James Chiang

Yoda wisdom — which borrows from Taoism/Zen — is a quick reminder that life is an active thing, rather than a psychological effort.

Some thoughts about efficiency:

Being efficient doesn’t equate to being effective.

Trying to be efficient places your attention from doing to efficiency itself, and that’s not very efficient.

When inspiration strikes, you take action, you don’t act only when it’s convenient or necessarily when it’s scheduled.

Chasing efficiency implies rushing and rushing ruins accuracy of execution, which means you’re raising the odds of screwing up.

Even when efficiency succeeds, it leads to overuse and formularization, and soon stops being efficient.

When you’re too results-oriented, you battle with process instead of flowing (in ease) with it.

Striving for efficiency is often disappointing because efficiency is a race against time, a battle lost more often than not because it places expectations against reality.

Trying to be efficient is basically telling your brain that you’re hating what you’re doing and that’s not a wise way of doing anything.

All good things take time — great art, expressing originality, having meaningful relationships.

When people say they’re saving time by being efficient, they don’t realize that time can’t be saved, it can only be spent.

The effort to be efficient is often met with conflict from within, namely a battle with your intuition or higher intelligence.

The experience of time is relative; when things are painful or boring, it feels too long and slow, but when things are great, it moves too fast.

Efficiency is analytical and comparative rather than immersive; you’re always obsessed with tracking the activity rather than being directly engaged with it.

Efficiency is ultimately about greed and wanting more life by hoping to cut attention short which is ironical because attention is what life is.

Speed comes with skill, experience and patience — things that require time to acquire.

Efficiency aligns itself with ideas about the future and skips the present. It doesn’t understand or appreciate process so there’s no gratitude for circumstances or the craft.

Efficiency is mechanical; it objectifies things, actions and events rather than connecting with them.

Trying to be efficient, you easily lose sight of the big picture. It’s short-term thinking.

Rather than try to be efficient about a task, choose either to do it with attentiveness and appreciation or not do it at all. Afterall, anything worth doing is worth doing right.

Efficiency often conflicts with compassion; for example, giving time to others is a sign of love and generosity, but cutting others short demonstrates the exact opposite.

You can be efficient and still waste your time if you’re not doing what you’re supposed to be doing.

Don’t dream of being fast, instead focus on being good.

Never forget that the very best things in life are both immeasurable and timeless.

Aiming for efficiency is a mostly futile endeavour. Good luck trying to be efficient with your artistic growth or in your relationships with people or that with spirituality/God.

A mind racing for the end soon realizes that life has been a blur, completely forgettable and over much too quickly.

“The worst enemy of life, freedom and the common decencies is total anarchy; the second worst enemy is total efficiency.” — Aldous Huxley, Writer

A short video summary of Dr. Iain McGilchrist’s profound findings regarding the human brain.

“We first make our habits, and then our habits make us.” — John Dryden, Poet

Much has been said about building good habits (and removing bad ones). This not what this essay is about. Rather, I’d like us to think about what habits really are and why they exist, and how they come to dominate our way of living and also how it affects our art.

You see, habits form naturally; the mind can’t help itself. Through the biological survival instinct to our mechanistically-inclined modern brains — namely, the dominating left-hemispherical portion of it — we tend towards the formation of patterns and systems. This is what helps us gain efficiency, namely that we don’t have to remember or re-learn something over and over again. It saves us energy and having energy is very important. The danger, of course, is that that very mechanizing process — which automates — makes us machine-like; we become less and less attentive to the reality of actual situations. The now, which is always new, direct, dynamic and human perishes from our perception. And for the artist, this represents the greatest danger. The artist fixed on formulas stops being an artist. For creation is always new, spontaneous, and unexpected. And much like love, generosity or compassion, it springs out of the unknown and unknowable. It cannot be willed into existence (much to the chagrin of our ambition, greed or insecurity).

“… you see, habit is a dead thing, it is an action which has become automatic.” — J. Krishnamurti, philosopher

Automated living is not living.

To be truly alive and creative means living attentively, not according to memory, tradition or conditioning. We are talking of course about our psychology, what happens in our minds. Clearly, many physical habits — or functional behaviours — are needed and useful: nutritious eating, good general hygiene and regular exercise being obvious examples. But mental habits that bypass our conciousness entails danger. In our relationships with our work and with other people, our mind’s perception is critical to the quality of the relationship and, given how our connection with the world around us defines our state of mind and our level of happiness, how we think and see things matters profoundly. If we’re stuck with engrained habitualzed ways of seeing with our preconceived thoughts and opinions, we will see very little of the truth and even less of creativity. The fact is we don’t think or see when we act automatically. For real living, is real learning and that is always fresh and non-habitual. It’s why I’m always weary, if not suspicious, of the idea of “good” habits. Whenever we do our craft – draw, paint, animate — we need to pay incredible attention to what’s happening infront of us. We must be alive and alert, which is a right-brain attribute. The studious creator “attends” to the work, watching and listening carefully inorder to feel what needs to come next. His discipline is that of the student rather than that of th authoritarian; he’s eager to learn, eager to understand. All ego is put aside. He forgets himself. He becomes aligned in harmony with the work.

“Seeking nothing, he gains all; foregoing self, the universe grows “I.” — Sir Edwin Arnold, Poet

Dealing with the paradox.

Now, to operate healthily in society we clearly need to have certain efficiencies — basic systems and patterned behaviours are necessary. It’s neither intelligent or pragmatic to have to re-invent the wheel again or expend serious psychological energy towards opening the fridge door. And without a well-functioning left brain, we’d struggle with language and with our abilities to use complex machinery such as computers. When we practice our skills, we’re essentially building short-term habits so as to release our brain from being too heavily taxed and allow us to focus on the more challenging aspects of our tasks. When I taught martial arts in the past and when I teach my students art/animation today, I train them to become very knowledgable and skilled so that techniques become tools — tools that become instantaneously accessible upon demand without expending the energy that consciousness requires. That is, they don’t have to think about it during the performance and, much like the pianist, who has masterfully incorporated his skills into his being, instead plays gracefully on the stage, completely at one with his music .

“Knowledge is useful until it gets in the way.” — David Bohm, Quantum Physicist

Making proper use of the machine mind.

Remember, thoughts impede performance; our talkative, critical left brain actually hampers our flow and the accuracy needed for excellence. In other words, the best approach is to encapsulate our mechanical abilities into our being, to become so well-learned that we can skip the mechanical and isolated concentration that was necessary during practice and at the early learning stages of the craft. We elevate the foundation of our abilities so that we can take on newer, more difficult challenges. This both secures us and frees us to see the big picture thus activitating the right hemisphere of the brain to work on what’s most important, the details supporting the whole, the whole no longer just the sum of its parts. It’s no wonder that master artists say “composition is everything” for all else is always merely complimentary to the larger vision.

A beautiful unfinished test by James Baxter reveals his approach and thinking. In the work of masters such as Baxter, seemingly mechanical concerns like weight, spacing or timing are almost instinctually executed, much as any good artist who naturally imparts balance, solidity and structure into his designs.

“Habitualization devours works…art exists that one may recover the sensation of life; it exists to make one feels things, to make the stone ‘stoney.’ The purpose of life is to impart the sensation of things as they are percieved and not as they are known…” — Leo Tolstoy, Writer

So instead of trying to build good habits or trying to destroy bad ones, simply be aware them. Know that they formed for a reason. If the reasons for their creation and existence no longer applies, then it’s time to move forward from them. Once we’ve truly learned something, we don’t need review the operating manual. We can turn our focus towards attentive discovery. Because to hold onto habits is inhibitive since all habits are old. Relying on memory and conditioning, habits will always compromise the “presentness” of life. By turning our attention to art, to creation, we become enraptured by the challenge that it demands; art thus frees us from living in habit, in tradition, whose roots come from the Latin word “treduc”, which means not only “to pass on to future generations” but also “to betray.” We betray the present when we become mindlessly adherent to mechanistic habitual thinking. But beware however, that mechanical thinking can be that of old thinking found in the typical prejudiced traditional practices or in the modern “enlightenment” approach that our hyper-capitalistic and technological world endorses; shiny technologies and trendy solutions don’t necessarily present anything new; we must be aware of the emperor’s new clothes. And since all problems are new, we can’t solve them with old thinking, fancifully disguised or not.