Austin Kleon

Airplane mode to stay grounded

On Nina Katchadourian’s “Seat Assignment,” from chapter 2 of Keep Going

I did so much flying for book tour last year — I think I took 50 flights? — that I don’t really miss flying at all, but I do miss Airplane Mode! Here’s how Rob Walker put it in his most recent newsletter:

I love the feeling of being so out of pocket that I may as well read a novel, or make notes about some long-shot future project, or fully focus on an episode of Snap Judgment, or whatever — basically do anything besides work that somebody else wants me to do. To borrow from a prompt in the book, plane trips are a great venue for “an appointment with myself.” […] I’m working on how to recreate this, and any answer will vary by the rules wherever you are. But consider blocking out a few hours of virtual “airplane mode” time — for you and you alone.

Rob also linked to this this NYTimes piece on rituals athletes use to stay grounded:

Kevin Love of the Cleveland Cavaliers said rituals are a support system for the mind. His 90-minute ritual before an N.B.A. game is full of activities that families can try at home, like yoga, stretching and listening to mellow, atmospheric music by the band Hammock.

“I named the playlist ‘Airplane Mode’ because it’s a way for me to just shut off,” he said. Families might want to create their own airplane mode ritual on weekend mornings where they play songs they’ve chosen together and do their favorite exercises or yoga poses.

I like that idea. Here’s what I wrote in Keep Going:

You don’t need to be on a plane to practice airplane mode: Pop in some cheap earplugs and switch your phone or tablet to airplane mode, and you can transform any mundane commute or stretch of captive time into an opportunity to reconnect with yourself and your work.

Less doomscrolling! More airplane mode!

A blackout from Show Your Work!

How I start a notebook

First, a link to what kind of notebook, because otherwise, dozens of people will ask.

Then, the weighing in:

https://www.instagram.com/p/CCLzv-UAvrS/

This is a silly ritual, but sometimes silly rituals are all we have.

Next, the selection of a guardian spirit to look over the notebook. I picked Durër’s Saint Jerome in his Study for this notebook, which is aiming a little high, but that’s what guardian spirits are for:

And that’s that. All you have to do now is fill it.

A pandemic diary

Here is a peek inside the second diary I’ve completed since we went into lockdown in March. It runs from May 2nd to July 2nd, exactly two months long. (That rarely happens!)

If you follow along with this blog, many of these pages will be familiar, but I think it’s interesting to see pieces in their original context. People often ask me of what use is my diary. If you follow the links I’ve included under many of the posts, you can see just how much of this blog comes directly from my daily diary work.

Here is a closer look at this collage, which I made to set the tone.

I spent a good part of spring obsessed with the blossoming of our cactus plants out back.

This collage was the real beginning of my house collages for Meg. The drawing was part of my series of 100 blind self-portraits.

I wrote more about Sam’s piece in the post, “Advice from a Caterpillar,” and here are more Humpty Dumpty collages.

Printmaking… with vegetables!

Every time we make a thing, it’s a tiny triumph.

Another house for Meg. (I made two dozen of these in this notebook.)

And yet another, with thoughts on how important keeping a diary is to me.

Usually I put guardian spirits in the front of my notebook, but this nun (who I gave sunglasses and cool hair) hung out in the back, maybe to egg me on.

Now it’s time to hold a weigh in and start a new notebook.

Exquisite corpse

Above are three “exquisite corpse” drawings my boys and I made this afternoon. (Top: Jules, 5; middle: Owen, 7; bottom: me, 37.) Exquisite Corpse was a game invented by the Surrealists:

Participants play by taking turns drawing sections of a body on a sheet of paper, folded to hide each individual contribution. The first player adds a head—then, without knowing what that head looks like, the next artist adds a torso, and so on. In this way, a strange, comical, often grotesque creature is born.

Today went more smoothly and resulted in more inspiring results than last week’s session, which, if I remember correctly, ended in tears. One problem is that we swapped which body parts each drawer was responsible for each time, which I think was confusing:

I’m trying really hard to get the boys to be more improvisational with their play together, particularly the 7-year-old, who tends to art direct everyone and to fly off the handle when things progress in a way that doesn’t align with his vision. (I’m not a particularly good collaborator myself, come to think of it.)

We got a good tip from this video: draw the neck and the legs slightly over the fold so the next person knows where to begin.

Update: we made a goofy video to show how it’s done!

 

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