The Zen of Art and Motorcycle Racing

intention, meet intuition

My husband is a speed junkie.

Mild mannered attorney by day, he spent nights and weekends nearly all his adult (and I use the term loosely) life racing something: go-karts, motorcycles, cars, mountain bikes, and now, well into his 60’s, he’s on the motorcycles again.

He is also meticulous. He insists on doing all his own engine building and maintenance; he never wants to take a chance of a bolt coming loose because someone else didn’t fasten it properly. He has kept detailed records in piles of black & white composition notebooks of every time he’s been to a track on every motor vehicle he’s ever raced. Tire pressures, tire temperatures, suspension adjustments, air temperature, track conditions, type of race gas, bump stop settings, good grief, I know more about this stuff than I ever imagined would be a part of my life. Ask me about the differences between Dunlop and Pirelli tires. He collects data on every aspect of the machines. What he doesn’t pay attention to is personal data, insight into his body-mind-spirit, quantifiable or not. Yet.

(Hang in here with me, we are going to get to the art part soon.)

He recently began to read a book by Bernt Spiegel, The Upper Half of the Motorcycle, on the unity of rider and machine. The upper half of the motorcycle, of course, is the rider. So our dinner table conversations have moved from intake valves and oil filters (which sometimes makes my eyes roll aaaall the way back into my head) to shifts from conscious awareness to unconsciousness as he gets around the racetrack. Now that is something I can have a conversation about! He hadn’t really given much thought to date about how his body-mind-spirit does what it does and how he may be aware of some moments and movements and completely unconscious of others, but when he talks to me about how it felt out there that day, how the bike responded to him and he to it, it all makes sense. I get that stuff!

It works the same way in art!

It’s the balance of intention and intuition; conscious and unconscious action.

Some artists I know call themselves intuitive painters. They begin with a blank canvas, sling some paint at it and wait to see what emerges, what “comes out” for them. When I first started painting, I didn’t really have any intention for what I was doing, but that seemed to me to be a very groovy way to work; just let the painting be what it wanted to be. Well. I stood in front of that easel some days for a very. long. time.waiting to be spoken to, until I decided I was probably more of a planner.

I know other artists who paint realistically and plan every detail of their work before even picking up a brush. Their intention is clear, the subject matter and color palette have been decided and there is little need for intuition: it’s all about the skill and precision. I never gave that much of a go because I am not interested in duplicating reality and, frankly, I don’t have the discipline required.

The magic happens when consciousness and unconsciousness, when intention and intuition, embrace.

When my racer dude has both skill and a solid machine under him, he can let his body-spirit take over and let his mind take a backseat, as it were. When I have a clear mental picture of what I want to convey in a piece of art along with the tools and practiced techniques, my mind can give over control to my body-spirit and enjoy the process of painting, somedays without any awareness that it is my body doing the work. We are in Flow, The Zone, the Zen Space.

It doesn’t matter what your passion (compulsion) is, we can all get to that transcendent place that makes us feel bigger than ourselves and yet connects us deeply to ourselves and others. Hold intention in one hand and intuition in the other and see what magic can happen for you.

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As always, I appreciate your support and encouragement and engagement. You can see my work here.