The monastic artist

I wouldn’t use the Islamic prayer as an example. It condemns people like us.

Robert, Thank you for this post, profound yet witty, and full of wisdom.

I just love this and would love another post with more details about an artist’s monastic schedule. Thanks.

Walking the walk instead of talking the talk is probably the closest thing to the “secret” of making art. It is one of the most simple yet profound statements. Simply talking about something will never get it done. I have surrendered to the idea of being a “famous” artist and have embraced the idea of being simply a “working artist”. I am a humble artist who is well aware of those painters of the past who have walked before me and have so much respect for their contributions. I like the idea Robert proposes “You need a well-regulated, simple life so that you might become both servant and student”. Make the time and keep life as simple as possible so that the working day painting routine can happen. Through the work the creative process can take hold. Without the work there is no growth and the creative spark will die.

I look forward to days like these when I can paint like a cloistered nun and think of nothing else. The reality of my life is though, someone has to clean the bathrooms, go for groceries, cook the meals, spend time with my aging husband, arrange for home repairs and the list goes on. Maybe the the Flower Children of the ’60s had it right when they formed communes and assigned duties to people according to their abilities. I need a flower child to come manage my home so I can paint!

Robert, thank you for these beautiful thoughts. You have stated what I’m sure many of us know deep down, but can’t seem to put into practice as often as we’d like. Nina Freeman is right: the business of running a house is a major hurdle for women who would choose the monastic life if they could. The other impediment, I think, is what modern society says we should be doing: keeping in touch thru email, Facebook, LinkedIn, e.g., all the social media; maintaining websites and blogs; tuning in to art career Webinars; volunteering with art organizations; teaching (which I dearly love and won’t give up), etc. etc. None of them bad ideas; they just steal away time and concentration. We can’t have it both ways, can we? Thank you for giving me permission to say “no” to many of these and reclaim the monastic life I led before the internet.

Robert, your monastic life sounds like something we all grope for. But, tell me, who shops for food and prepares your lunch and dinner, who does your laundry, cleans your house and attends to its repairs and maintenance and garden? The live-in housekeeper? The other monks?

A message for Nina Allen Freeman (and everyone else living in the real world): Nina, I share your pain. We all have the responsibilities of daily life to cope with, which always seem to take precedence over the activities we would like to do. However, the trick to fitting one’s passion and creative life into one’s day isn’t to find the time, it is to make the time. Speaking from experience, I worked a stressful fulltime job for many years, while also taking the time to raise two kids (both in competitive sport, requiring driving to the gym four days a week) and looking after two dogs and the house. I painted from about 9 p.m. till midnight or 1 a.m., after dinner, after homework and putting the kids to bed, then got up at 6 or so to do chores and go to work. I painted, entered shows, won prizes, had several solo shows (since I work fairly realistically, sleep was truncated even more when i was preparing for shows). It was what I wanted to do, and so I made the time. The schedule made me focus my energies: my time was limited and precious, and I had to make it count. Now that I am retired, I’m not spending that many more hours a day painting than I did before. You don’t need a flower child to manage your home, you need to want to paint enough to make the time to do so. Whining uses time and energy that could be spent painting. Just do it.

Starts funny, ends nice. One of the nicest memories of being a military brat was a summer spent learning French in a convent day school in Nancy, France. The generic religion served up in the military did not prepare me for the world I found there. The peaceful space in a beautiful sunlit garden with gravel paths, the hard benches of the school room, the grubby fingernails of Sister Marie de Misericorde contrasted with the perfect ivory linens and dark beads of her habit. I treasure the blue textbook we used, with its charming illustrations and the hard facts of declentions and verb tenses. It was the first such peaceful yet demanding place I had ever experienced and I think I still try to recreate it in my mental studio.

Lovely commentary. It is a good reminder, come January hibernation time, to remain “in harmony with universal principles” and stay clear of those ambitious ones who heed not the calling of the quiet stillness and push for gatherings, showings, meetings, etc. It always amazes me that an ‘artist’ would be immune to this. It is a daily challenge to stay true, with the business of the world constantly buzzing around us all. January is the best reason to say ‘no’ and attempt some monastic time, even if only temporary.

Deep words,human feelings,fresh air to our ears and hearts.A sense of universal mood warmly embracing the world.A word can often take our breath away .Humility and mercy are gifts .We have to walk our walk .We always find on our path somebody else on our same wavelenght .Thank you for beeing a good companion of our walks.

As you have alluded previously, the creative act is a form of active meditation, a spiritual endeavor. Seclusion, with the condition of knowing that we will not be disrupted, sets the desired ambience. As opposed to the monks, however, we have the freedom to set up our own rituals.

It’s okay to be intimate with nuns provided you don’t get into the habit.

Ohhh to live the life of a Picasso “poor but rich” artist. Unfortunately most of us have to scratch out what few hours we can a week in the studio and somehow balance that with the 2 and 3 jobs we must do just to afford the rent for the studio. Most of us simply don’t have the luxury of the monks life in art-making I’m afraid. The fact that I accomplish the bodies of work that I do is a downright miracle! Hmmm maybe there is some divinity in there somewhere…

In a sense I think of myself as being very rich, but living as a poor man. I am richer because of having met you! The spirit of the monastic life is wonderful: I start my day with prayer in bed, sit in my art corner at the laptop and write my devotion for my Bible group, think about what to do with the painting I’m working on, look for your letter and my day has started with your inspirations!

I often am sure I belong on some other planet with some robed solitary souls listening to calming harmonic and melodic yet often dissonant chords in a meditative flow of ” show me, God, what it is you would have me create” ………………… Then there is the worldly me who is not so good at the day to life who needs the reminder below that it is OKAY to be me …………… even if I am most likely off the chart right brain and probably ADD plus ………….. such that dealing with life on life’s terms is much less fun than dealing in the world of design and create . . . in effect I figure my life to be somewhat an “odd but active monastery”.

Thanks for this one! With the days getting cooler in Maine and the tourists thinning out to a trickle, I’m feeling the beginning of the quiet winter monastic life once again. The daily routine that you describe rings true with me. It’s only broken up once a week when I go to teach Drawing or Painting at the local University Center. That day energizes me and then I return again to my studio monastery. Being creative as an artist is a gift that I try to be thankful for everyday and I’m glad to part of the monastic brother/sisterhood.

I usually enjoy reading your letter but the first paragraph of the “Monastic life” was offensive and disrespectful with out I might add, being at all clever or funny. Say you’re sorry and say six hail Marys.

I read your latest letter and found that my first thought was- I don’t think a woman with any loved ones that she cares for would be able to create the life you describe. Even a lover requires attention and friends are like gardens that also need to be nurtured. As an artist, a mother, lover, friend, and of course, a job….my artistic life is squeezed in between the needs of these other people, these other things. It’s better than it used to be but I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to do what you do- live a monastic life. Most women can’t. That’s probably a cop-out, but it is also very real. Love your letters.

I had a rather monastic summer this year. I was lucky enough to paint in Telluride, Colorado this summer for two months. Didn’t know a lot of people so I had plenty of time to paint-morning, noon and night. I also taught a couple of classes so that kind of took care of my social needs. That and painting on Main Street. Telluride is a tiny town in the southwest corner of Colorado and Main Street is the social artery. Telluride also has a festival almost every weekend all summer: Jazz, Blues, Mushrooms, Bluegrass, Film. Sometimes I would set up near the free concerts in town and paint to fabulous music. I guess I’m lucky that I like to paint in public and even enjoy interruptions-as long as the light isn’t changing too quickly. When the summer ended and I went to a friend’s house I realized I was out in nature every day for two months and had developed quite an addiction to fresh but thin air, 9000 feet up.

This is probably one of the most beautifully written letters I’ve seen in a long, long time. As someone who has flirted with the monastic artistic life (sometimes in, sometimes wishing I was in) I could not agree with you more. Thanks for putting into words a feeling that I’ve carried around in my heart.

Very well written. My thoughts exactly. But you know how to put them on paper. I’ve been reading your mail for many years now.

Thank you for this gorgeous letter! and the many others you send to us. My comment: simplicity seems complicated! Ordinary human obligations seem to come first so often – including caring for my home, family, friends and neighbours – and my own health: exercise etc. But still, I so appreciate your putting before us the goal of a daily life devoted to a simple, creative, contemplative lifestyle.

This is one of your best letters ever, Robert! It reasoned with me so much, so completely, that I share it on my Facebook profile (no big deal, of course, but I do not do it so often…) I feel it so true that probably I will read it quite often to remind me about it… I do live a bit like that and, oh, man, I teach nuns to paint almost for a decade now… It really clicked with me. Thank you, elder Brother!

Your letter has touched the very core of my creative nature, how I now trust to express my impression, experience of the Universe around me and plop it onto a support. I am excited to gain incite into our expanding Universe, more so since watching (TVO) the opening of the Stephen Hawking wing at the Perimeter Institute at Waterloo, On. last Sunday night. Physics, science, mathematics, nature, beauty, love…. How can anyone ignore this amazing life we come to experience when so much is going on around us? How can I express this journey of the soul? That’s my challenge.

Thank you! Your words say it all and then some. What more can an artist say?

Thank you for helping me understand more about why I paint…lately I’ve been struggling with the question of “why am I desiring the solitude of my passion?” “why is it I don’t I feel the same around non-artists as I do around artist friends”….I get so excited when I speak with another creative person….the creative people I have in my life now make me happy….I want to sink into a soft cushy chair and share conversation about what I feel when I paint and where I want to go with my art…less and less I want to entertain and sit around the table with my other acquaintances and friends who never even think about creativity or having that sort of conversation…I have been so bored with that for such a long time and I didn’t recognize that I’ve changed and I desire a different life then what I’ve been living… I started oil painting only seven years ago….much has changed in my thinking since then….I am happy…

I loved today’s letter both for its analogies to monks and artists, and your wicked sense of humour! I rarely laugh so much before finishing my first coffee. Thank you for that. Keep those letter’s coming.

Doesn’t the artist need constant contact with the world around him, not shut off from it in a monastery? To be relevant for people in the real world, the artist needs to experience the real world. Disciplined in working habits, of course, and thinking of the studio as a “holy place” for creation, of course. But the artist needs to interact with the amazing world around him..

I know several monks and nuns who either paint, draw or sculpt or write in addition to following a life of prayer. In fact St Benedict, the founder of monasticism taught that work is prayer. Through creativity one is participating in God’s creation.

Creativity Is… Creativity is in the pure silence a monastery, yes~ a community of wildflowers, butterflies, skies, children’s laughter~ Everything is a poem and a painting~ Freedom lives in the heart, the greatest monastery of all!~

I wanted to tell you as a subscriber to your letters that they have become invaluable at this time in my life. I am moving to a more peaceful place on the south shore of Nova Scotia where I can be more inspired, learn more and spend more time with my dog and family, painting and walking on the beach. I will continue to look forward to the letters.

Thank-you once again, Robert for elevating my idea of what this way of life is all about. It took me about 50 years of life to give myself full permission to pursue painting as a valid activity. So, I appreciate your encouragement and the experience of a ‘veteran’.

This particular letter resonates with what is in my heart. I have tasted the monastic rhythm and now longs for it as i pass by my work space many times throughout the day as i get engaged with so many chores. Inashmuch as i wish to follow my work schedule in the studio, there are many “little” chores which just could not be put aside and done after my painting time. I guess, this is just the reality especially when one has small children in the home.

Written so beautifully, this speaks to me more than anything I have read for a very long time. Thank you for putting into such exquisite words feelings I have held but never took the time to express openly.

There is much to be said for developing a creative life’s routine, stopping short of what some might even call “religious.” Dancer Twyla Tharp helpfully speaks of turning certain daily activities into a ritual. You are then free from pestering yourself with, “should I really do this today, although I know I should…” kinds of self-torture talk. All of us in the creative fields need our share of “practice” and it’s sometimes hard to fulfill if the mood doesn’t match the goal. Still, I like the idea of painting being more than a daily habit. That’s where the brush with the spiritual comes in. The Christian story speaks of rebirth, and we can likewise see our painting process as one, not only of creation, but opportunity for constant renewal. When I make a painting and move on to the next one, I get to start over again, wipe out bad mistakes and learn from the good experiences. Forgiving myself for not being a perfect painter, I am free to plunge back in and begin again with new hope, the way a child would do. Now that is real freedom, what better environment in which to work?

I believe that to be creative, one cannot be busy, but I find each day a challenge — to clear the slates, take care of what has to be taken care of, honor friendships, have time for reflection, and prepare for my future, do laundry, etc. etc. As a single working artist, doing all the chores, dog care, finances, food, etc. etc. is a daily struggle. Your life sounds perfect, but the realities of life intervene, and mine is more complicated. Asheville, NC

You must have other people to manage your life! I would love to live a modified monastic life painting. (Yes, I have visited monasteries.) But the rest of life gets in the way. Husband, children, grandchildren, mother, sisters etc. Friends, of course. To say nothing of entering shows and attending classes and workshops occasionally. I know you travel and you certainly write. Filling your website is no small job. So, I wonder if the life you describe as your own is regular, infrequent, periodic stretches of time, or in your dreams! If it is real, tell me how to achieve it even a little bit! Your letters are a respite.

Robert, Your words, and those of our brothers and sisters in the divine world of Art, remind me how fortunate we are to follow this calling. How sad for the rest of humanity who miss out on the profoundness of the creative experience. I have long aimed to be monastic in my artistic pursuits, and it is encouraging to see that I’m not alone. I have worked to keep my life and spirit simple, uncluttered and ever open to the beauty in the natural world. The challenge is to keep the flame of creativity burning through all our daily endeavors, much as monks strive to pray always. We are artists at the very core of our existence, not just when we’re in our studios. Thank you for sharing your letters and inspiration.

You have such a wonderful command of literal and literary pigments! Always delightful and insightful, thanks for doing what you do!

I receive something from each of your letters and this may be the one I have received the most from. All I want to do is paint, coming to it so late in life. I did have lessons at the Montreal Museum of Fine Art with Arthur Lismer walking through the room occasionally with us all in awe. I must have been ten or eleven and am now seventy-four and have been painting for less than two years. Life must no longer get in the way of painting. Prescott, AZ

One of the greatest pleasures of painting and creating art, is that the process is largely contemplative. When I paint, my mind is cleared of everything but the process. No matter how tired I may have been when I began, I “come out” of this contemplative time filled with more energy. This is similar to how I emerge from contemplative (or centering) prayer. Art, like all my activities and interactions, can be a prayer. Thank you for your fascinating missives about art! Even though I am not a professional artist, I find them helpful and insightful. ps. When I was in college in Winnipeg, I considered entering the religious life. During a religious retreat, I learned this was not for me. Long Beach, California

I LOVE this page – I am not an artist but beleives that the love for ART. . .comes from an artistic eye.

Mountain top experiences are whipped together with harmonious hoops of grace, transporting brilliance by showing creativity and simplicity. Filled with marvellously rich couture skies of indigo and pastel — the rising rivers which once overflowed, settle down into babbling brooks which are now bejewelled with speckled ginger and white flowers — the forget-me-nots’ steps into a field of honey and wheat. There, we find the cavern door opening, the clouds part, the light shines directly into our well being. We find ourselves face to face with humility, a perspective taking, multi-dimensional, self-understanding, human being which is really what we are all about. “It’s all about the renewal and rebirth of life through creativity.” R. Genn

“We must know that we are such excellent and exalted creatures that there is no limit to our importance, befitting the Artisan who made us.” -Rav Berg

What a life! You have hit the nail on the head, and though I am just starting my journey in art school, I know this is the path I will follow.

This letter is, as your letters often are, very relevant to my life situation. I haven’t had the heart to paint since my beloved husband Graeme died last December. Our art was an interest we both shared and he was so creative with so many ideas for future works. So my studio has been gathering dust all year and I have been trying to find peace and acceptance through reading books on mindfulness and meditation while struggling to cope with the grief and all the other things you have to do when you lose a partner. I am thinking now that maybe I can find that peace next year by spending time in my studio again – I think it is probably what Graeme would want me to do. Thank you Robert.

The artists life should be simple in order to focus on whatever idea is bubbling away on the back burner. Perhaps the meditative state is optimum for snagging the wisp of a whim as it drifts in and out of conscious thought. The pattern of waking and walking (biking/laundry/working out) followed by a hot shower and full studio immersion by 10 AM seems to work for me. Time must be set aside for gallery business, art related errands, packing and shlepping paintings and ordering art supplies, but only after a long uninterrupted stretch of painting: minimum six hours a day over at least three days, otherwise precious studio time is frittered away on stuff that can always be done when the muse departs. Prepping canvas for painting usually gets me going; figuring sizes and degrees of sanding gesso sets me up for the series to come. After prolonged painting for several months,travel is a welcome blessing. On my return I have plenty more ideas along with sketches and photos, not to mention all the inspiration from museums visited. It is a monastic existence, (with flat screen TVs, good movies and music, the internet, a selection of art books, art magazines and occasional foreign travel). We serve the muse better when body and soul are fed. South Pasadena, CA

My respect for you have grown many folds after knowing your life. I too some time feel the same and like to live a very very simple life without any wants but desire to do my creative works. Truly doing creative work is our prayer to God. Your letter is very inspiring.

Some artists thrive at painting for audiences. The more people around, the better. My artist friends and I participate in painting parties- a gathering of artists who entertain non-artsy friends, and usually accompanied by musicians. Even local restaurants and pubs hold events for these types of artists to come and create for people. It is always a blast and productive.

I just want to say I love your philosophy about life and art. You must be one exceptional person. Please keep your remarks coming. I know your postings are just as important to other artists as to me. I wish I lived closer to you so I could meet you in person and talk with you.

I relaxed and felt “in tune” as I read it.

All facets of my creation experience are my spiritual experience. No religion is necessary because my studio is my church and my heaven. Being in the creative flow is being the ONE creating. There is no other. Folks trapped in their mundane world experience which includes lovers/families/children, one which they have somehow chosen, rarely understand me. Frankly, I don’t care. But I do my own laundry and dishes, I wash my own clothers and take care of all mundane things, and I’m still a more than fulltime working artist. You choose what you want to do with your life. I chose ART.

ahh loved the sound of this letter robert !!!—-rings so true for me—-i’m a painter—-plein air —studio—-landscapes—still life—figure—- —i’ve lived in a one room limestone schoolhouse on 15 acres in rural missouri —— built in 1868—for about three years now—-with my husband tommy and my faithful dog emma—— —it is about 65 miles from st louis (not remote—-but definitely rural) my days are filled with yoga/meditation/walking/piano/painting/reveling in the nature surrounding me from lizards to passing clouds —–it’s glorious and peaceful—and my car does not move for days—-my city visits are based in love and connections to family and friends —–after 24+ hours though i long to return home —–my creative juice flows here—i am grateful.

If anything can be applied to being an artist monasticism is an apt phrase. Art is a religious experience when learning it, performing it and hopefully viewing it. My routine for the day is fairly predictable, even with the a non-ascetic discipline. If one is to succeed at making art worthy of notice, a large amount of self denial is necessary. This holds true for any vocation where one wishes to be successful. I had more friends when I started as a painter than I do now. Those I know today are other painters, gallery owners and artists in general. Actually, as selfish as it seems, I don’t have time for much of anything else; much to the chagrin of my wife. My entire world is about art; making it, viewing it, reading about it or going to see it. When in my down time from new work, I pull out old work that didn’t make the grade and see how I can improve it. See if it can be salvaged and made new again -this has been my latest goal. I am reworking pieces I painted five, six years ago that was never exhibited for one reason or another. I don’t consider myself religious in any traditional way, but surely I work, religiously, at the work I do.

Your letter Robert seemed so appropriate to my life experience at present. My nephew after two years of serious contemplation last week resigned from his job (in IT), gave away all his worldly possessions, said goodbye to whom we thought would be his future wife and has begun his journey to becoming a Franciscan Monk, living a life of prayer. The way your letter was written has helped me understand his commitment better. It is impossible for me to contemplate being that devoted to my art and saying goodbye to a loving husband and three beautiful daughters to lead a monastic (nun’s) life but every day and every hour I spend with a brush in my hand is pure joy and the peace that comes with it is a worthy reward.

My husband and I live at 7500 ft. in Montana. We are off the grid generating our own power with wind and solar. So, similar to your life we seldom come into town especially in the winter months which around here is 9 months of the year. Even with the internet to stay connected and reach out, there are times when we must get out physically to interact with other humans. Other than those times we are fortunate to have the beautiful God given surroundings to capture the ever changing moods of nature.

Speaking of monasteries, I leave Wednesday for a two week motor trip in France. We’re starting in Marseille and driving up through Provence and then over to the Toulouse region and meander up to the Loire valley and then Paris. It’s going to be a wonderful trip, but I’m already looking forward to my monastic life back here in Capo Beach come late October.

My house is a mess and I still don’t paint enough. I have stopped using the excuse of too many things to do as reason for not painting. Why aren’t I painting right now? It’s a psychological resistance to doing what is most risky, what is most important.

I have been made to feel socially inadequate by people around me. I did not realize what makes me just live & enjoy my work simply, in my own world of limited resources. My needs and wants have lessened over the years, not by sacrifice or control, I just outgrew those frills and drama. Thank you for this warm text, and encouragement to live a monastic life – easy and meaningful.

Thank you Robert for sharing your wisdom. I enjoy your newsletters and look forward to them. Fluidity…I’m constantly studying other artists work and wondering what makes their work successful and what I can do to improve mine. I found my answer – fluidity! Thanks!