Hiya Friends!
I thought that one day I might find the time to publish a blog, or make a podcast, or you know, eighteen-hundred other things. Like every one of those things in my constantly swirling constellation of ideas, there's been no good reason to do, or not to do, work on any of them. And, despite my most ardent endeavors, I'm just not getting any younger with the passage time. So, I'd better spit it out now. Hope you find it interesting.
I first started this project with a little voice memo, dictated into my phone. "Welcome to 'I Didn't See That Coming,' a conscious pursuit of the transcendental." But, I promise, you really don't want to hear the rest of that end-over-end plunge down the rabbit hole, an introspective stream-of-consciousness that falls even farther into a tangential, sophomoric cul de sac of nonsense.
What is worth the telling is how I come to do the myriad of things I find that I must. For those who don't know me, I make a very modest living as a maker of kinetic objects, most of them comprised of some sort of mechanized legerdemain. Many of you will already be in possession of one of the several thousand pieces I've made and marketed, over the last seven years, called MechaniCards. These are a collection of self-contained, miniature mechanical curios, powered by tiny hand cranks, and made largely of paper.
I had this notion that if I was able to get enough of these pieces out into the world, there would come a tipping point, where demand would drive me to establish something along the lines of a "real" business concern; one with a payroll full of employees, work stations, production schedules, finance, and sales people. Early on, someone wiser than me could have observed that this was not going to happen, for various reasons I won't go into now. Full confession: In my heart of hearts, I didn't really want that to happen. I knew it; hated that I knew it; hated that I didn't have a better idea of how to proceed otherwise. So, I got what I wanted... sort of.
Now and then, I'm called upon to apply my skills in the production of my fellow artists' confabulations. That can be a lot of fun. It can be very stressful, too. The pressure is nearly always on, to simultaneously design reliable yet inexpensive solutions for problems previously undeveloped, or even eschewed by other, perhaps more sensible practitioners, and in a fraction of the time that even I would consider doable, under ordinary circumstances. It probably takes a special kind arrogance or hubris to take on such challenges. And, I seem to gravitate towards them, or maybe them to me. I don't know if it matters.
I probably developed a sense of "anything is doable" from childhood observations of my dad, who seemed to know about, or be able to do most anything requiring technical or intellectual prowess. To this day, I enjoy him as my own private consultant in matters of higher mathematics, physics and science, in general. It's a good thing, too. The opportunity to absorb a formal academic education, one I thought I was surely destined for, sort of sifted through my fingers like sand, whilst busy being seriously upset about my adolescence. And, I was not helped by the socially explosive 1960s and '70s raging about my barely comprehending and increasingly procreative-driven brain. It was a good thing I was actually destined to be an artist, even though I had little appreciation for what that meant, for a long, long time. Ironically, I couldn't even make myself attend art school for more than a semester. What a sweet surprise it is to find my dad has come to appreciate my artistic skills, much as I do his own acumen.
Being an artist is really a curse, though. An artist is a person with an otherwise perfectly intelligent mind, generally strong capabilities and motivations, who is somehow twisted into engaging in the most utterly irrational practices, ignores the best advice on conducting one's affairs, and then, to put a topper on the absurd, expects some kind of recognition, dare I say even "accolades" for what results.
So, why am I telling you all this? Like so many people who've asked me questions such as, "Where do you get your ideas from?" and "How do you know how to do thus and so?" I too think this is a legitimate path of inquiry: exploring just what it is that goes on in the creative mind. So, here, I'm hoping to have some fun in the asking, trying to come up with some interesting answers; probably arriving at many more questions; hoping to stumble on serendipity, mixed with a bit of confusion, and the odd surprise that causes you to say, "I didn't see that coming!"
-Brad
I first started this project with a little voice memo, dictated into my phone. "Welcome to 'I Didn't See That Coming,' a conscious pursuit of the transcendental." But, I promise, you really don't want to hear the rest of that end-over-end plunge down the rabbit hole, an introspective stream-of-consciousness that falls even farther into a tangential, sophomoric cul de sac of nonsense.
What is worth the telling is how I come to do the myriad of things I find that I must. For those who don't know me, I make a very modest living as a maker of kinetic objects, most of them comprised of some sort of mechanized legerdemain. Many of you will already be in possession of one of the several thousand pieces I've made and marketed, over the last seven years, called MechaniCards. These are a collection of self-contained, miniature mechanical curios, powered by tiny hand cranks, and made largely of paper.
I had this notion that if I was able to get enough of these pieces out into the world, there would come a tipping point, where demand would drive me to establish something along the lines of a "real" business concern; one with a payroll full of employees, work stations, production schedules, finance, and sales people. Early on, someone wiser than me could have observed that this was not going to happen, for various reasons I won't go into now. Full confession: In my heart of hearts, I didn't really want that to happen. I knew it; hated that I knew it; hated that I didn't have a better idea of how to proceed otherwise. So, I got what I wanted... sort of.
Now and then, I'm called upon to apply my skills in the production of my fellow artists' confabulations. That can be a lot of fun. It can be very stressful, too. The pressure is nearly always on, to simultaneously design reliable yet inexpensive solutions for problems previously undeveloped, or even eschewed by other, perhaps more sensible practitioners, and in a fraction of the time that even I would consider doable, under ordinary circumstances. It probably takes a special kind arrogance or hubris to take on such challenges. And, I seem to gravitate towards them, or maybe them to me. I don't know if it matters.
I probably developed a sense of "anything is doable" from childhood observations of my dad, who seemed to know about, or be able to do most anything requiring technical or intellectual prowess. To this day, I enjoy him as my own private consultant in matters of higher mathematics, physics and science, in general. It's a good thing, too. The opportunity to absorb a formal academic education, one I thought I was surely destined for, sort of sifted through my fingers like sand, whilst busy being seriously upset about my adolescence. And, I was not helped by the socially explosive 1960s and '70s raging about my barely comprehending and increasingly procreative-driven brain. It was a good thing I was actually destined to be an artist, even though I had little appreciation for what that meant, for a long, long time. Ironically, I couldn't even make myself attend art school for more than a semester. What a sweet surprise it is to find my dad has come to appreciate my artistic skills, much as I do his own acumen.
Being an artist is really a curse, though. An artist is a person with an otherwise perfectly intelligent mind, generally strong capabilities and motivations, who is somehow twisted into engaging in the most utterly irrational practices, ignores the best advice on conducting one's affairs, and then, to put a topper on the absurd, expects some kind of recognition, dare I say even "accolades" for what results.
So, why am I telling you all this? Like so many people who've asked me questions such as, "Where do you get your ideas from?" and "How do you know how to do thus and so?" I too think this is a legitimate path of inquiry: exploring just what it is that goes on in the creative mind. So, here, I'm hoping to have some fun in the asking, trying to come up with some interesting answers; probably arriving at many more questions; hoping to stumble on serendipity, mixed with a bit of confusion, and the odd surprise that causes you to say, "I didn't see that coming!"
-Brad
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