How to Get More Out of Documenting Your Process

I think every artist documents their process one way or another, whether they share it publicly or not. The photos you see here serve as records of my process back at the *original painting factory* more than 10 years ago, before I started this blog or my social media accounts. I thought it was fitting considering I will soon have to leave my current studio and move back there.

But this post was actually brought on by my seven-year-old niece. She’d made me a video a few weeks ago showing me how she made Merry, a little jewel-like monster cleverly made out of a plastic water bottle and who I just couldn’t help falling in love with on sight.
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Making Merry

My genius niece told me how she used wire for Merry’s hair, and how you can twist it round to give her new do, and how the different colours of wire stand for things (symbolism at her age, I’m so proud ^_^).

She took me through the yarn winding, the hole poking (kinda made me nervous), the velvet cutting ~ the whole nine yards. She even listed the stuff she used afterwards ~ a real prodigy <3

That, in turn, got me thinking about how process documentation seems to be all the rage these days ~ of course it’s nothing NEW. Artists have been recording their ‘works in progress’ since, I don’t know, maybe even the folks who did the caves at Lascaux would’ve taken pictures if they’d had phones lol

But I did notice an email I got recently from some folks holding a sort of contest or other where you gave in like a website or something, documenting your process or your artistic journey or something like that. Said it was a big deal on account of how, you know, a prompt can spit out what it would take a *caveman artist* like me aaages to put together in a studio.

Heck, that was the whole point of the show Ang INK put on last year.

But for me there are other reasons (aside from the obvious) why it might be a good idea to make like my brilliant niece. And focusing on these reasons might be able to help you get more out of every photo you take, note you scribble, or video you shoot (whether it’s the *whole nine yards* type or not).
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Know Your How

It’s always struck me how something that takes aaages to make (maybe not ‘in actuality’ but even just in your head) will only take someone a few seconds to take in on a gallery wall (or on a screen). If you’re lucky, the someone might raise an eyebrow, or if you’re luckier, smile ~ before they walk on (or scroll past).

We know this to be true; heck, 10 to one we do it, ourselves.

But more often than not, when we know how the thing was made, we end up (hopefully) spending a few seconds more to just take it in and appreciate all the work that went into it.

Like I tend to, you know, linger over a piece made using the same medium or technique I use (usually better eheheheh), especially if I can see it was used differently.
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Know Your Why

Also, knowing the why behind the making of a thing can make you love it (or at least appreciate it) even more.

And more often than not, the why is even less obvious or apparent than the how is, i.e. the idea, or, the concept or the message the artist is trying to get across. And you know how it is these days with the shrinking attention spans ~ not everybody wants to spend even more seconds staring at your work and figuring out what it means.

Now I’m not saying you should change what you’re doing on account of this; I, for one, wouldn’t ~ I’m just, speaking from a place of plain observation (and maybe my former day job ^^; )

And having said this, documenting the why as well as the how can go a long way toward helping people experience your work on an even deeper level (and what artist wouldn’t want that, right).

At very least, you’ll have a ready answer if anybody just straight up asks you ‘What’s your process?’ ^o^

Autopsies for Artists

Having mentioned my ex-job, there was something we used to (and I daresay, dread) called a post-mortem ~ usually when a campaign or some event we worked on effed up.

For those of you who aren’t familiar (or who work in forensics or something and would know the term that way) a post-mortem is basically just looking back and figuring out what went (very) wrong. (Post-mortems for things that went very right have been super rare in my experience because who has time for that.)

The last time I was in one was when the agency I was working with lost a long-time client. I remember saying that it was because the strategy was out of whack and no one had been keeping an eye on things, so they very naturally went to shite.

Documenting your process gives you something on top of your finished piece for you to look back on to see what you could’ve done better or differently ~ the latter just might be another avenue for you to explore later on. And obviously, the former just might save you some grief (or even avoid any accidents that might have happened during the process in question).

Know Your What

So on top of how and why, here are some what questions you can maybe ask during a post-mortem:

•  What did you want to achieve with this piece?
•  What do you love most about this piece?
•  What did you love most about making this piece?

•  What did you not love about making this piece?
•  What would you change if you could do this piece over?
•  What would have made this piece better or stronger?

•  What is the most important thing you learned from making this piece?
•  What is going to change in your practice because of it?

You don’t have to write the answers down or anything ~ at least, for your documentation process ~ but just asking and reflecting on them in your head as you take or review those photos, videos, or notes might be helpful ^^
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Documenting For Others

Documenting your process takes sharing is caring to another level when you share your process with other artists in particular. I mean there’s a difference between sharing ‘here’s how I did this thing, step one, step two, step three’ ~ and ‘here’s me while I’m doing it, watch’. Kind of like how reading a cookbook and watching a cooking show are different.

I mentioned avoiding accidents and such a while back; but other reasons for documenting your process and getting more out of documentation have to do with helping artists with their own practice. I guess that’s more obvious for artists who are just starting out; sharing your process with them might help shorten their learning curve or even inspire them somehow.

But I think the two-way sharing of creative processes might be helpful no matter where you are on your *path as an artist*. Newer artists might be able to get advice and artists who have been practising longer might discover new or better ways do things.

Like I also mentioned how I like to check out works by other artists using the same medium as myself; it makes sense for me to be interested in how they do things, as well. I know I don’t know everything and I think there’s always something you can learn.

In any case I think it’s wonderful when artists are able to stick together as a community and support one another that way ^_^**
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Dear Diary

But of course, if you’re selfish like me (haha just kidding), ultimately you document your process along with your finished work for yourself. Lately, more than ever, I’m realising that I may not be able to make things for much longer, or at least, not like I used to or want to.

So documentation is my way of saving things for me to look at later for when it’s all over ~ so I’ll have something to remember me by haha, for when I was an artist. I’ve spoken about this in my posts on painting for memory and how taking a romp down memory lane might enable you to remember things you were experiencing while working on a particular piece.

But whether you’re doing it for yourself ~ and (not ‘or’) especially when you do it for other people (artists or not), let’s be honest. More often that not, documentation involves picking and choosing what we save and (/or) share. I mean, heck, I do it. Like how I try to leave out my underwear or socks lying around in my workspace whenever I take pictures ^______^

I’m not saying to not curate or art direct or anything; just pointing it out, is all. One last thing to, consider, I guess, when it comes to process documentation in the studio: how real you want to your documentation to be. Sometimes, I admit, I’ll take a picture and say ‘this one’s just for me’ ~ for me to remember what it was like when I was making something, as in not for public consumption.
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Double Duty

To wrap things up, I’ll tell you one, very practical use I get out of documenting my process which involves taking those ‘just for me’ photos. Because my desk has to *double duty* for writing as well as *arting*, I find I have to keep rearranging my set up every time I *switch between jobs*. 

I hate doing that, to be honest, especially when I’m able to settle on a set up that’s *perfect* for whatever I’m working on. See, um, I like to be able to move things around like my easel, my lighting, my seat and so on; sometimes I’m like a doggo who turns around a lot before finally lying down ^^; 

So before I clear up my workspace for writing, I like to take a picture to remind me where and how exactly my easel and my palette and so on were positioned, so I can set it up again ^^;

(But since we’re being honest here, truth is I never look at the photos, and I’ll end up *turning around a lot before lying down* every time, anyway ^^)         

Anyway, thanks for checking out my *documentation* right here on the jillablog ~ and thank you for sharing yours with me via my contact page, if you have ^_^* If you haven’t, feel free to share  ~ I would love to see your work and process, too ^_^**​