psychology

On The Couch In The Art Studio

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

My good friend Serdar has a smart discussion on the idea that one’s artistic creations can be therapy. I won’t comment per se because his piece stands on its own. Instead, I want to explore my own thoughts on the matter.

I am automatically suspicious when someone says that their public art is therapeutic – the art on display, that is sold, etc. Some of it feels disturbingly exhibitionistic in an uncomfortable way, someone sharing things that are very intimate with you and everyone else all together. Some of it feels manipulative, trying to affect your feelings or demand you have a certain reaction or you must react. To share very intimate things very openly makes me suspicious and uncomfortable, and thus “here is my therapeutic art” is not an announcement that immediately compels my attention.

This is not to say that one cannot share very personal and intimate experiences in art – indeed for some artists that is the goal, to connect and share. In cases like this the sharing is part of the experience, the revelations and experience are communicated in a way that reaches me and the audience and treats us as people. Some “this is my therapeutic release” art in public gives me the feeling that I am not a participant, but someone there to nod, or acknowledge, or just feed attention.

Now can one do art for therapeutic purposes? I’d say entirely yes, and in fact it can be very positive. To explore expression, mediums, and so on is very useful. So often we can’t reach what we want to say, and art can help us do it – some things can’t be done in words but can be done in paint or dance or music. I am all for different modes of therapy – but I think there’s a question of when and how you share what comes out.

I don’t ask to see your therapist’s notes, and it might not be healthy to share them. Essentially publishing them makes me suspicious unless it’s done in a way that communicates with me as a person.

There I think is the difference between therapeutic art that makes me suspicious or uncomfortable and art that is, well, art – that the artist is taking on the role of an artist as well as expressing the issues they are coping with. If an artist is able to explore their issues and present them as an artist, connecting with an audience as artist and a person I’m for it. It might even be more inspiring than something with less connection to the artist’s issues.

Art therapy is great. Producing art is great. It’s when you have both that the artist may need to pause and ask where they’re coming from – because they might not be going where they intended.

Steven Savage

Save Me From Peak Performance

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

I am not interested in Peak Performance.

Yes, YouTube Bros, Seminar Spewers, Vitamin Vendors, and people promising me 5G proof underwear I do NOT want to operate at my peak. I’m good thanks. I’m happy to not be at Peak performance.

See, the problem with Peak Performance is that it’s about shaving down your life to optimize one area. Know what? My life is good. It’s very diverse. I do art, I write, I play video games, I manage projects for medical research, and a lot more. I’m not willing to give up that stuff just to have shredded abs or be the world’s greatest project manager (I’ll stay in the top ten, thanks). Peak Performance is all about dedicating yourself to one thing to the point you’re just not you.

For that matter, is it even worth the effort? Do I want to take your six week seminar for the price of a new car? Do I want to spend twenty weeks training for, I dunno, my own fragile ego? Look I got things to do, donuts to eat, and stupid anime to watch thanks. I have a life.

Does my Peak Performance, being Top Alpha of Bullshit Mountain even matter to people? Will it make me a better friend, boyfriend, co-worker, cat-petter, or for that matter person? Like is it going to help anyone? Or am I just going to become even more annoying?

But also do I even want Peak Performance? I mean by whose standards, some tatted-up grifter on his third business selling me supplements? Some shrieking news personality with a side gig? Maybe my idea of Peak Performance isn’t what these people are trying to sell me – and for that matter most of them seem to be selling me ways to compensate for insecurities I don’t have.

Really, let’s be honest, Peak Performance is a kind of madness, telling you there’s this thing you have to do to be complete, that’s all you focus on. It’s marketed personal insanity, and to judge by the wildly stupid stuff I see, its also attempts to manipulate vulnerable people. Let’s face it, we’re all vulnerable at some point.

Of course it’s peak Late Stage Capitalism, promising you an optimized but dehumanized life that someone will sell to you. It’s selling you all the stuff making you miserable back to you.

So nope, I’m fine being me, thanks.

Steven Savage

Thinking With Different Minds

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

As noted many times, I’m interested in history, especially the history of religion and project management. Fortunately my interest in such things has focused on China, which has a long history of written records, and preserved writings on management advice over a thousand years old. We Project Managers have been here forever, everyone needs some anal-retentive worrier who can’t stand to leave things undone.

You think you got canals and great temples without someone like me?

Often in my readings I find how much I relate to people a thousand, two thousand, or more years gone. The same observations, the same issues, the same human condition – and human solutions. There’s so much similar, to the point where I can read about some guy charting grain storage and go “yeah, my man, great job, you update those records, you keep that thing running!”

But among all those similarities, I’d like to talk about differences in how we organize, get things done, and indeed just live with each other.

Yes, I can relate to people thousands of years ago, but they also led different lifestyles than mine. They probably didn’t live thousands of miles away from their family. The seasons meant different things to them with less transport for food and different dwellings. The people I read of might pass by a slaughterhouse casually, or eat food that literally came from next door. They operated on different schedules. NONE of them had to learn what an “Influencer” was or become bitter about it.

They had different minds than me. Yes, we have much in common, but it’s important to remember the differences too.

When I think of this, I think how different we can be sometimes. Now that’s easy to think of the differences between people now and a few thousand years ago. In fact it’s probably good as a lot of us have ideas quite out of date that got handed down over the centuries we don’t question. But there’s more.

Do we have the same minds as someone born a hundred years earlier than us? Fifty? Even ten? How many of us are running around this world trying to interact with people who have different minds than we? How many of us haven’t adapted to the present? For that matter how many lessons are we trying to apply to our current crises that may not be old, but are from different times and different minds?

As we try to solve the problems we face, we may want to ask if we have the wrong minds to do it. If I can speculate on using Agile in pre-Industrial China, we can ask if we are literally the wrong people for the job of running and probably saving the world.

It’s OK. The world has changed a lot. We’ve done some very stupid things in hindsight. It’s OK to admit it. But we have to become different people and that means recognizing we need different minds.

We can reach back and time and learn from people different yet similar to us. We can ask who we need to be now. We can see who we used to be. We can become who we need to be, to have different minds.

Because I’m not sure current us is ready for the job, and we cling mightily to ourselves.

Steven Savage