Inktober has always been a fun time for us artists. I’ve loved picking and choosing my own prompts from Jake Parker’s list and combining them with prompts from other artist lists. But there isn’t one designed for intuitive art–at least not one that I’ve seen. So last year I started Intuitober.
What is Intuitober?
Intuitober is just like Inktober, only instead of prompts to inspire illustrations, these prompts are designed to be more sensory, emotion-based, and/or vague enough to have multiple interpretations. This makes it easier to work intuitively/subconsciously. Last year the prompt list for Intuitober was short, with only six scribble-evoking words to use throughout the month. But this year I’ve made prompts for the entire month of October. Not only that, but I’ve gone beyond the sensory-provoking words and have also added songs and poems to inspire your daily scribble.
And, of course, because it is the spooky season, each prompt has a element of eerie.
I get it. You had an unsuccessful event, or an unsuccessful class, or zero luck in sales for over a month and now you’re wondering if it’s time to dust off the LinkedIn profile in order to help pay the bills. You’re wondering why you don’t just get a “real job.” You’re wondering where you went wrong.
First of all, you’re not a “bum” so stop calling yourself that. Lazy people don’t run their own businesses. You’re just an artist who hit her wan in the natural order of things.
Right now I’m in the wax moment of this natural order. My creativity is sky high, and classes have never been better. I just sold FOUR PAINTINGS at the solo show in Columbia and I’m excited to see if any more sell in the coming weeks. Two weeks from now you will be at the St. Louis Art in the Park, something that, two years ago, was a far-fetched dream written down in your journal. And from this weekend until November, you are booked solid with events.
I’m not telling you this to rub it in your face. I’m telling you this to prove that you are successful. A bad event or a small pause in sales does not equal failure. It’s normal. Part of being an artist is recognizing that.
I can almost hear your thoughts right now as you enter this five-hundredth existential crisis. You’re wondering if you should just switch over to photography full time or go back to illustration because “back when you did that everyone seemed to like it.” I’m here to tell you NO. You’ve gone through this cycle a billion times and you always wind up right where I am today: back doing scribbles and teaching intuitive art and re-normalizing the website from the discombobulated mess we made when we decided to go ahead and try those different paths.
Those paths have dead ends. They aren’t your career path. They are passions of yours, sure, and very fun at times. But that doesn’t mean you have to monetize them. Why can’t they just be passions? Because you’re good at them? You’re good at gluten-free baking, too, is it time to open your own bakery? No?
This is not the time to be making any rash decisions. It’s actually the time to take a break.
Take a week or two (or longer) to do things that are completely unrelated to art. Take the dog on hikes, play video games with the kiddo, go for a jog. TURN OFF THE PODCASTS and DELETE PINTEREST until you get back into your groove. Get back into learning French on Duolingo. Take naps. Find a new show to binge-watch. Clean. Your. House. Anything to get you out of your own head.
Most of all I want you to remember your why.
Today my mindset is this: I want the world to know more about the power of scribbling and what it can do for your mental health. I want to create art that touches others souls and gives them something to ponder over for years as it hangs on their wall. I want my work to hang in a museum and promote the joy of going back to that childlike mentality of process over product. I want to inspire others to know more about themselves, to meditate with a crayon, to keep their own wordless diary.
And right now your bio at your solo show says the following: I’m a big advocate for the whole “l’art pour l’art” mentality, or “art for art’s sake.” Creating art simply for the process of creating it, to enjoy the feel of the pen or brush or Apple pencil, brings forth a different kind of honesty I’m not able to express with words. Intuitive art has given me the opportunity to learn more about myself and where I fit in with the rest of the world. For me, each piece comes down to one question: what am I feeling right now? I ask this question to determine what medium to use, what colors, even what music to listen to while I work. This can lead to a variety of different pieces, each of them a window into my deepest identity.
I hope you will take these words into account and take my (your own) advice. You’d be doing yourself, and your art, a disservice if you don’t. Don’t forget the Tao philosophy, the yin-yang, that the night will soon turn to day, the ocean wave will gush back, that the roots will curl into a sprout. Find the lesson(s) in your current Yin phase so that you’ll be stronger when you get back to the Yang.
This is merely the belly of the whale, and the character always emerges from that, and always emerges evolved.
My solo show, which I’ve been calling “Hidden Feelings” has officially been hung at Central Bank of Boone County in Columbia, Missouri USA. If you live around the area, or happen to be passing through, I’d love it if you stopped by to check it out.
For those of you who are not in the area, and for those of you who would like a deeper understanding of the works hanging on the wall, I’ve put together this list of each piece and what inspired its creation.
I get a lot of questions about intuitive art, both online and in the classroom. Most of the time I have a prompt response that satisfies the question. Other times I give a half-hearted response because I need to think over it some more. Intuitive art is weird like that. Some days I have it figured out and the next day I have no idea what any of it means.
Now that I’ve had some time to think them through I figured I’d come on here and answer a few of these questions that I didn’t quite have the answer for at the time. I also have a few extra questions in there that were easier to respond to, but I felt deserved to be shared with you here.
I’ve asked my Twitter followers this a few times, and I’ve asked myself this dozens of times. Because photography does and will always be etched into my soul. For a time it was all I did. Painting was just a hobby that came and went, but photography, for me, was forever.
That is, until a serious case of burnout forced me to put my cameras away for an entire year. I’ve since pulled them out here and there, but they haven’t become a third limb since. Which is why I always like to stress to those who are nearing burnout to take that break. Otherwise you might find your passion all dried up and the very sight of what used to bring you joy, brings you nothing at all.
It’s been several years since burnout nearly ruined my photography passion forever, and I have found a new love of the craft in teaching my daughter and running the free kids’ photography club in my community. We meet up once every two weeks at a specific location, usually outdoors and nature-y. I guide them gently throughout our walk, but I mostly just let them take the photos they feel is most important to them. And, just like with art, when kids are taking photos, they aren’t thinking about that “perfect shot.” They are just enjoying the process.
And seeing the work these kiddos create with their camera phones has been nothing short of incredible. Their work is raw, un-tainted by what “makes a good photograph.” They capture the world as they see it, often forgetting that pesky rule of thirds, and yet they are often amazed by their own work. As am I.
I’ve wanted to accept the idea of intuitive photography for so long because I really want my brain to be able to see the logic in allowing myself to use photography in my career. The whole point of intuitive art is to not limit oneself, to simply enjoy the process, and to trust it. It’s also a lot less planning and a lot more “go with the flow.” Should that not mean that grabbing a camera when the feeling presents itself is part of that process?
But see we adults have been conditioned to see the world a certain way. A lot of us artists/photographers know what makes a good photograph. We have rules in our brains about framing and the golden ratio and aperture and shutter speed.
We also have this problem with muddying up our Instagram grid or our portfolios. If I suddenly start adding photography to the mix, won’t it look like I’m an artist who has no idea what she wants? We’re told it’s unprofessional to have work that isn’t cohesive. The word “style” is shoved down our throats. And even those of us who believe style is a reflection of who we are, and not an aesthetic, we still fear our work doesn’t look the “same enough.”
Which is why the question often presents itself to me without an answer. Can photography truly be intuitive when the very act of it requires a bit of preparation? Much more than grabbing a brush pen or filling a cup of water?
And, not surprisingly, when I asked the #believeinfilm community on Twitter, they gave the question a resounding yes.
So, I guess that’s our answer.
It appears that Photography, like all mediums, has both an intuitive approach and a methodical approach (and probably a dozen other approaches that I haven’t even heard of yet). For instance, an artist who plans out her work beforehand, sketching several thumbnails based on a still life, following these thumbnails with color composition studies, and then painting the final image in a large format would be considered more methodical than intuitive. The same is true for a photographer who shoots weddings, who has a specific set of poses she needs to take and has to focus very critically on lighting and composition in order to please her customers.
So how would one photograph intuitively?
Well, for starters, you need to know the general logistics of photography. The whole point of intuitive art is to enjoy the process, and you can enjoy it more when you’re not worrying about whether or not your shot will be too dark or blurry or warm. Get to know your camera. What makes it work? Understand manual mode. Not only will it bring you closer to the incredible invention that is a camera, it is also a great way to learn the logistics.
Intuitive painting is often automatic, scribbly, a dance of brush strokes, speckles, and drips. It’s often abstract, with very little, if any, figurative elements (I say “often” because I have seen intuitive art that was also figurative). This might seem like the artist picked up a brush for the first time and just splashed around, but the artists who do intuitive art for a living know the logistics. They know color theory and what substrate they like best. They know that lean over fat will cause cracks, and that working on the next watercolor layer before the first has dried will cause it to bleed.
This is what I mean by logistics. Know your tool before you use it. Know what ISO is and what it should be set at before you head out on that hike. That way when you’re finally in the “field” so to speak, the technical stuff becomes second-nature. You won’t have to think about the ISO or the shutter speed or the lighting. It will either already have been programmed by you, or it’s so ingrained in you that it will be something you can change immediately to fit any unforeseen circumstances.
Say you are taking candid shots of your kiddo running down a path in the woods, like the one shown here. But your aperture is set very wide and you know that if you leave it wide a lot of the image will be out of focus, which will blur out those trees that add to the whole experience. Understanding this gives you the opportunity to work fast. To quickly switch that aperture so you can get the candid shot without much thought involved.
But Lina, you ask, what about those kids in your photography club using only camera phones? They don’t know the logistics. They just point and shoot.
My answer to that is, while they don’t know what shutter speed their phone might be using, they do know how to hold a phone, how to tilt it to make it a landscape photo instead of a portrait. They know where the camera app is, and have even added a few other camera apps, which they learned how to use so that they could “play” with the new tools while out on a walk. A few of the kiddos even have editing apps, and will take a picture with a final image in mind, that they will then quickly tweak in their editing app before our hour is over so that they can show it to the others.
Know. Your. Tool.
Can photography be intuitive, even if it isn’t abstract?
This takes me back to the last bit, when I mentioned how most intuitive paintings are abstract. Most, but not all. A figurative piece that was created intuitively will have been 50-80% intuitive, and 50-20% methodical.
Take these two paintings for instance. I simply took two tiny pieces of Khadi paper and started to paint with oils, merely enjoying the process of smearing colors onto the textured paper. When I was about 60% of the way finished, I decided they were landscapes. After that, it became more about finishing the scene, adding necessary details, giving it contrast, etc., than about working from the subconscious.
Despite putting a bit of methodical work into the last bit, I still consider these two paintings intuitive, because they started out as blobs of color, of simply enjoying the process, in trusting that it would all make sense in the end. And it did.
While shooting photographs has a different process, the idea is essentially the same. Put yourself in the position of having that freedom to shoot, and just start with enjoying the feeling of the shutter click, the sound of film winding (if you’re using film) the dappled light you found on a single leaf. Eventually you will start to feel it on an emotional level, and you will realize what you came to shoot. These shots weren’t planned, and you couldn’t have foreseen a few of these intriguing circumstances—like that deer you saw with her fawn—but now you understand why you were meant to be on this hike, what you’re learning, how you’re changing.
This is where the intuitive photos arise.
Just as with all intuitive art, do your best to stay in the present moment. Don’t start thinking about how this is going to be good stuff to add to your portfolio, or stress about whether these shots will be accepted to a stock site. The only thing that matters right now is that dappled light, that deer and her fawn. The click of the shutter. The harrum harrum of a nearby bullfrog. The singing birds. The breeze.
If your mind starts to wander, don’t scold yourself. Everyone’s mind wanders. The important part here is to notice when your mind wanders, so you can bring yourself back to the present. It’s not just like meditation. It is meditation.
Can your photography career include intuitive work?
Absolutely. I think even if you’re a photographer who works for clients such as with weddings or portraiture, you can still get intuitive. The goal here is to find the sweet spot. To quote Adriene Mishler: “find what feels good.”
For this particular shoot, I was to take candid shots of my daughter’s ballet class as they practiced. I wasn’t getting paid, was doing it for the families, which can sometimes be enough. For about ten minutes. Then you realize you’re starting to take the same shots over and over and you get bored. This is when you have to find something new, something that gives you goose bumps.
That thing for me is sunlight. I love sunlight, the way it looks on leaves, casts shadows with trees, and in this case, creates textures on the wall and on the dancers. Ermergerd I was drooling for this light y’all. And that’s when the photos became works of art.
There are certain photography careers that I personally believe are required to be intuitive, like wildlife photographers, lifestyle photographers, and even sports photographers. Their goal is to think on the fly. To the point where they can almost predict when the good shot will happen. Wildlife/Sports photographers have little time to think about whether this will be the cover shot on a magazine. They simply click click click. Lifestyle photographers thrive on candid shots, since the goal of this type of photography is unposed and raw. They have to pay special attention to the present, so that they can get that perfect shot. The funny thing is, they may not even know which shot is the perfect one until they’re back at home editing. Finding these hidden gems is just delicious. Showing them to the family is even more exciting.
And although there are some photog careers that have little room for creative freedom, such as commercial photography, that doesn’t mean these photographers can’t do intuitive art on their own time. Not only is it a calming, meditative process, but working intuitively teaches us more about ourselves and our place in the world, which, in turn, improves our creative careers.
As for me, I hope to be seeing more photography in my scribbly future.
Until next time, may your cameras be well-fed and your subject matter be unpredictable.
Scientific American describes synesthesia as: “an anomalous blending of the senses in which the stimulation of one modality simultaneously produces sensation in a different modality.”
It’s too bad that none of that was in English.
To put it in words we can all understand: synesthesia is when one sense is triggered (ex hearing) and that triggers another sense to kick in as well (ex sight). So someone with synesthesia will see music. Another will taste the word marshmallow. Another will somehow associate a color for every person they know.
Keep in mind this is an involuntary response. We’re not talking about color coding your notes to do better on a test (although synesthetes are known to do better on tests because of their unique brain). Those with synesthesia just do it without thinking, and will one day be listening to a podcast and will learn that no, not everyone associates a color with every letter of the alphabet.
That’s what happened to me. I was listening to this episode of the Savvy Painter Podcast and learned that I myself was lucky enough to experience this phenomenon. You mean to tell me that not everyone associates the color blue with an A chord? That not everyone can smell the word house? Not everyone associates a color with people’s names?
Interesting side note: my first name Allina is red. My nickname Lina is a light, sunshiny yellow. The name Edgar is gray. The name Dean Winchester is a pretty chestnut brown.
Now I have what you might consider a mild case of synesthesia. When I hear a song I might see colors in my mind. Someone with a more intense version of synesthesia will actually see the colors emanating from a piano. Isn’t that wild? Superpowers exist y’all.
While I know that not everyone has this, I know that the external world plays a tremendous role in our lives. What we do on a daily basis has been, in some way, influenced by the external world. Which means that it can, and does, influence our art.
I gave an intuitive art class this last spring, during which I blindfolded everyone in the room and played different songs and told them to draw what they heard. It was a fun exercise and resulted in a lot of laughter and a lot of scribbles. And what we noticed was that everyone’s art differed depending on what type of music we were listening to. We went from classical, to jazz, to Barracuda by Heart. It was a visual representation of how easily influenced we are by something we can’t even see. It’s why they tell you to go for a walk when you’re feeling stuck. Just seeing something new in your day can knock the stone loose and get your gears turning again.
So, for Wordless Wednesday tomorrow, I want you to experiment with music and its relationship to what you draw/write/photograph/etc. Test yourself with a variety of different genres. Bonus points if you find songs you’ve never heard before. Let that song overwhelm you, become a part of you, and let it control your shadow self. Your arm is now just as automated as your breathing, your heartbeat, the very temperature regulation of your insides. Create from one song, then turn on a different song and start a new piece.
If you find yourself getting too critical of your work, to the point where you can’t focus on the music, then it’s time to put on that blindfold.
How do your pieces differ? What mediums did you want to change, if any? Is there a certain color you kept grabbing while listening to Stan Getz, as opposed to Ludovico Einaudi?
Not sure what to listen to? Here is a good variety of songs:
I myself will be hanging out on Twitter tomorrow asking for song requests. Every song that is given to me, I will draw. So head on over there if you’d like to join in on the fun.
Until next time, may your words be gold and your music smell like sunshine,
Intuitober is a small prompt list I put together for the month of October in the hopes of getting more people scribbling from the subconscious. The list is only six prompts long, and the idea is that each prompt will spark something in you that is more intuitive than literal. For instance, you can’t exactly draw a “crackle.”
Participate in the Giveaway!
In order to be entered into the drawing you will need to complete all six of the prompts. You don’t have to do them in order. You don’t have to do them all at once. Pick and choose based on your mood. Go with your flow. That’s the first step of intuitive art.
Once you’ve drawn/scribbled something inspired by the prompt you will then need to post it on Instagram or Twitter and use the hashtag #intuitober. Feel free to also tag me @linaforrester so I will definitely see it! It will also help others find me and the prompt list in case they would like to join in.
Again you can do them in any order and on any day(s), just make sure you do all six prompts before the clock strikes midnight on Halloween night (October 31st).
What will you Win?
Those who participate will be entered into a drawing and the winner will receive a “Wordless Diary” kit. In it will be one of my little hand-bound sketchbooks (made with thick paper good for any medium), a few of my go-to tools (pens, watercolor samples, etc.) and tips on how to get started with your own intuitive practice.
Intuitive Art Tips
For those of you who are brand-new to intuitive art, or aren’t even sure what it is, you can check out the following blog posts:
I also suggest you check out my podcast. Several of the episodes discuss intuitive art and how you can get started.
A few more tips:
You’re not here to draw a masterpiece. You’re merely here to enjoy the process. Pay attention to the way the pencil leaves a texture on the paper, how the ink bleeds, how the paint smears.
Use any medium. Go with what feels best.
Just as you would in meditation, keep mindful by paying attention to only your senses. How does the pencil sound on the paper? Have you lit a candle? How does it smell? Watch the watercolor spread into another color. Feel the pen between your fingers and the touch of it on the paper. Did you just get a drink of coffee? Savor it. How does it taste?
If you have any further questions or would like to join a community of scribblers, you can head on over to my Discord channel, Lina’s Scribble Club. There you can ask questions, share, learn, chat with other artists. See you there!
Until next time, may your coffee be hot and your autumn smell like chimney smoke.
I remember first attempting meditation when I was fifteen years old. I sat on the floor of my tiny square bedroom, the only light being a single candle in front of me. Twenty years ago, the internet was still in its infancy, and so I’m not entirely sure where I learned how to meditate. Most likely a magazine. Regardless, I felt prepared enough to give it a try. I did what the instructions had said, to focus only on the candle, and that if things pop into my head I was to acknowledge them, then go back to looking at the candle. I’ll be honest, as a fifteen-year-old that made no sense to me. I found myself focusing too hard on focusing, then drifting off to random teenager thoughts, before going back to focusing too hard on focusing, even squinting my eyes to make doubly sure I was only looking at the flame.
Nowadays, even with the internet in our literal pockets, I still haven’t found an article that can describe meditation efficiently enough for fifteen-year-old Lina. I think it’s because meditation is…kind of hard to explain. And for someone who is super visual, learning how to meditate by reading an online article, or a spread in a magazine, is going to end in squinty eyes and frustration.
It wasn’t until I took Marie-Noelle Wurm’s class on free form abstract art that I began to understand. Now, four years later, I have a firm enough grasp on the idea of meditative art that I feel confident enough to pass on the info. Especially for those of you who are visual like me, and need more than just a candle to keep your mind centered.
For this exercise you will only need a pencil and a piece of paper. We’re not going to go too crazy.
Next you need to find a quiet place to sit. Whether it’s in a coffee shop or a laundry room, you just need to find a place where there are no major distractions.
Finally, you can work in silence, or if you’re like me and are distracted by silence, you can put on some music. Make sure the music is also not distracting. Nothing with words or rising and falling crescendos that force you to stop to change the volume.
Before you begin, remember the only thing I want you to focus on here once you put pencil to paper is just that. The pencil on the paper. As you work I want you to listen to the pencil on the paper, watch the pencil move as if you are a bystander watching someone else draw. If at some point you realize you’re thinking about something else—that’s normal—then just return your attention to the pencil.
When you’re finally ready to begin, I want you to pretend you are writing, but don’t use actual letters. Just flourish and scribble and move from left to right as if you’re writing a letter. This is called asemic writing.
Once again, pay attention to that pencil only, even if you have to focus on where it actually touches the paper. Let your hand move automatically, not consciously. When you notice your mind wander, return to that pencil. It might feel tricky at first but once you get into the flow of things it almost will feel as though you are moving with your own natural rhythm. Because you are.
Don’t stop until you’ve filled the page with your “letter.”
Congratulations! You’ve just meditated.
As you practice more and more you will be able to try other methods such as filling your paper with circles or parallel lines. You can even move up to other mediums like ink or even paint. It doesn’t matter what you use or create, all that matters is you keep those automatic motions and focus only on the medium as it touches the surface. In other words remain present.
How do you like to meditate? Is it something you do daily or whenever you need the water to clear? Talk to me!
Don’t forget to tune in the Eccentric Chai podcast this Friday!
I’ve done something super crazy, that I’ve been prepping myself for some time now (and somehow keeping it a secret): I’ve started a podcast!
I’ve had the idea to create a “sister project” for the blog in the form of a podcast since maybe November/December of last year. I gave it a go in January or so, but since the blog didn’t have much substance yet I had to give it a bit longer before I had any material to work from.
But finally, a few months in, episode one has finally launched! In the episode I talk about The Wordless Diary: what it is, how it can be beneficial to your mental health, and how you can start one of your own.
I’d love it if you would go take a listen. The podcast is available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and more: click here to listen.
Be on the lookout every Friday for a new episode. Episode #2 will drop this Friday at around 10am.
Until next time, may your diaries be wordless and your days be enlightening.
My spring collection, Road Maps, has officially launched! This is a project I started some time in February, when I worked on mindfulness through drawing with only one color: black. As I worked, I noticed how each of the pieces would resemble a map one might draw for someone else to help them reach a destination. This, in turn, gave the series its name.
What I love most about these works is how they are similar to one another, yet somehow so different, which seems to resemble our own journey as humans. We are all on different paths with different destinations and have come from many different pasts, but we are all on our own trek toward something. What are you trekking toward?
The tiny details in each piece also give the viewer pause, which shows him/her the importance of being present. We may be from somewhere and on our way to somewhere else, but the only thing that is certain is the right now. Who you are today is the most important you.
Each of these works was intuitively drawn, with the occasional conscious thought here and there to give it the attention it deserves. All of them tell a story for me, but that’s my own story. It’s the stories they tell you that give these works a funny kind of magic. What you see in one drawing may be the complete opposite of what another sees.
Finally, I noticed that I was merging both man-made objects with the natural world, which resonates quite deeply with my belief that we as humans are a part of nature, not a separate entity.
Scribble Chai 