On Working Incrementally

I am often asked how I can do so many things, and include some type of a sleep cycle.

Everything we do is incremental in some way. Activities that involve making something are almost always reliant on a series of linear or non-linear action chains, sometimes taking place in a period of weeks, months or years.

The work of artist Chuck Close is a prime example of an incremental process. In fact this process was his primary modus operandi, giving him an easy way to make and finish huge pieces based on simple methods and processes, reduced to simply making a series of marks on a surface assiduously every day for years on end.

But this is not to say works of art can't be made quickly. Japanese brush painting, snapshot photography and even pop songs are incremental in the sense that there may be an incubation period or preparatory period that precedes the actual creative act: brushes are organized and staged, cameras are armed, batteries charged, shots are scouted, lyrics are hewn over cups of coffee and cigarettes--all part of the incremental process.

To work incrementally, adding something in dribs and drabs, is an affirmation of life, filling the black/white void with the appearance of something.

We all work incrementally whether we like it or not. To do it intentionally is a way of making the passage of time a tangible, palpable and sometimes beautiful thing. To simply be a passive watcher of time is to be satisfied with a black void, a penultimate stage of death.

Make something every day--and life lives on for you.