8 Clicks from Nowhere Productions

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NOWHERE

  • Photo Excuses

    If they say a picture is worth a thousand words, every one of the posts on this site is at least one thousand two hundred words long.

    You may not have noticed but I attach a unique monochromatic abstract photo (taken by me) to each and every one of my posts. It is not obvious, and chances are you have completely overlooked said pic (unless you are visiting from social media where it tends to get scooped up as the featured image.)

    Also. They are unconnected from the subject of each post.

    So why do it?

    Apart from simply having an excuse to take more photos, my intention with adding a photo to each post is raw abstraction and artistic curiosity. 

    Too often we find ourselves trapped inside the concept of finding a reason: return on investment, increasing marketability, adding context, or something else linked to clicks and sales and revenue. 

    But none of that matters in this case. I do it simply because I want to… and to make a point: that value can be measured in things beyond money. Value can be beauty. Value can be joy. Value can be a secret shared between people.

    These photos? They take time to take. They eat up server space and internet bandwidth. They are nearly invisible and usually unnoticed. But the sheer art of it means I wouldn’t ever stop.

  • Unfrozen Fools

    It is the first day of April and, no fooling, the start of the fourth month of this blog.

    When I started this blog I came up with clever names for each of the months and I called this one Artsy April, because as the snow around my home finally melts and the world thaws I have each year had this notion to get back outside and explore the world—to take pictures, to sketch the sights, and to make little videos of my adventures therein.

    As often crazy and unstable as the world might seem these days, there is creative inspiration to be found everywhere—and hope to be had from discovering it.

    For a month that starts with acts of jokes and trickery, deceit and mockery, no matter how well intentioned, it might be interesting to consider what the other twenty nine days of April should look like. To me a month inspired by the reawakening of the world and emergence of life from the soil and branches, and the wonder that offers to those of us who have just survived a long dark winter can—and should—try to splash some colour and joy back into our shared spaces.

  • Clear Minded

    I spent a whole month last year trying to meditate. 

    I read about it.[1] I downloaded apps. I set up a space in my home and (since it was summer) I found quite places in the park to sit and find focus.

    My conclusion was not that meditation didn’t work, but rather that I had already been meditating: I had been finding mindfulness on the running trail during solo runs. So, I deleted the apps and stashed my pillow and put my sneakers back on.

    The other takeaway lesson was that meditative mindfulness is critical for my creative process. Long runs—which works for me, by the way, and everyone needs to find their own effective source of clarity—emptied my brain and allowed the ideas to come out and play.

    I am not a meditation expert, but I have done both a lot of meditative running and creative ideation. Clearing the mind—whether by sitting quietly listening to chants or going for a long drive or sinking into the warmth of the sun on a beach or putting on a pair of trail shoes and snaking through the woods at speed—seems to be a critical piece of many people’s creative process. Find yours.

  • String Games

    I remember watching tv when I was a kid and that old trope of tying a string around your finger was something that snagged on my consciousness. After all, how the heck does trying a string around your finger help you remember something? But a lot of tv and film characters seemed to do it, so, there must have been something to it, right?

    Much later in life I realized that the finger trick and similar memory triggers are a bit of a hack—and not necessarily tied up in string.

    For example, sometimes if I need to remember to bring something when I leave in the morning, the night before I’ll leave something else out of place: I’ll move my toothbrush or put a sock in my shoe. It’s stupidly simple, but the next morning I’ll see the out of place item and my brain will connect with the reason it out of place which is tied back to the little story I put in my head about needing to remember that thing and… boom, there it is.

    String around the finger was just that: a memory hack. Why did I tie that string around my finger again? Oh, right… I need to do that thing.

    It got me thinking about memory hacks for creative work. What’s the driving down the road and suddenly being struck with inspiration without a notebook equivalent of the string around the finger?  How can I make sure I don’t lose a great idea just because I can’t immediately write it down? 

    I think if I figure that out, I’ll have a lot more great ideas—or at least one’s that I remember when I’m not sitting ready at my computer.

  • Inside Outsider

    The first time I ever thought about “outsider” influence on an art was watching that one episode The Simpsons[1]. Homer tries to build a backyard barbecue pit and turns into such a mess that some passing art gallery owner mistakes it for beauty and elevates him into the art scene. It is a parody of the notion of the idea that sometimes creation is accidental… and anyone can do it.

    It’s a farce of course. Comedy.

    But the notion of the novice outsider is not.

    I am definitely an outsider.

    I am not a pro. I am largely self-taught (provided you don’t count the occasional class at the community centre.) And I far too often break the rules simply because I don’t actually know them yet.

    Gatekeepers everywhere will pronounce, thus, that my efforts are null and void.

    And yet others of a more nurturing nature will decide that we are all students and imperfect until the day we die, so all of us are outsiders until then.

    Which is it?

    Being an outsider hardly puts me in a position to suggest what that answer might be, but I would offer that notions of “revitalizing energy”, “fresh blood” and “new talent” are not cliche by accident. I think many people recognize that outsiders can break barriers and unclog stuck patterns, maybe even helping those entrenched on the inside, offering inspiration or change.

    I’m not saying my noodling art will do that by some deliberate design or effort, but I think the possibility of such accidental insight means we shouldn’t simply dismiss outsiders either.