I've been slow to post these weeks. Erratic on this blog and on social media.
This is intentional, so I can focus on my work and life with more attention.
Today I head out on a two week adventure with my life-love to California.
San Francisco and the Central Coast.
I plan to be even more erratic in talking about what I'm doing and how I'm doing it.
So I can do (and not do) with more fullness while I'm away.
It's funny, that desire to apologize for not being present everywhere, everywhen.
Available to talk about all the things I'm doing as I'm in process.
But now, as I'm working on a new play, continuing a larger screenplay, co-creating a new performance with Migration Theory and teaching teaching teaching and preparing for a new job where I'll be teaching teaching teaching, all my social media activity, including this process blog, is getting in the way of my process.
I'm not pulling out completely from everything internet (except over these next two weeks), but now and come future I'm allowing myself to be more sporadic. And I'm all the happier for it. More productive, balanced and sustainable.
I look forward to sharing with you what's happening (and how and why I'm doing what I'm doing) when it feels relevant to my work and life. When it feels helpful to me and maybe to you. I will likely find more of an Anne Bogart blog posting schedule than an Austin Kleon newsletter schedule.
Thanks for understanding, for reading, for being, for doing what you do best.
Whatever that best may be for you, keep doing it in the way that suits you best.
With kindness and gratitude at the heart of it all, perhaps.
Which is what I want to send you.
All my gratitude,
Shine the Light
I found this in a notebook I kept a couple years ago, writings during a fantastic workshop by a teaching artist specializing in Hip Hop Foundations for youth classes.
Shine the Light
I find the more I teach, the more I learn.
I like what comes from the word facilitator.
I don't like to call myself a teacher.
The closest I get is teaching artist, teaching writer.
Because of how much I learn from my students. My friends. Colleagues. The world.
I love this act of discovering,
Learning something new every day about space, time, me, you, family, us.
I don't always like what I learn but I like the light shone on this new bit of globe.
I want to share my process,
As much as I want to share my work,
As much as I want to travel and make new work.
If I could bring in that journey, my journey, learn yours,
We can share space together
In an attempt to figure out what we as an us have to say,
And what we can do about the struggle,
About the ugly, and find the beauty,
And mirror each other on this path to deeper understanding.
Slash. Span continents. All the self.
As knowledge as possible.
We as in us have to say.
I like that comes out.
Space time me you family.
What good is telling them about
My love if I give love.
So that someone can give it back to me.
Keep an open mind.
Allow yourself to be excited.
Pretending that you know what you're doing.
It's a big teaching summer for me, one looking forward to brand new teaching experiences in the fall (to be announced soon...), so I'm glad to find these words now. Whatever they are -- process writing, poetic material, working notes, they pull me back to the core of what makes teaching a fueling part of my creative process.
Drop In Writing Workshop June 2017
Images Out of Thought into Meaning
This week, we created powerful pieces out of image banks based on abstract words.
I’d like us to start today by writing, in list form, in free form, however works best for you, all of the images from your day, from the moment you got up to this moment.
Warming up the mind/heart/body/spirit in this way, writing without stopping, and without a lot of talk or explanation, about everything you’ve seen, heard, tasted, felt, smelled, experienced, noticed. Be specific and go deep into each moment as much as you dare. Show us your day from your perspective, as though you carried around a video recorder from the moment you woke, one that captures all the senses and has a perfect memory.
How did that go? Let’s keep those detailed, concrete images swimming through our consciousness as we read Mary Oliver's essay from Upstream, Bird. Pay attention to what you notice, what words or phrases stand out, and especially what sensory images hit your gut and skin. Read it out loud if possible.
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Process notes on a work in progress (me). This mostly contains raw rough content pulled out of practice notebooks. Occasional posts also invite you into the way I work, with intermittent notes on the hows and whys on the whats I make. Less often you may also find prompts and processes I've brought to workshops, as well as surveys that help me gather material for projects. Similar earlier posts from years ago can be found on: