How much time does it take to make good art?

No, really? We talkin' 15 mins or 15 years?

The other day I visited a family friend's house across the river and stood in their towering studio that was larger than any house I've ever lived in.

I rooted through their art supplies, stood in front of their fished and half-finished canvasses and imagined what it would be like to have nothing else in the world to do but make art. To spend my days painting and drawing and pasting and coloring and maybe even carving?

The previous morning I had crouched over watercolors on the floor of my apartment, splattering paint all over the scuffed white floors (sorry, Theo!), absolutely mashing the heck out of a giant post-it note. The act was so ridiculous - and highly enjoyable.

After both experiences in such a relatively short time - taking 15 mins to create something lovely and messy, vs standing in a breathtakingly beautiful and meticulous studio the very next day - I was struck by how both acts (the mash AND the deliberate-life-dedication) produce works of art that to the subjective critic mean entirely different things.

And at the risk of exposing myself as the entirely immature artist, doesn't it make sense that both of these lives would be a "choose between, or else" kind of thing?

My thesis is such: in a world of necessity, constraint and scarcity - the only thing that seems certain when it comes to judging art is the dedication of time. The product, highly subjective, is defined by the hours freely given, by the space held and the intensity of lasting focus. To me, this is beautiful. The gift of the clear and the fuzzy.

I'm resolving myself this summer to dedicate of myself to creativity, art and messiness. Will check back in soon on the progress made, but I'm hoping to share some pieces with you all in the coming months.

And wishing you time, sometime soon, to get your hands dirty!