Show Up Every Day, Make a Mark
Show Up Every Day, Make a Mark
No matter where you live, how much money you have, what kind of art you make, or what kind of chaos surrounds—or lives inside—you, you can carve out a space and a time to work every day.
That space doesn’t have to be grand. It can be a corner of a room, a table, a chair by a window. The time doesn’t have to be long—fifteen minutes, half an hour, whatever you can manage. The important thing is not the size of the space or the amount of time. What matters is that you claim it as yours. A small, steady ritual. A signal to yourself that your creative life has a place.
Even on the hardest days—especially on the hardest days—you can still go to your space. Even if you’re exhausted. Even if you’re anxious, heartbroken, or too depressed to work. Go anyway. Sit there. Rest if you must. Stare out the window. Breathe. Make a mark on a piece of paper. Move things around. Sharpen your pencils. Write a note to yourself.
It’s not about forcing anything. It’s about showing up. Let your presence do the work that your energy can’t. Just being in your space is a form of practice.
Most days, you’ll find that once you begin - however small - you’re soon engaged. One thing leads to another. A scribble becomes a shape. A sentence becomes a thought. An image begins to form. You don’t have to make something impressive. You don’t have to meet any standard. Just begin. Art doesn’t emerge from pressure—it arises from participation.
Start with whatever you have. Make whatever you can. There are no rules. No required forms. Let yourself play. Let your imagination wander. You’ll find, more often than not, that once you start, your hands will keep moving. You’ll make refinements. Adjustments. Something will catch your attention, and you’ll follow it. And just like that, you’re working.
Do that every day.
Show up, even when it feels pointless. Leave a trace of yourself. Capture the day. Mark the page. Stack the stones. Scribble the thoughts. Push the paint. Hum the tune. Say something into the silence. Make a mark and let it matter.
Not because anyone will see it. Not because it’s good. But because it’s yours.
This is how a life in art is built—not all at once, but little by little. Moment by moment. Day by day.
The Enemy of Seeing
When reading some of the scholarly articles in the Cubist catalogs I am currently perusing I am often finding myself disappointed at the things they are thinking and speculating about. The way I think about the Cubist paintings especially before the introduction of
Beautifully stated Cecil.
I can't agree with you more! Today I set out to write a poem. As I was working on it, it totally morphed into something different than I originally intended. I don't know how that happened but I kept trying on different ideas and found one that stuck. I enjoy writing on substack. Some
things are good, some things aren't, but that's OK, I'm getting practice and I enjoy the time spent.