that's right, Kermit, it's called cooperation

I'm working on a collaborative painting project with Kat. We've been taking turns, building a painting. Despite my years of Sesame Street, I have never been able to wholly-grasp the notion of cooperation. I've always been fixed in the idea that I should be able to do everything on my own. That's true, as long as all I ever want to do is work that requires a singular perspective... and only two hands. Whenever you see pieces on artists, the tendency is to fixate upon solely the artist. Rarely is the stimulation, support and inspiration of fellow artists, lovers and friends shown, unless there's a sexual scandal involved. Although I logically understand that I need others, guilt drives me to think that I should be able to do It all alone. This project is good for me.

It's a bitch trying to collaborate on an artistic project - multiple ideas, multiple styles, and multiple people who have primarily learned to be artistic alone. It's a great test of compatibility, as well. I've had people that I thought would be perfect, only to find out that our personalities were toxic in a collaborative setting. You have to surrender a lot of ego but keep the fearless nerve to fail in front of others. Negativity is probably the quickest way to ruin it. I spent a couple of weeks trying to hammer out a screenplay with a good friend of mine and we couldn't even get past the basic outline of whatever-the-hell we were writing - it completely tanked. I would throw out ideas while he questioned everything I said.

The best book I've ever read on collaboration was Chuck Jones's book Chuck Amok!. Chuck Jones was one of the principal creators of the classic Looney Tunes cartoons. In his book, he outlined his process. Every new cartoon began with a "Yes Session" in which the director and writers would throw out ideas and everyone would build on them until a complete story was written. The key to making these sessions work, however, was that no one could say "no" to an idea - you could only build on it. With the hundreds of cartoons they were cranking out, there wasn't enough time to debate every facet of every story. The same thing is taught in actor improvisation. Nothing will kill an improv quicker than for an actor to say something and the other actor to simply answer, "no". It's a dead end that kills the momentum of a scene and forces the other actor to start over.

The thing about this collaboration is that I keep saying "no" to myself. After my girlfriend hands me a painting, I don't know what to do with it. I worry that I'm going to somehow ruin it or sabotage an idea that she had going. Of course, like every little drama that happens in my life, this effortlessly points to perhaps the greatest obstacle to my becoming an accomplished artist. I am very good at editing my work. I am ruthless with my stuff. Unfortunately, my editing voice likes to join in on the creative process. All the heart comes from that intuitive impulse that happens in that first moment as an idea becomes act. You cannot know whether something will work or not until you do it. One of the great thrills of creating is that you don't know where it's taking you. If we knew the outcome, then there would be no reason to take the journey. Hell, it's the reason for living. One of the beauties of youth is that ignorance of consequences. When you don't know any better, you can crash through invisible walls without a moment's thought. The challenge is to hold onto that impulse even as you grow older and have all that experience that's telling you that you should know better.

The key is to do things out of your comfort zone - pushing yourself to follow through on those things that you feel hesitant about doing. That's why this project is good for me. I have no control on at least half of this painting, so my editing voice is slowly being pushed into taking a rest. It has helped that my girlfriend is an ideal partner. She is creative, open to ideas and gently raises the bar each time we exchange. Her ability to discard and re-invent new ideas quietly presses me to push myself a little more - perhaps the very heart of why people collaborate. I'm getting better about letting go... stuttered and staggered as those baby steps may be.