I talked with Joel Bush for over an hour on his show Capital. (Mostly about the way I operate online and the origins of the newspaper blackout poems.) You can listen above or download the MP3.
Questions and Answers (my interview with Chase Jarvis)
Can’t see the video? Watch it here. No time to watch? Download the audio podcast.
A few weeks ago I flew up to Seattle to film an interview with photographer Chase Jarvis. We talked a lot about my books (including the new one) and art and creativity in general. We also took a lot of questions from the live and online audience. The resulting video is sort of a 90-minute primer for my work. It’s probably better than any talk I’ve given.
I’m trying to figure out what it is about the Q&A format that puts me so much more at ease when speaking to an audience, and how to bring some of that ease into my talks. Chase made a joke at one point that I’m like a machine for giving 140-character ready answers. I joked back, “I’m a writer. Putting sentences together is my job.”
But it’s something more than that—I have a terrible memory for names and events and everyday things that happen in my life (which is why I need my logbook), but when I’m faced with a question from someone, it’s like the RAM in my brain boots right up and I can immediately access this database of quotes and lines from stuff I’ve read and written. I’m reading Temple Grandin’s Thinking In Pictures, and in the first chapter, she describes being able to access a library of images in her head like a computer. When she’s faced with a design problem, she can grab these images and try them in difference combinations in order to come up with a solution.
To me, a question is a kind of problem to solve, or maybe more like a prompt. Sometimes I do feel like I’m flipping through my blog tags and tweets and book sentences in these Q&A sessions, but I’m also making up new combinations on the fly—thinking on my feet. However: I’m making the thinking up on the fly, and most of what I say I don’t even remember later! This is why I try to record all of my Q&A sessions on tour: you never know what tossed off thought is going to become a new piece of writing. For example, one of Chase’s fans transcribed this line in his blog comments:
That’s the thing you have to understand about the whole process of art (or the work that we do) – you’re only half of the equation. It’s an interaction between you and the person who’s going to experience the work. The person who’s going to experience the work is bringing just as much to it and is just as important as you are.
I don’t even remember saying that!
Anyways, thanks to Chase and his team for being such great hosts. Seattle was really beautiful, and I hope we can swing back for the next book tour. If you ever get a chance to take the Coach Starlight from Seattle to Portland — do it! So beautiful. Some photos and video from the ride below:
Interview with The Cocktail Napkin
5by5 | The Cocktail Napkin #53: Copying Garfield on the Kitchen Floor
To close out 2011, writer and artist Austin Kleon discusses the myriad of ways he works to end the messy divorce between words and pictures.
Here’s a 30-minute interview I did with Jeremy Fuksa of The Cocktail Napkin, talking about Newspaper Blackout, Steal Like An Artist, and doing stuff online. (You can get it as an audio podcast—thank God—so you don’t have to look at my ugly face the whole time…)
TALK, TALK: A LOOK AT MY OFFICE AND SOME RECENT INTERVIEWS
On my two-desk setup with from the desk of…
I have two desks in my office — one’s “analog” and one’s “digital.” The analog desk has nothing but markers, pens, pencils, paper, and newspaper. Nothing electronic is allowed on the desk — this is how I keep myself off Twitter, etc. This is where most of my work is born. The digital desk has my laptop, my monitor, my scanner, my Wacom tablet, and a MIDI keyboard controller for if I want to record any music. (Like a lot of writers, I’m a wannabe musician.) This is where I edit, publish, etc.
On “How To Steal Like An Artist” going viral in an epic, 1 1/2 hour-long interview my friend John Unger on his radio show, Art Heroes:
It’s been a really big happy mess….People keep saying, “Oh, nice problem to have,” and yes, it is a nice problem to have, but problems still require time, effort, and sometimes money to solve.
On stealing from the avant-garde with Fringe Magazine:
What’s fun for me is taking this avant-garde technique and trying to make something fairly traditional out of it. Something you can send your grandma. Or your mom, maybe. Maybe not your grandma.
On “my vision” for Newspaper Blackout with E-Junkie:
It’s less of a vision, and more of a smell. The smell of marker fumes.
On art as a career with The Daily Brink:
My mom always bought me tons of art supplies, and we had scheduled time for making stuff every day when I was really little. She also let me bang on pots and pans with her wooden spoons. I spent most of my afternoons in high school hiding in the art room, but I never considered being an artist a serious thing to do as a career — I thought I’d go off to college and become a professor. A professor of what, I didn’t know, but I figured I’d teach and write books. Sometime in middle school I think I stumbled across the term “Renaissance man.” That’s what I wanted to be — somebody who does a lot of different things.
On my favorite books with Austin Eavesdropper:
I love everything Kurt Vonnegut and Lynda Barry and Saul Steinberg ever put out. I love Joe Brainard’s I Remember, which is a memoir made up of a bunch of sentences that begin with “I Remember…” I love Carl Jung’s memoir, Memories, Dreams, Reflections. I love Frank O’Hara’s Lunch Poems. I love William Maxwell’s So Long, See You Tomorrow. I love David Hockney’s book, Secret Knowledge. So many books! Since 2005, I’ve kept lists of the best things I read every year.
SHORT GAME
I feel like good stuff comes out in Q&A interviews — whenever I find a new writer I like, I seek out any interviews I can find. I’ve done a lot of interviews recently, thought I might excerpt a few here.
With Lori Hettler:
What did you want to be when you were growing up?
I wanted to be Shel Silverstein. I remember seeing his photo and his bio on the back of Where The Sidewalk Ends. It said he writes books but he also “writes songs, draws cartoons, sings, plays the guitar, and has a good time.” A Renaissance man. That’s who I wanted to be.
What’s a day in the life of Austin Kleon like?
It’s not glamorous. I get up at 7:30 and go to work in a cubicle. I work on a college campus here in Texas, so I’ll spend my hour lunch break reading, making poems, or browsing one of the good university libraries. I get back home a little before 6, have dinner with my wife, walk the dog, and try to get some drawing and writing done. I get into bed at 10PM and read until I fall asleep. Rinse and repeat.
With The Austinist:
I’m really wary about making art for other artists. I just think that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, because the best compliment I get from anyone is, “Dude, I don’t even like poetry and I loved your book.” You’ve got someone hooked that way, and I have to think if someone reads my poems and they like them, maybe that’s the gateway drug.
With Drew Dernavich:
Do you see any similarities with your book and the Dadaists?
I really don’t identify with the Dadaists at all. The only thing random about my technique is the article I pick. That’s it. Everything else is a process of deliberate choosing. Again, it’s the idea of turning this avant garde, random technique into something that’s readable. Tzara thought even a random poem would still resemble you, but I don’t buy it. For one thing, it’s not interesting to me as a reader. Why would I want to read some random gibberish that a guy pulled out of the hat? Now, Burroughs, he thought that the cut-up method could pull you out of your own ego. But frankly, I don’t want authors to escape their egos. I go back to my favorite writers to hear their voice, to experience their “best selves” that they’ve put out in their writing.
In other news, the folks at Badgerdog here in Austin raised $250 last night at their silent auction with this Newspaper Blackout goodie spread:
Beer, Sharpies and newspapers — looks like my studio.