all humans create art? How are we to be artists in a world that no longer links art with everyday life. He mentions about 10 classic books related to the why of art. They would make a great bibliography for further reading.
This is one of those books that open you up to a dozen different ideas questions answers confusions and directions. Honest and humorous. I forsee reading this one at least once a year when i need a good boot to the head compass reading. Highly recommended!
This was a thoughtful, kind and generous look at being an artist today. I particularly liked the way Ted Orland talked about the importance of artist communities and his emphasis on the importance of making art.
A professor gave this to me as a gift for helping with various workshops and because I will soon be graduating with my undergraduate degree. This is probably one of the most important and best books for me to have read.
I'm not an artist, but I'm married to one. I was pleasantly surprised by this book, as I found a lot of the author's insight was useful for me, not just illustrative of my husband's experience.
What I most appreciated was his thought process. Orland's way of investigating a problem is a great model for trying to sort through the creative process.