Walk. Look. Create.

by Rebecca Cochran

Walking alone.....I’ve been walking daily since I was a little girl. I have my father to thank for that. I relished our evening walks together from my adolescent through teenage years. We’d set out, just the two of us, every evening after dinner, walking, sometimes talking, always observing the world around us. When we’d return, we were ready to tackle the dinner dishes and I was ready to tackle my homework.

Walking is a gift. It is something most of us can do for free. Walking doesn’t require any unusual talents. We don’t have to buy any special clothing (although a comfortable pair of walking shoes is recommended). Most of us can simply head out the door of our home or office and just walk.

Walking is nature’s cure-all. No matter how I feel when I set out on a walk, I always feel better by the end. If I’m tired when I start my walk, I’m rejuvenated when I finish. If I’m feeling overwhelmed with work or personal issues when I begin a walk, I am clear-headed and focused by the end. And, of course, the long-term physical benefits of moderate-impact aerobic activities like walking are well-known.

As an adult, no matter where I’ve lived – city or suburban setting, no matter the climate, I’ve always kept up my walking ritual. A daily walk, even a short one, is a must for me. I’m not one to listen to music or the news while I walk. I focus on my stride (to create a sort of natural rhythm). And I focus on my surroundings, trying to notice things that I’d miss if I were driving the same route.

I walk best alone. (Sorry, Dad.) Friends regularly invite me to join in their walking rituals, but I usually decline their offers. The benefits I derive from walking come when I’m able to think and observe in silence.

The simple act of a daily walk allows me to solve problems. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve begun a walk thinking I had a big problem to sort through, only to determine, 10 minutes in, that I’d been blowing the issue way out of proportion.

And, best of all, I regularly experience creative breakthroughs when I walk. These breakthroughs happen when I’m not even trying. The act of walking and focusing on my stride clears my head. Ideas flow naturally. Dots connect themselves.

Walk. Look. Create. It’s really that simple.

The Lure of Blue

Variations of blue

by Rebecca Cochran

What is it about blue? I’ve been aware for quite some time that I naturally gravitate to the color blue. According to an article* I read late last year, half of the people on earth list blue as their favorite color. Granted, much has been written about color theory.

When I was at the North Carolina Museum of Art again over the weekend, I made an intentional visit to Ellsworth Kelly’s Blue Panel. Each time I visit that painting, I try to view it from a new perspective. The work, a purely abstract blue panel, dramatically captured my attention during my first visit to the Museum’s new West Building in 2010.

As I continued my museum visit this time, I challenged myself to become hyper aware of what initially draws me to a work of visual art. Usually, it is color that catches my eye first – and oftentimes, the color is blue. Blue Dancer, sculpted of bronze with a blue patina by the Ukrainian-born avant-garde artist, Alexander Archipenko, is another of my favorites.

Wending my way through all the galleries, I notice that blue regularly lures me into a painting. The incredible blue sky above Georgia O’Keeffe’s Cebolla Church draws me in every time. I notice the sky first. Then, I am drawn in further to her unusual rendering of the church itself.

The cool, dappled, blue light is what first lures me into Renoir’s double portrait, The Daughters of Durand-Ruel (on temporary loan here from the Chrysler Museum of Art). I recently enjoyed the biopic, Renoir, so this work has a current appeal for me. Blue was its initial draw, however.

The same thing happens when I shop for clothing or home goods. Blue draws me to an item first. Then, I notice shape and texture.

As a designer, rather than simply using blue to be agreeable (blue is everybody’s favorite color, after all), I’m going to consciously work to use blue to lure others in. Blue can be a conscious element of a call to action in advertising. A blue button can be used to lure people to purchase online. (Blue links are blue for a reason, after all.) And, I think I’ll make certain to wear blue whenever I have an important presentation to make.

What are your thoughts? What are some other ways we can capitalize on the lure of blue?

*Read the New York Times article here.

Is Process Overrated?

Pierre-Auguste Renoir - La Ferme des Collettes

Pierre-Auguste Renoir – La Ferme des Collettes (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

by Rebecca Cochran

I saw the new Renoir biopic yesterday. It’s a gorgeous, graceful film that tells the story of artist Pierre-Auguste Renoir’s later years spent in the south of France at Les Collettes, a farm at Cagnes-sur-Mer, close to the Mediterranean coast. The film is lusciously filmed, acted and written. Every frame is ripe with symbolism. The soundtrack, replete with the chirping of birds and gentle breezes, fittingly sets the stage for Renoir’s daily ritual of painting en plein air.

By that time is his life, the early 1900s, Renoir was suffering from the effects of rheumatoid arthritis. His hands were swollen, gnarled and barely usable. In order to work each day, he had to have his brushes strapped to his bandaged hands. Barely able to walk, he was confined to a wheelchair. He and his wheelchair had to be carried to the location where he wanted to paint each day. It took four people to make this happen. Since Renoir regularly preferred to paint far out in a field, the woods or a hidden cove near the sea, those morning rituals made for dramatic visuals in the film.

Renoir had a process to creating his art. That process certainly involved nearly a lifetime’s ritual of painting every day — no matter where he lived, no matter the weather and no matter how poor his health. Beyond that, I don’t think he was able to define his process. It was as if he intuitively knew what to do.

There were a couple of moments in the film in which he tried to explain to one of his sons the process of mixing pigments to achieve a desired effect. He encouraged his middle son to “Visit the Louvre” to learn about art and about life. And, Renoir referenced the 16th century Venetian artist, Titian, several times in the film, so we can assume that Titian was a strong influence. But mostly, Renoir seemed to leave a person on his or her own, knowing that each of us is our own best teacher.

This Renoir film made me think about process, specifically the design process. Perhaps process is overrated today. Perhaps we’d all be better off going back to Renoir’s way of just getting out there and doing. Doing every day, day after day, for a lifetime. Rather than spending hours, or even days, attempting to define the process, perhaps we could accomplish more just by doing, learning, doing, learning and doing some more.

Maybe process really is just that simple. Renoir seemed totally comfortable with this no-process process. And, lucky for us, the quality and quantity of his work didn’t suffer one bit.

What do you think?