Blog blog blog. Every time I thought about starting a blog, I felt annoyed and guilty. Each new blog I came across increased the pressure to have one.

I had my reasons for avoiding the task. First, I don’t like throwing my opinions or visual concepts into a public space without giving them time for consideration and refinement. Second, if I think someone is looking over my shoulder, I am self-conscious about having bad ideas, which is a surefire way to crush the seedling of a good idea. Third, I resent the obligation of posting on a regular basis, whether I have something new to present or not. And fourth, my work habits embrace many different forms, from sketching on paper to touring architecture. I'm worried that a blog would be too flat.

I am working on a multimedia installation that will be exhibited early next year, and I’m collaborating with Michael Chladil, an interactive media artist. We’re in the exploratory stage, and we each document our thoughts and research in varied ways: shooting stills and video, recording sound, sketching, scanning, downloading and writing. After several meetings, as we tried to corral a bunch of random, fast moving concepts, I surprised myself by saying, “We need to have a blog.”

I began to see a different perspective: Blogging in the original sense (“blog,” of course, is a contraction of “Web log”) can be a tool to foster and reflect upon the development of one’s work. So instead of using a blog as a way of speaking out, I realized I could use it to speak in.

Semi-public iterations: Keeping undeveloped ideas from public view is appropriate for traditional forms of publishing and presentation, like a magazine (e.g., this column) and a gallery (e.g., my exhibition). But a blog, because of its nature, gives permission—even encouragement—to share work-in-progress. One of the toughest battles in the creative process is to maintain a balance between keeping ideas open and making conclusive decisions. I often encourage students, and myself, to maintain that balance by showing rough iterations to a circle of trusted colleagues.

Honoring “bad” ideas: The late artist Agnes Martin said, “The bad paintings have to be painted and to the artist are more valuable than those paintings later brought before the public.” Keeping a log of the so-called bad ideas is a great way to see the evolution of your work. Often, when you look back, you see discarded elements that may now have value. As an educator, I know that the “bad paintings” are important to other people as well. When I go to an exhibit, I always wonder: What was attempted along the way? The “rejected” work can be illuminating not only for the artist, but also for the audience.

Regular exercise: Like most artists, I need to have deadlines and destinations for my work. But even with those two taskmasters, day-to-day progress can be difficult. A blog is a sort of personal trainer. And as I think again about that nagging requirement of having something new for each entry, I remember one of my own basic rules: By seeing what repeats, you discover what has lasting value. A blog lets you fast-rewind and fast-forward—an easy way to see what patterns are emerging in your work.

Documenting the influences: One of the greatest joys of being involved in an exciting project is that everything seems relevant. The final piece—whether an exhibit, a play or a book—is basically permission to spend time exploring the world around me. But this abundance of input can be overwhelming. How do I keep it all present, let alone organized and accessible?

Years ago I read the book The Creative Habit by choreographer Twyla Tharp. Tharp begins each new project with a big cardboard box. Everything of any interest—notebooks, news clippings, CDs, pieces of art—goes into the box. As soon as Michael and I began our blog, I realized it was the perfect receptacle, a multimedia version of Twyla’s boxes. Rather than seeing a blog as flat, I realized that it is a window to many dimensions, because it allows viewing, listening, categorizing and commenting on the pieces that each of us is creating and collecting.

Our blog is seen primarily by us, plus a few colleagues. By the time this column is published, our blog may be discarded, encyclopedic or something in-between. For now, it’s serving my most important purpose: supporting the development of a body of work. CA

^{© 2009 W. Richmond}

Editor’s note: Wendy Richmond’s new book Art without Compromise* is published by Allworth Press.