Posts Tagged ‘The Art Of Not Sucking’

February 25, 2013

“I fell in love with my work and gave my life to it.”

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[NOT EXACTLY the Jiro ethos etc.]

[Watch the film clip here.]

Every­body knows I’m a HUGE fan of the docu­men­tary, Jiro Deams Of Sushi, and why: Because I never saw anyone before this do a bet­ter job of comm­mu­ni­ca­ting the impor­tance and value of “Mas­tery”, both mate­rial and spi­ri­tual. At least, not with film.

Jiro beau­ti­fully and suc­cinctly explai­ned his phi­liosphy in this film clip on You Tube, about 29 minu­tes into the actual movie. Even if you never intend on ren­ting this superb docu­men­tary, this little nug­gest I’m sha­ring I think is insa­nely valua­ble in its own right, for anyone who has the smarts to take it fully on board. I hope it helps.

TRANSCRIPT:

Sho­ku­nin try to get the highest qua­lity fish and apply their tech­ni­ques to it.

We don’t care about money.

All I want to do is make bet­ter sushi.

I do the same thing over and over, bit by bit.

There is always a year­ning to achieve more.

I’ll con­ti­nue to climb, trying to reach the top, but no one knows where the top is.

Even at my age, after deca­des of work, I don’t think I’ve achie­ved perfection.

But I feel ecs­ta­tic all day… I love making sushi.

That’s the spi­rit of the sho­ku­nin.

When to quit? The job you’ve wor­ked so hard for?

I’ve never once hated this job.

I fell in love with my work and gave my life to it.

Even though I’m 85 years old, I don’t feel like retiring.

That’s how I feel.

You can see my orig­nial riff on Jiro and Mas­tery here (one of my most impor­tant blog posts of the last year, incidentally); I’ve also now inc­lu­ded it in Chap­ter 9 of  “The Art Of Not Suc­king” e-book. Hope it helps.

Also, for anyone who cares, the music in the clip is Max Ricter’s ‘infra 5″. Rock on.

February 22, 2013

The “B-Book”. A new book medium in the making?

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[THOUGHTS ON THE B-BOOK FORMAT]

We have hard­back books, we have paper­back books, we have Kindle books, we have e-books, we have iBooks…

I’ve had some suc­cess with all of those, over the years…

But the for­mat that has given the most joy over time, is the B-book i.e. the blog book.

The B-book is a book that starts life out as a blog post. My first book, “Ignore Every­body” began life that way, as did my friend, Aus­tin Kleon’s delight­ful clas­sic, “How To Steal Like an Artist”.

Sure, both became mains­tream bes­tse­llers later, but only AFTER their magic was already igni­ted all over the web. In B-book for­mat, both have been seen by lite­rally millions of peo­ple. “Ignore Every­body” has been down­loa­ded well over 5 million times over the years, maybe 10 million. That’s an inc­re­di­ble num­ber, really.

Whe­reas most blog posts get buried and for­got­ten within days, often hours, B-books keep get­ting dis­co­ve­red again and again, pas­sed around again and again, fore­ver. The ori­gi­nal Ignore Every­body is almost a decade old, and it still gets read by thou­sands of peo­ple, every month. Most con­ven­tio­nally published books can’t say that, not even close.

The disad­van­tage is, of course, that it’s hard to get peo­ple to pay you for B-books. I never tired, frankly. I just assu­med if enough peo­ple read them, I’d find a way to make a living from it in an indi­rect way, eventually.

And time pro­ved me correct: a lot of peo­ple who first dis­co­ve­red me via Ignore Every­body went on to become gaping­void art collec­tors and/or cor­po­rate clients. Same is true for the other B-Books I wrote.

“The Art Of Not Suc­king is my latest effort; I’m also currently wor­king on another one about my client, Racks­pace.

True, the for­mat may not be for every­body. I’m totally OK with that, to be honest. It’s an exci­ting medium that, although I’ve been wor­king with it for almost a decade, I still feel like it’s new to me, it still feels like it’s a new world worth con­que­ring. Like I said, it’s exciting.

“All Art Is Religious Art”

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56. ALL ART IS RELIGIOUS ART.

[Just added the follo­wing to “The Art Of Not Suc­king” etc.]

Long before I acqui­red even the fain­test inte­rest in modern art, I was down visi­ting my dad in Hous­ton, han­ging out with a college buddy, Andrew. We were both about twenty at the time.

Loo­king for something to do, Andrew sug­ges­ted we should go see the Rothko Cha­pel, and so we did. I had never heard of either Rothko or the cha­pel before.

When we got there, all I saw were these big, dark, blank can­va­ses, not unlike the mono­lith in Kubrick’s “2001”.

I didn’t get it, frankly… I wal­ked out, unim­pres­sed. Some big, black rec­tan­gles. Any half decent house pain­ter could’ve made those. So what?

But the visit sta­yed with me, somehow. For rea­sons I couldn’t explain, for weeks after­wards I couldn’t get the Rothko’s out of my head. The pain­tings struck a nerve, one that I didn’t even know I had.

Nearly three deca­des later, I think I now know why. By pain­ting these big, black mons­ter pain­tings, Rothko was trying to get the vie­wer to “gape into the void”. He wan­ted us to con­tem­plate “The Mys­tery”, the awe­so­me­ness (good or bad) that is Crea­tion, that is the Divine, that is the Universe.

Deca­des later, I rea­lize that all art– the good stuff, any­way– is trying to get us to do the same thing: Unders­tand the immen­sity of exis­tence, wha­te­ver that might mean.

Do you have to be reli­gious to do that? Of course not. No mat­ter what you believe, call it either God or The Void or the Phy­si­cal Uni­verse or something else alto­gether, the immen­sity is still there. What Wer­ner Her­zog calls the “Ecs­tas­tic Truth” is still there.

And it’ll always be a mys­tery; your exis­tence in it will also remain a mys­tery, no mat­ter what the cle­ver folk in the TED videos may tell you.

So I wrote that line down, “All Art Is Religious Art”.

All art is trying to be a con­duit… of Ecstatic Truth.

You don’t have to agree with me, but the older I get, the more I believe it myself, the more I want to live like it IS true.

And we are here. And it’s immense. And it’s a mystery. And…

And maybe it applies to stuff other than “Art”? Like maybe some of the stuff you do, to make a living, perhaps?

Maybe what you do for a living is more mea­ning­ful than it sounds.

Just askin’…

.…

.…

[Note: If you like what you see, please subsc­ribe to my daily car­toon news­let­ter, thanks.]

[The Art Of Not Suc­king is a work in pro­gress, a brain-dump of sorts; it is by no means finished,  BY NO MEANS defi­ni­tive… More later.]

February 21, 2013

My next book: “The Art Of Not Sucking”

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[Read the whole first draft here.…]

I just fin­sihed wri­ting my latest book, “The Art Of Not Suc­king”. Rather than publish it as an e-book or regu­lar hard­back, I thought I’d just blog the whole thing, like I did with my first book, “Ignore Every­body”. Maybe I’ll publish it pro­perly later down the road, but in the mean­time, I wan­ted to make it avai­la­ble to as many peo­ple as pos­si­ble. Enjoy:

INTRODUCTION

When I was atten­ding Uni­ver­sity in the 1980’s, I went and got a suit-and-tie sum­mer job in a large office in down­town Hous­ton, doing white-collar drud­gery for a big oil company.

It suc­ked.

That sum­mer, I was also in a pain­ful, Nowhe­res­vi­lle rela­tionship with a lovely young woman. That also sucked.

That year my college gra­des suc­ked, as well. As did my social life and finan­cial situation.

The whole year suc­ked, frankly. I suc­ked, my job suc­ked, my love life suc­ked, my situa­tion suc­ked. Suc­ked, suc­ked, sucked.

Over two deca­des later, I’m frankly still quite trau­ma­ti­zed by it. Ha.

Since then, I’ve spent a great deal of time and energy trying to figure out how to keep myself out of jobs, careers, rela­tionships and situa­tions that suck, how to keep life from suc­king in general.

Lear­ning how to NOT SUCK is one of our most impor­tant pursuits.

Suc­king is the enemy. Indeed.

So when I was recently asked to give a talk to mar­ke­ting stu­dents at Unibe Uni­ver­sity in the Domi­ni­can Repu­blic, I deci­ded that hel­ping them learn “The Art Of Not Suc­king” would be far more use­ful for them, or at least, wel­come, than the usual text­book mar­ke­ting stuff they have to read on a daily basis.

Let’s face it, “Suc­cess” and “Fai­lure” are still too far away in the dis­tant future to be truly tan­gi­ble most young adults, they’ve still got way too much in front of them. That was cer­tainly true in my case, and every other case I knew well at the time.

Howe­ver, lea­ving the comfy surroun­dings of college life and hit­ting the adult world and fin­ding out right away that you suck at everything? That everything is going to suck from now on? That’s a real bur­ning issue.

“What if I suck?”

With gra­dua­tion loo­ming, that’s what college seniors are REALLY worried about. I speak truth.

College kids aren’t afraid of fai­ling, they’re afraid of sucking.

The talk I gave to the kids was so much fun, I thought I’d spread the love some more, by tur­ning my notes into a little e-book and sha­ring it with every­body. This is it. I hope it’s help­ful; thanks for taking the time to down­load it.

[NB: Many of the the­mes in this book were cove­red before, in both my blog and my books, some points more than others. If you expe­rience déjà vu, that is why. Secondly, to make it more fun to read, I did my usual thing i.e. ran­domly inser­ted some of my favo­rite recent car­toons in the mix, simi­lar to how The New Yor­ker inserts unre­la­ted car­toons into their pages.]

[Read the whole first draft here.…]