D.C. I work in quite an intuitive way. I'll expand on what I think that is later, but how would you describe the way in which you work?
R.P. Well that changes depending on what I'm doing. I work in quite a different way in my own work to the work with you. In my own work I often work blind, I have a vague image sound sequence or action in my head and start to work on it and see what happens. A lot gets abandoned while I'm behind a video camera. It just doesn't work the way I thought it would. But at other times new things happen.
D.C. Yes, I work blind. I understand what people mean when they speak of muses. I don't feel like something "other" comes upon me, but I do allow myself freedom not to think logically too much in the beginning. The editing process is far more labourious but I do enjoy it. I need large amounts of time to lapse, though, in order to see the work afresh and to become increasingly objective about it.
R.P. what do you mean by muses? The "time thing" has just become more important to me – it a luxury I haven't had for a long time. Time to think, instead of have to do and do and meet deadlines all the time.
D.C. Poets especially, but other writers too, have traditionally spoken of having a muse (like an angel or an agent from another realm) which comes and helps them write. The most intense version of this is when writers claim to be completely overcome by something OTHER than themselves when they write. I think there's a tradition of this sort of thing amongst painters as well. I just sometimes tap into my subconscious self and write. There's very little logical stuff going on: it just happens. But then, the editing process takes place. But, of course, as my technique has become better over the years, these initial outpourings have become better as an intitial product.
R.P. Hmm so does that mean some people are born writers? This sort of stuff is sort of weird. Because I've also believe that most people can be trained to be artists and writers. They might not be good but that is another thing again.
D.C. Oh, sure. I didn't invent the muse idea. In fact I found it rather abhorrent until it became part of my experience, and then I reluctantly admitted to myself that it did sometimes feel as if I was "beside myself" when I wrote.
To go back to the TIME thing, though, I'm glad you've found TIME and that you're enjoying it. Don't be afraid to call whole days OFF. I found it VERY important. Once I went and had a massage and then an enormous walk on a beach and LARGE portions of my thesis fell into place on that day. It was so amazing.
R.P. It's not some much time off, but a different way of working. I give the works time and walks along the beach and trips to the pool become part of what I do as work. So over the last few weeks when I've been writing and working on Archiving I've been swimming less. But I'm back now to pushing the video work again, I'm back to swimming each day. It's been about creating that sort of space, each and every day, that is going to be productive. The other thing I'm doing it writing about what I've been doing each day as sort of journal. It's strange, I've been missing this with archiving, I sort of feel like my thoughts are only one side of what is happening.
With the work with you, it's about reponses. I respond to the text, this response might be a scribble on a page, like Imaginative and that was also how I developed Travels. The major thinking of Towards was done in alake-side park in Helsinki with a notebook and pencil. Blue is different, I'm working directly in the space of the computer, that maybe why it's taking so long.
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