A while back I created a “Live-Action To-Do List”: a hand-finished piece of wood with a groove in it that held three miniature whiteboards, each about 4”x5” (10x12 in centimeters for the rest of the world). The idea was that I would write down my three Most Important Things on these slabs, and they’d be right in front of me, keeping me focused while I was at my desk.
So I’m working on creating a miniaturized version of this, in the form of “cardistry trainers” that double as a fidget as well as a reminder of whatever I should be focusing on currently. Each one has a little plastic sleeve that fits a little card where you write your task — and when you finish it, you flip it over, and it shows a big checkmark to give you that dopamine fix.
Bonus — every time I take out the fidget and see that check mark again, it gives a little reinforcing look I did a thing today! The dopamine that keeps on doping…
But I think my most favorite thing is that, when I get these perfected, I have the perfect name for them: tasket.
Yeah, I know, it’s a buzzword, as well as a new book by my least-favorite ivory-tower dweller, Cal Newport.
(Image created via Apple’s Image Playground Beta)
(seriously, Cal, using Isaac Newton, Marie Curie, and Tycho Brahe as case studies is not relatable at all. WTF?)
Such as his first “principle” of slow productivity: do fewer things. I’ve always struggled with this idea, but it’s becoming more and more evident that the source of my burnout, stress, and a major activator of my ADHD symptoms is simply that I try to do too many things.
The tasket project is a step in the right direction, but the biggest issue is figuring out which things I want to focus on. I’ve found one mindset that seems to help is to think of it not as “giving up” or “quitting” projects, or even “letting them go” — but rather, “releasing” them. Not sure why that reframe is easier for me — maybe because it implies they might return to me someday? — but it helps.
In the realm of artists I’ve admired, I have a hard time remembering names. But Molly I remember, because her Dr. Sketchy’s Anti-Art School was such a delight. She also worked within the alt-sex and indie-porn community (such as the Suicide Girls) and as part of the adult sex education community it was always nice to feel like she got it.
In the library the other day I found her autobiography, Drawing Blood. It’s not the pinups-and-sex-filled humor fest I kind of hoped it would be — at least not yet (the first few illustrations are of Sheik Khalid on trial at Guantanamo, to give you an idea of the breadth). It’s a very serious tone, but it has that no-fucks-given matter-of-fact style that is fantastic, and the layout and illustrations are just as gorgeous as you might expect.
Admittedly, I’ve just started it — but it’s a pretty good start.
In almost every biography I read, the artist talks about how they’ve “always” drawn, they couldn’t stop drawing, they carried their sketchbooks with them everywhere, foregoing socializing and TV and books and sex to draw, draw, draw.
It’s very discouraging.
Because I haven’t always drawn things. I was actively discouraged from drawing by both parents and teachers and I ended up in a peer group that valued the written word (or spoken or sung) far more than illustration. I’ve only come back to drawing in the last five years or so, and I still have to fight the feeling that I’m both no good at it and also that I’m wasting my time (and money and etc) by doing it at all.
I want to read about a late-bloomer. I want to read about someone who started their art at age 50. They don’t even have to be successful at it, by whatever measure that means, I just want to hear that they were validated. (Here endeth the rant).
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