MASTERING METHODS

BRIAN NISSEN

'Though this be madness, yet there is method in't'

(Hamlet Act.2 Sc.1)

'The Method' was a term given by Lee Strasberg to a style of acting based on the teachings of Stanislavski, which he developed and promoted for many years at the actors studio in New York. It was the focus for a generation of young actors engaged in a new, experimental way of approaching their craft - probably influenced by the vogue for Freud which was at its apogee at the time, and with a little bit of Zen thrown in for flavor. The idea was to situate the actor in the role guided by his emotional interpretation in response to the character and situation, rather than absolute fidelity to the text. Brando and many of his fellow actors were a product of it - and even Marilyn Monroe had a go at it.

You need a method.

Artists, poets, actors, and composers of all schools and periods have their own personal methods of going about their work, their own modus operandi, some quite predictable, others idiosyncratic. A curious example of this was proposed in the 'Seven Percent Solution', a book whose premise was based on the encounter of Freud and Sherlock Holmes. Holmes went to visit Freud hoping he would help cure him of his heroin addiction. An immediate friendship followed, and Freud told Holmes about the baffling case of a patient he was treating without any success, as she was not only mute, but seemed to be in waking coma, making it impossible to establish any kind of communication with her. Holmes asked if he could see the patient. Naturally Holmes was able to find out the identity of the patient and what had caused her condition by observing all kinds of tiny, tell-tale details of the girl's demeanor, clothing, physical aspect and so on. Freud was dazzled by Holmes' method of deduction and his amazing powers of observation. Holmes then instructed Freud on his particular methods of investigation, which Freud subsequently adopted as his own method of diagnosis - thereby giving birth to modern psychoanalysis.

A method is a means to an end, and there are endless paths that lead to it. Exhibitionists such as flashers, streakers, and strippers have quite distinct methods of revealing themselves to the world. The same could be said of the artist though his motivation and goal is something else.

The hardest thing is to talk about one’s own method - especially when one is unaware of it. I tend to begin a work with absolutely no idea in my head of what I am about to do. My mind blank. That's already difficult. Faced with the frightening aspect of a blank canvas or an immaculate sheet of paper which does its best to intimidate one, there is no other recourse but to mess it up somehow before getting to work on it. So I get started by maybe putting a couple of marks or stains on the paper or canvass, and try to see what goes on between them. Add another and their relationships all change. Things start happening between them. One thing leads to another. Ideas come into play and things start to move and communicate with each other. With sculpture it’s the same thing. I start fooling around with different shapes and forms until something starts to happen between them, and the piece shows me the way it wants to go. This is obviously a pretty risky method, and means that a lot of works get lost along the way, some aborted half way through, some become really stubborn and won't cooperate while others just get confused. Some even go on strike and have to be negotiated with. Others are left alone until they feel like getting going again. That's the way I do it, or at least how the work does it to me.

You've got to have a method.

I have colleagues who use totally different methods of creating a work of art. Some may have the work conceived and completely worked out before starting on it, and then it is really just a question of making it manifest. Think of a sculptor working on a block of marble. The sculpture is already inside the block; it is just a question of chipping away at the marble in order to reveal it. There are other artists who start and complete a work in one session. Some, (like myself) work on many pieces at the same time, all in different stages of completion, the way a chess master might play against several opponents simultaneously. Then here are those who use a process akin to that of an archaeologist, who knows where to search, but doesn't quite know what he might find. His method is to carefully poke around until his intuition tells him where the hidden objects are located. Then he uncovers them and they are finally made visible.

The use of chance as method has been an instrument frequently adopted over the past hundred years and was raised to cult status by the surrealists. The acceptance of the value of ambiguity and the use of chance and accident as a method has allowed intuition to play a greater role in creating works of art, and been adopted by artists in all fields. Reams of critical theory were written about the use of two actresses in the same role in Buñuel's last film, That Obscure Object of Desire, and how he had carefully worked out the brilliant idea of showing the duality of the girl's temperament and nature by this device. But it was the brilliant the use of chance that led to it. As told to me by Juan Luis Buñuel who was on the set, the actress Maria Schneider had been cast in the role, and two weeks into the shooting was found to be impossible to work with. Another actress had to be found in a hurry. After interviewing several prospective candidates, they were left with two possibilities and unable to decide between them. The pressure of time was intense, as they had already lost too much time. As the bickering went on and on Buñuel suddenly said - 'that's enough - use both of them and let's get on with it'. An inspired use of chance captured by a master.

An important part of an artist's method involves defining when a work of art is finished. The abstract expressionists would say it is the particular state the work is in when you stop working on it. Renoir said he knew when a painting was finished when he felt he could pinch the bottom of the image of the model. With others it might be just filling in the blank spaces. Some seek to provoke certain reactions in the spectator, whose active involvement completes the work. And so on.

There are so many different ways an artist will initiate a nascent work of Art, but the basic motivation is the same. The need to communicate. And for that you need a method. It is not enough just to go into a trance.

The popular idea of the artist sitting around waiting for inspiration to strike is such a cliché it is hard to convince people that it doesn't happen that way. The artist is not like Mr. Micawber (David Copperfield), who was always waiting for 'something to turn up'. Or an athlete sitting around and one day saying 'today I feel like running a four minute mile', because if he is not in training and on top form he will never do it however much he feels inspired. Certainly artists have their special moments when things work out just right, and good works can come from them. But they have to be poised and ready, as they never know when the moment may turn up.

Dickens and Dostoevsky wrote books by monthly installments for magazines - with the requisites (with some, the panic) of a deadline to stimulate both them and the storyline. The marquis de Sade needed the peace and quiet of prison to get his literary works in shape, as the riotous and over stimulated life he led before must have left him little time to concentrate. Consider different methods used by some film directors. Woody Allen never tells his actors what the film they are working on is about - they only know their particular lines. He claims it makes their acting much more fresh and spontaneous. Fellini would improvise a great deal while Hitchcock reportedly wouldn't even bother looking through the camera lens as he had every detail and movement carefully worked out beforehand.

All methods are valid and should be the best instrument available to get you to where you are going. A method is a strategy for achieving a particular goal, and though the goal may vary from the sublime to the absurd the method can still be of merit. I have a particular fondness for inventors - especially those who invent ingenious objects of doubtful utility. My favorite among all those I have seen is a bicycle that can climb trees. This elaborate invention is cleverly made with giant prongs and pincers jutting out of the front wheel. In theory it works, (- remember the French philosopher who admonished his English colleague saying 'Well yes, it works in practice, but will it work in theory?) but that the effort required is beyond human strength did not deter the inventor pursuing his goal. The inventor rides up to the tree, and pulling the bicycle up into a vertical position, the pincers grab hold of the trunk and with a monstrous effort he manages to haul the bicycle up a few inches. The invention still needs perfecting. We also have rotating motorized, forks that wind up spaghetti for you, thus avoiding having to do it by hand, and alarm clocks that rip off the bed sheets, and so on. These inventions might make you think why bother? But even though it was not their intention, there is poetry in them.

There are methods used in art that parallel these inventions, as when it is the creative journey itself becomes the goal rather than the destination. Very much the idea adopted by the abstract expressionists.

Methods are also composed of greater or lesser proportions of tics and superstitions, irrational but necessary elements. The great French painter Douanier Rousseau reportedly would don his official customs uniform when painting, possibly out of respect for the metier, but I bet he wouldn't get the same results dressed in his old everyday suit.

My most recent encounter with the absolute need of a method, happened to me about four years ago when I had just signed up with a Health Insurance company in New York. One has to choose a primary care doctor, and the company sent me a directory with a list of affiliated doctors, and asked me to choose one. It was the size of a phone directory, with thousands of names. Chose a doctor. But how? I had to have a method. But which? I could let the book fall to the ground, and find a name on the page that had accidentally opened by throwing a dart at it from a distance. Or I could be blindfolded, open a page at random and stick my finger on a name. The method I finally used worked out very well. I thought I should try and find the name nearest to Frankenstein. It was Finklestein, and he is now my physician, an excellent and conscientious doctor.

You better have a Method.