Artists: Welcome Home!

The Sacred Arts Intensive is a laboratory for artists of all disciplines, including the healing arts, where you will be offered a perfect blend of structured group activity and solitary time to work on individual projects.

Each artist will come with a work in progress and an intention to move this project forward more powerfully than you’d be able to do alone.
Arrive on Friday, August 12 and settle in.

We begin with breakfast on Saturday morning and conclude with lunch on Sunday, August 21.

$650 if registered by 7/1/11. $700 thereafter. Reserve your spot with a $50 deposit.
Dormitory lodging available for free.    Hotel rooms available.

To register contact Roger at rogersams@mac.com — 216.476.0583 or Patricia at patricia@kambitsch.com — 416.799.6750

You will be inspired by the diversity of gifts in the community, time spent in nature, and structured experiments designed to challenge, provoke, nurture and awaken the muse that resides within all of us. This is a space where you’ll be taken to your bleeding edge to rediscover your
essential nature as an artist.

Having “workshopped”  in many different classes, writers’ workshops, and artists’ groups, I’ve often found circles for offering feedback  impersonal and superficial.* In the traditional workshop, artists sit fidgeting around in a circle, drink too much coffee, and tell each other lies.  Members tend either to say sweet polite generalities about the piece in question so that everybody will think they’re nice and will like them, or they rip the work to shreds with their cleverness so that everybody will think they’re smart and will like them.** In either case, the critique is typically far more informative about the people doing the critiquing than about the piece on the table.

I wanted something better for our 8-day multidisciplinary arts intensive. I wanted to go deeper. I wanted the artists to share what they honestly thought and felt about the content of newly created pieces. I wanted to have nothing to do with weak cheerleading or clever critiquing. I wanted genuine response.

Genuine response would require a genuine shift in what we artists ordinarily do. Instead of simply evaluating and critiquing the technicalities of a piece, each member would share what she thought and felt about her own experience of another artist’s work.  In other words, each artist might get a glimpse at the impact her work might have on an audience.

I had been planning the intensive with Roger Sams at his Sacred Arts Center, when I met Donna Mazzola, a student of what she called “dream work.” Donna invited a small group gathered around Roger’s dining room table to try a little dream work of our own.

I love dreaming and talking about my dreams. Who doesn’t? Still, I was reluctant. I feel irritated when I share a dream with someone who tells me what they think my dream means. Usually it’s clear that all this person is doing is projecting their own stuff into my stories. And, frankly, I was a little reluctant to join in at first because I find listening to other people go on about their dreams  kind of boring. But the model Donna practiced made the sharing fascinating. She used a practice called projective dream work, based on the work of Jeremy Taylor.

A woman at the table told the story of her dream. Then, instead of asking us to avoid projecting our own meanings (a practice I thought of as invasive and negative), Donna encouraged projection. She asked that we begin each response with “If this were my dream…” as we offered our responses. This little phrase made all the difference for me. The projection we unintentionally inflict on each others stories became transparent.  The urge to plant our own experience into another person’s dream added depth to the story. Since I respond to your dreams from my own experience, your dream has personal significance for me. Now that I know it really is all about me,  your boring dream becomes fascinating, and my response adds layers to its meaning.

Honesty. Transparency of intent. Support in peeling back the layers of meaning. Deep discovery.  This is what I wanted in our feedback circles at the arts intensive. I told Donna then of my plan to borrow Taylor’s model, modify it, and use it for art and works-in-progress.

Donna agreed to share her dream work with our group, give us the chance to practice sharing our dreams as a peer group, and I proceeded to adapt Jeremy Taylor’s process for our feedback circles.  During the day, with Donna we shared and responded to dreams. In the evening, we shared our work. For both we used the following, with my adaptation (in red).  My comments appear in blue. Taylor’s unmodified Dream Work Tool Kit is available here.

The Dreamwork (Artwork) Tool Kit:
Six Basic Hints for Dream (art) Work
One

All dreams (all works of creative and expressive art) speak a universal language and come in the service of health and wholeness. There is no such thing as a “bad dream (inspiration for art)” — only dreams (works of art) that sometime take a dramatically negative form in order to grab our attention.   This statement assumes that the piece of art speaks to universal experience. Seems a little lofty, doesn’t it? But why not assume that our work is universal? Why spill so much blood, sweat, and tears in service to anything less?  The idea that “negative art” might work in service of our “health and wholeness” encourages the feedback circle to respond with honesty to work they might not think is pretty or pleasing.

Two

Only the dreamer (the artist) can say with any certainty what meanings his or her dream (his or her works) may have. This certainty usually comes in the form of a wordless “aha!” of recognition. This “aha” is a function of memory, and is the only reliable touchstone of dream work. There may be many reliable touchstones in responding to works of art in progress.

Three

There is no such thing as a dream (a work of art) with only one meaning. All dreams (works of art) and dream images are “overdetermined,” and have multiple meanings and layers of significance. To me, nothing feels more magical than when new layers of meaning are discovered in response to an emerging work of art.

Four

No dreams (works of art) come just to tell you what you already know. All dreams (All works of art) break new ground and invite you to new understandings and insights. Breaking new ground with new understandings is a rather high bar for a work of art.

Five

When talking to others about their dreams (pieces of art), it is both wise and polite to preface your remarks with words to the effect of “if it were my dream (poem, play, dance, painting, garden or other work)…,” and to keep this commentary in the first person as much as possible. This means that even relatively challenging comments can be made in such a way that the  dreamer (artist)may actually be able to hear and internalize them. It also can become a profound psycho-spiritual discipline — “walking a mile in your neighbor’s moccasins.”  “If it were my -fill in the blank-” became a group mantra at the arts intensive. We used it to preface just about suggestion, interpretation, or opinion we wanted to qualify.

Six

All dream (arts) group participants should agree at the outset to maintain anonymity in all discussions of dream work. In the absence of any specific request for confidentiality, group members should be free to discuss their experiences openly outside the group, provided no other dreamer (artist) is identifiable in their stories. However, whenever any group member requests confidentiality, all members should agree to be bound automatically by such a request. Creating art can be risky. Confidentiality helps us to feel safe. Safety allows deep, personal sharing to happen.

© Jeremy Taylor 2004, with modifications

Artists very often require feedback about technicalities. We need to know the specifics about what works and what doesn’t.  This is all good and fine, but when I’m presenting a work-in-progress, often one that just came to me like a gift from the cosmos, I have more basic questions. How have I reached you? What does my work mean for you personally? How does my work resonate with what you’re feeling and thinking?  What made it into your head and heart? How do I connect with you and how does the work that flows through me flow through you?

The results of this experiment continue to unfold. Our circle often focused on personal stories and revelations  rather than addressing particular works of art. During our week together we bonded much like a close family, made possible, in part, by Taylor’s process. We lovingly referred to each evening’s feedback circle as our “deep dive.” I, for one, dove in much deeper than I expected or intended. Deep sharing about art can be painful, challenging, and life-changing, not unlike working with dreams.

*I found notable exceptions to this phenomenon in workshops at Women Writing for a Change.

**For anyone who has ever sat through too many writing workshops, you must read Billy Collins’ “Workshop”.

***I know, I know. There is a time and a place for technical critique. I could have used some for this entry, right?

Whose idea was this anyway? Roger and I weren’t sure who first came up with the idea of  hosting a cross disciplinary laboratory for creating new work in community, but that didn’t matter. The idea seemed silly, risky, weird, and totally impractical. As Roger would say, the idea was perfect.

The idea: Gather artists together from different disciplines for at least a week under one roof in Cleveland, Ohio and dare ourselves to create. Dig in deep. Dive in deep. Explore. Focus.  Incubate. Tease. Make messes. Stay up late and get up early. Cross pollinate.  Mash up processes from other disciplines. Push each other to our bleeding edge. Trust in the wisdom of the group to make sense of it all in the end.

The plan: Organizing an eight-day arts intensive for a diverse group of artists without creating total chaos or total structure would be tough.  I knew this would be tricky, and that skillful facilitation would be key to pulling it off. So I was a little nervous going into this, but I would be working with Roger Sams, master teacher and facilitator with a proven track record of bringing out the best in people, so no need to worry.

We wanted to allow the participants to help create the activities for the week, have time and space for both solitary and group work. We also wanted a structure that would gather and focus our forces for at least part of the time. We wanted both choice and structure, freedom and organization.

I’d seen Open Space Technology work for meetings,  conferences, and corporate retreats, so why wouldn’t it work for a handful of artists in Cleveland? Given we’d be together for eight days, we’d have to adapt the process. Again, I was working with the best, so no worries.

Everyday we met to discuss what (if anything) we were offering to share, invitations were made. An eight-day time space matrix (Owen’s fancy word for sign up sheet) was spread out on the kitchen cabinets. We trusted each other  to self organize and to share. We discussed the principles for Open Space and we hoped for the best.

First Principle of Open Space: Whoever Comes is the Right People. I was concerned about the numbers.  Would there be enough people?  Would everybody get along? Was there too much diversity? Not enough? Would there be enough to eat? How would this mix of six people whose labels included a playwright, a drag king, a performance artist, a filmmaker, an acting coach, a poet, a composer, a dancer, another dancer, a music educator, a visual artist and a dream worker all get along?  Turns out, Harrison was right. The right people showed up. The first principle was at work in the individual sessions as well. Sometimes everyone showed up. Sometimes no one. But it was all good and again, no need to worry.

Whenever it starts is the right time. This principle seemed a bit flaky to me, and I almost chose not to mention it. Tell a gathering of creative people “whenever is the right time” seemed to be asking for disaster. (I even went out and bought an extra clock.) Still, for each of the sessions, activities, meals and field trips, we self organized to the point that flexibility about start times seemed normal and stress over time seemed rare.

Whatever happens is the only thing that could have. Hard to argue with this one. Also good to be reminded.

When it’s over, it’s over. After a bit of adjustment, we learned we didn’t need a clock to tell us when a session was complete.

The Law of Two Feet. Owen explains his one law like this: If at any time during our time together you find yourself in any situation where you are neither learning nor contributing, use your two feet, go someplace else. I didn’t see many people leaving activities mid-session. Just knowing that I could leave an activity at any time with no hard feelings gave me an incredible sense of power and freedom.

We ended up quoting from the Open Space principles and the law often during the week, even when the context had nothing to do with a session. I’m still enjoying the freedom and power of my two feet. I’m looking at start and end times differently. I’m challenging myself to see everyone who shows up around me as the perfect people. Open space works in meetings and in arts intensives because it’s principles work anywhere in life. Thank you, Harrison Owen.

Next posts about the Sacred Arts Intensive will include: projecting our dreams, deep dives and feedback, going to Mass, safe emergencies.

Testing the limits within a nurturing community and safe environment.
Giving our work the space and time it needs to evolve.

Support.
Challenge.

We have much to look forward to in this summer adventure.

To tickle your imagination, check out Elizabeth Gilbert’s take on creative process

And a leather-clad Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi on the ecstasy of flow (start at about 5:30 for the juicy part).

Why do we sacrifice so much energy to our art? Not in order to teach others but to learn with them what our existence, our organism, our personal and unrepeatable experience have to give us; to learn to break down the barriers which surround us and to free ourselves from the breaks which hold us back, from the lies about ourselves which we manufacture daily for ourselves and for others; to destroy the limitations caused by our ignorance and lack of courage; in short, to fill the emptiness in use: to fulfil [sic] ourselves. Art is neither a state of the soul (in the sense of some extraordinary, unpredictable moment of inspiration) nor a state of  man (in the sense of a profession or social function). Art is a ripening, an evolution, an uplifting which enables us to emerge from darkness into a blaze of light.”

Jerzy Grotowski

The Sacred Arts Intensive is an eight-day immersion offering artists the opportunity to work, to play, to create and conceive new works and practices with other artists.

As a laboratory for experimentation, exploration, and risk-taking, the Sacred Arts Intensive encourages deeper, more personal exploration than public or academic venues might allow. For some participants, this may mean exploration at their bleeding edge. For all, the lab itself is an experiment in creating a community of practice among a diverse group of creative thinkers and practitioners.

The intensive is an invitation-only gathering, though participants may invite others.