Ellen J. Langer - On Becoming an Artist: Reinventing Yourself Through Mindful Creativity

Table of Contents

For Norman, always supportive and loving.

PRAISE FOR On Becoming an Artist

Ellen Langer, clearly one of the most creative people around today, has written another groundbreaking book showing through research and her own experience how and why pursuing mindful creativity may lead to the artful life we all desire. Its wit and charm will appeal to everyone.

DEEPAK CHOPR A,
author of The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success

Whether painting, writing, or just being, Dr. Langer, a renaissance woman, offers profound insights into how and why to increase our mindful creativity.

BETTY FRIEDAN

The unconventional originality of Ellen Langers mind wakes up those of us who, for fear of failure, do not dare to just do it. Her most provocative book opens for thousands of us a prospect, like Ellen, of becoming an artist.

R. B. ZAJONC,
Stanford University

Without making extravagant promises about releasing our inner Michelangelos, On Becoming an Artist is provocative, liberating, and in itself a significant act of mindful creativity.

JUSTIN KAPLAN,
Pulitzer Prizewinning author of Mr. Clemens and Mark Twain

On Becoming an Artist is a wise and most original book. Ellen Langers innovative study of why and how people let roadblocks stand in the way of meaningful creativity is a pleasure to read. With its keen insight into how mindlessness can be costly and mindful creativity can help people live more meaningful lives, it is a must read, especially for people who want to change their lives but havent quite been able to.

ELIZABETH LOFTUS,
distinguished professor, University of California-Irvine

Acknowledgments

THERE ARE MANY PEOPLE TO WHOM I OWE GRATITUDE FOR THEIR help on various aspects of this book. There are those who helped me with the art of painting, those who helped me with the art of writing, and those who have contributed to my endless pursuit of the art of living. With respect to my art, I want especially to thank Anthony Russo for sharing his wisdom, support, and friendship from the beginning of this adventure to the present. Sophia Snow, Barbara Cohen, and Del Felardi were also very helpful with their insights, support, and candor. Im grateful to Elaine Noble, Merloyd Lawrence, Marion Roth, Richard Beckwith, John Frank, Julie Heller, Jan Kelley, Linda Russo, and the woman in the hardware store on Conwell Street in Provincetown, each of whom is probably unaware of how he or she encouraged me in this pursuit. Rhoda Rossmore, by contrast, could not be unaware of her strong influence because she has been there from the beginning and has seen virtually each of my early paintings in various stages of completion.

Mike Moldoveneau and Pamela Painter, both in their own ways, played a very important part in helping me write this book. Michele Leichtman, Eric Rofes, and Phyllis Katz also gave me many useful comments on various drafts that helped me to clarify my thoughts both for myself and for the reader. I also want to express my sincere gratitude to my editor, Nancy Miller, for her support and encouragement for my work and my art and for putting the final brushstrokes on this book.

Writing requires that someone have something to write about. I am first a social psychologist. The social psychological research that my student collaborators and I conducted provides the evidence on which this book is largely based. Therefore, I want to thank Tal Ben-Schachar, David Borden, Shauna Campbell, Leslie Coates-Burpee, Matt Cohen, Brianna Cummings, Laura Delizonna, Noah Eisenkraft, Brianna Ewert, Emily Falk, Allan Filipowicz, Sarit Golub, Adam Grant, Brett Hemenway, Megan Kovak, Greg Kulessa, Amanda Mulfinger, Jesse Preston, Wendy Smith, Nikko Sommaripa, and Yulia Steshenko for their help with the many research projects described in this book. It is difficult to conduct research with special populations without the help of generous people who gain little except the pursuit of knowledge. I am very grateful to Alejandro Gomez Rubio, who runs the Dolphin Center in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico; to Kathy Streeker, who runs the New England Aquarium; and to Ellen Ventura, who owns Van Elgers dog boarding in Dartmouth, Massachusetts.

David Miller, my agent, editor, art critic, and most important, dear friend, has been the most essential person from the beginning to the end of this project. Among other things, it was he who managed to help me integrate what may have seemed at times to be at least two separate books into what finally became On Becoming an Artist. Our trips to museums and wonderful discussions about art and life are very precious to me.

Finally I want to acknowledge Nancy Hemenway, who is the single most significant person to my successful engagement in all phases of this book. It is to her that I turned to see if the ideas were meaningful, whether I should keep or delete any particular written material, and if I should add more detail or color to each of my paintings. I owe her dearly, not just for all the fancy brushes, paints, and canvases she gave me but for giving me a new passion for my lifetime.

Introduction

ALL IT TAKES TO BECOME AN ARTIST IS TO START DOING ART.

I spend my summers on Cape Cod, and as each June approaches, Im reminded how lucky I am to be an academic and have some time off from teaching. At the beginning of the summer the plan is always the same: play tennis in the morning, have lunch with friends, and then write in the afternoon before breaking for the evenings activities. Rarely do I come close to following this plan, but one summer I deviated not only from the plan but from anything I might have imagined previously.

It had been raining almost nonstop all week when I ran into an artist friend, Jane Winters, in town. She asked what the day held for me, and to my surprise I said I was thinking of taking up painting. I have no idea why I said that. I dont think Id had more than a fleeting thought or two about painting in my entire life up to that point. Yet Jane not only encouraged me to paint but insisted we go to her studio so she could give me some small canvases to start me on my way. I said one would be enough, but she insisted that I take five. Your first painting shouldnt be too precious, she said, warning me of the critiques Id soon face.

Coincidentally, later that afternoon I had to deliver something to another artist friend, Cy Fried. His wife, Miriam, is also a painter, and while I was at their house I mentioned to her that I was thinking of taking up painting. (It had become my what-do-you-say-to-a-painter-when-you-dont-know-what-else-to-say response.) She replied, Thats great. Now get yourself a large canvas and just do it. Dont evaluate your work. Just do it. Except for the size of the canvas, Janes and Miriams advice had been the same: Dont let judgments get in your way.

A week or so later, I did my first painting on a small wooden shingle I had found. The painting was of a girl on a horse, racing through the woods. I was surprised at how much I liked it. I was afraid to show it to anybody, yet at the same time I felt compelled to find out if someoneanyonethought it was any good. I decided to show it to the woman in the art supply store in Provincetown where I had bought my first tubes of paint. She didnt know me, and I thought with my clinical skills as a psychologist Id be able to decode her reaction if she pretended to like it. I dont remember exactly what she said when I showed her the painting, but I do remember feeling that she genuinely appreciated it. I know now that no matter what she had said, Id had enormous fun painting and I knew I didnt want to stop. So I didnt.