Tuesdays are my least favorite day of the week. While I'm writing this on a Monday, it will more than likely be posted to my Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and such tomorrow, which is Tuesday. "Tuesday..." I mean, say it slowly - just that arrangement of syllables sounds snooty. It's the day which just reminds you every five minutes that it's no longer Monday, so you should have your life together better by now, but Friday is also what may as well be months away. It's like being on a desert island, with no glimmer of hope to speak of.
And the night before Tuesday is even worse.
However, I can't allow myself to complain too much. I have a blog to catch up on, after all. Though I will say that I didn't realize just how behind I was until I looked at the dates on the pictures I have to post this evening.
These pictures are from March 13th. Last Sunday. Here I was, thinking that I had made this little painting just a couple of days ago, and it was more than a week ago. Holy Moly, friends. This sort of leads to today's subject. Which is: (drumroll PUH-lease...) mediocrity.
Now, I hear you. "Sarah... Sarah," you're saying, "How on Earth do you intend to stitch together a post about being average that is anything more than, well, average?" Well, I'll be honest and tell you that I truly am not sure that I will, as this is something that I struggle with. I think a lot of people do, though, and I also think that a lot of people think that very few people have this issue.
And the night before Tuesday is even worse.
However, I can't allow myself to complain too much. I have a blog to catch up on, after all. Though I will say that I didn't realize just how behind I was until I looked at the dates on the pictures I have to post this evening.
These pictures are from March 13th. Last Sunday. Here I was, thinking that I had made this little painting just a couple of days ago, and it was more than a week ago. Holy Moly, friends. This sort of leads to today's subject. Which is: (drumroll PUH-lease...) mediocrity.
Now, I hear you. "Sarah... Sarah," you're saying, "How on Earth do you intend to stitch together a post about being average that is anything more than, well, average?" Well, I'll be honest and tell you that I truly am not sure that I will, as this is something that I struggle with. I think a lot of people do, though, and I also think that a lot of people think that very few people have this issue.
I don't think I'm making any grand assumptions here when I state that I am sure everyone has heard the phrase "Practice Makes Perfect." I remember in middle school band having that phrase corrected to "Practice makes permanent; Only perfect practice makes perfect." Another variation on this idea comes from Malcom Gladwell's book, Outliers, and has been deemed the "10,000 Hour Rule." According to this rule, a person has to put at least 10,000 hours of intentional practice toward their craft in order to become a master. (1)
Ten thousand hours. That's 416.667 days. That's 1,250 good nights' sleep. Only have two and a half hours to squeeze in between work and dinner and acknowledging your family or pets or exercise and sleep? Then it'll only take you 4,000 days to fit this time in. That's nearly 11 years. And at what point do the 10,000 hours start? If you're looking to be a writer, do the poems you wrote in Kindergarten count? If you're a businessman, can you take into the equation the summers you spent running your own lemonade stand? Or can you only count the times when you were truly deliberate in your studies and practice, and understood the principles you were working with?
If you consider this concept from this standpoint, 10,000 hours, at least to me, is an absolutely terrifying number. It's overwhelming, daunting, and cruel. And I find it hard to believe that I am the only person with this idea.
Though I hope that people from many walks of life are reading this, I'm going to specifically talk about the world of art making here. Being a person who has grown up with the internet and it's wonders, I have had access for quite some time to the artwork of others. In middle school or early high school ( I really don't recall) I created a page on the website DeviantArt. Then, it was a place to marvel at the pieces of artwork being created by kids a lot like me. Sure, there were plenty of professional artists as well, but I could see artwork being created by people my age or a few years older than me, and it was downright inspiring. It was so exciting to look, as a 13 or 14 year-old, at the work of a 17 or 18 year-old, and think, "In just a few years, I'll be able to draw and paint like that!" However, time passed, and I still go back and look at the artwork those 17 or 18 year-olds were putting out and find it to be intimidating, now that it's been a good handful of years since I was their age. It gives a person pause.
Am I just not as talented as they are? Am I ever going to be? Do they have access to some training that I've missed somewhere along the way? Will I ever be as good of an artist as those 17 or 18 year-olds...?
Ten thousand hours. That's 416.667 days. That's 1,250 good nights' sleep. Only have two and a half hours to squeeze in between work and dinner and acknowledging your family or pets or exercise and sleep? Then it'll only take you 4,000 days to fit this time in. That's nearly 11 years. And at what point do the 10,000 hours start? If you're looking to be a writer, do the poems you wrote in Kindergarten count? If you're a businessman, can you take into the equation the summers you spent running your own lemonade stand? Or can you only count the times when you were truly deliberate in your studies and practice, and understood the principles you were working with?
If you consider this concept from this standpoint, 10,000 hours, at least to me, is an absolutely terrifying number. It's overwhelming, daunting, and cruel. And I find it hard to believe that I am the only person with this idea.
Though I hope that people from many walks of life are reading this, I'm going to specifically talk about the world of art making here. Being a person who has grown up with the internet and it's wonders, I have had access for quite some time to the artwork of others. In middle school or early high school ( I really don't recall) I created a page on the website DeviantArt. Then, it was a place to marvel at the pieces of artwork being created by kids a lot like me. Sure, there were plenty of professional artists as well, but I could see artwork being created by people my age or a few years older than me, and it was downright inspiring. It was so exciting to look, as a 13 or 14 year-old, at the work of a 17 or 18 year-old, and think, "In just a few years, I'll be able to draw and paint like that!" However, time passed, and I still go back and look at the artwork those 17 or 18 year-olds were putting out and find it to be intimidating, now that it's been a good handful of years since I was their age. It gives a person pause.
Am I just not as talented as they are? Am I ever going to be? Do they have access to some training that I've missed somewhere along the way? Will I ever be as good of an artist as those 17 or 18 year-olds...?
Now, as I'm sure you know, for every person who says that one thing is the way of the world, there is a mob of others saying that the first person is full of poo (though I'm sure that they state this much more eloquently). One such example can be found in this article that I found from Business Insider Magazine about Malcom Gladwell's 10,000 Hours theory.
In short, this article states that the 10,000 hour rule only applies in fields where there is an unchanging system, process, or structure, such as classical music or chess. It even goes so far as to state that there are some fields in which a rule like this is entirely useless. (2)
Now, my first mistake here might be taking advice which I intend to apply to the field of art from a business magazine. Whatever the case, though, I think that there are caveats to both arguments.
In short, this article states that the 10,000 hour rule only applies in fields where there is an unchanging system, process, or structure, such as classical music or chess. It even goes so far as to state that there are some fields in which a rule like this is entirely useless. (2)
Now, my first mistake here might be taking advice which I intend to apply to the field of art from a business magazine. Whatever the case, though, I think that there are caveats to both arguments.
You've been seeing a bunch of pictures, snazzily taken at different angles, of a single painting. A single painting which I made in about four hours last Sunday. Four out of ten thousand hours. I'm 0.04% of the way there, guys!!!
My argument is that practice makes awareness. This applies to many fields, but I've considered it most in its application to the field of art or other similar subjects (writing, cooking, decorating, etc.). Those 17 and 18 year-olds whose art I've admired since middle school had one thing in common: they practiced. They knew art was their passion, and that is what they focused on. True, I could draw a million faces and still see one unlike any that I've drawn before. This kind of practice isn't about knowing how to do every single thing. It's about having different approaches.
This post was titled "The Art of Being 'Meh'," and was titled as such to illustrate my argument. My interpretation of the 10,000 Hour Rule is that you have to be okay with making artwork (or dishes, or short stories, or songs, or sculptures, or hairdos, or whatever might apply to you) that isn't quite up to your standard. I fail most at the 10,000 hour rule when I get frustrated because a painting or drawing didn't turn out as I would have liked and take a few days off from even looking at my sketchbook. You have to understand that for every great piece of artwork you see, there are at least dozens, if not hundreds or thousands, of pieces by the same artist that have flaws they would never have accepted. A person can succeed in applying the 10,000 rule to their own life when they figure out how to learn from each and every hour, mistake, and "meh" thing that they create.
This painting, for example. I knew going into it that it was just practice, but I still had high hopes. Looking at it now, I'm not happy with the size of the pinecone compared to the size of the board. I got a little overzealous with some insignificant details while overlooking some important ones, and I didn't take full advantage of the color palette I had available to me. However, I can learn from every single one of these "mistakes." And I will. As a result of this painting, the next one I create will be even better. And imagine if I took the time to do three paintings between this one and the next one?
So you just have to learn to think of the 10,000 hour rule as less of a barrier to overcome and more of a delay in time. Don't expect everything you do to be perfect. ESPECIALLY if you haven't passed your 10,000 hours. Every brushstroke, dash of spice, ink-blotted thought, or hasty scribble is another tick in the billing sheet toward your 10,000 hours. Don't let it pass you by without learning every single thing you can from it.
My argument is that practice makes awareness. This applies to many fields, but I've considered it most in its application to the field of art or other similar subjects (writing, cooking, decorating, etc.). Those 17 and 18 year-olds whose art I've admired since middle school had one thing in common: they practiced. They knew art was their passion, and that is what they focused on. True, I could draw a million faces and still see one unlike any that I've drawn before. This kind of practice isn't about knowing how to do every single thing. It's about having different approaches.
This post was titled "The Art of Being 'Meh'," and was titled as such to illustrate my argument. My interpretation of the 10,000 Hour Rule is that you have to be okay with making artwork (or dishes, or short stories, or songs, or sculptures, or hairdos, or whatever might apply to you) that isn't quite up to your standard. I fail most at the 10,000 hour rule when I get frustrated because a painting or drawing didn't turn out as I would have liked and take a few days off from even looking at my sketchbook. You have to understand that for every great piece of artwork you see, there are at least dozens, if not hundreds or thousands, of pieces by the same artist that have flaws they would never have accepted. A person can succeed in applying the 10,000 rule to their own life when they figure out how to learn from each and every hour, mistake, and "meh" thing that they create.
This painting, for example. I knew going into it that it was just practice, but I still had high hopes. Looking at it now, I'm not happy with the size of the pinecone compared to the size of the board. I got a little overzealous with some insignificant details while overlooking some important ones, and I didn't take full advantage of the color palette I had available to me. However, I can learn from every single one of these "mistakes." And I will. As a result of this painting, the next one I create will be even better. And imagine if I took the time to do three paintings between this one and the next one?
So you just have to learn to think of the 10,000 hour rule as less of a barrier to overcome and more of a delay in time. Don't expect everything you do to be perfect. ESPECIALLY if you haven't passed your 10,000 hours. Every brushstroke, dash of spice, ink-blotted thought, or hasty scribble is another tick in the billing sheet toward your 10,000 hours. Don't let it pass you by without learning every single thing you can from it.
Thanks!
Sarah
And per the request of Paul, if you need a Vin Diesel monologue to explain this concept to you, with a notable amount of cursing, punching, and blood, (you've been warned) here's a clip from The Knockaround Guys.
Sarah
And per the request of Paul, if you need a Vin Diesel monologue to explain this concept to you, with a notable amount of cursing, punching, and blood, (you've been warned) here's a clip from The Knockaround Guys.
References:
1) Gladwell, Malcolm. Outliers: The Story of Success.
1st ed. New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2008.
2) Baer, Drake. "New Study Destroys Malcolm Gladwell's 10,000 Hour Rule." Business Insider. Business Insider, Inc, 03 July 2014. Web. 21 Mar. 2016.
1) Gladwell, Malcolm. Outliers: The Story of Success.
1st ed. New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2008.
2) Baer, Drake. "New Study Destroys Malcolm Gladwell's 10,000 Hour Rule." Business Insider. Business Insider, Inc, 03 July 2014. Web. 21 Mar. 2016.