Day 14: Flow

In my entryway there is a banner. It has hung there every Christmas season that we have lived here, and at other houses before this. The text is from the Canticle of Zachariah, and it is dated 1981, 33 years ago. If you turn it over and look on the back of the lower pole pocket, you will find the signature GDhuyvetter, because among the many odd diversions of my life, for a period in my late teens and twenties, I made banners. This Christmas banner is one of the artistic and personal accomplishments of my life of which I am most proud.

I made banners for my church. For a couple of years, all of the seasons had my banners hanging. These were huge jobs, over 30 feet tall. Most of them were colors and designs, little or no symbols or words. As holidays approach, I can still connect to the stress of having a room full of fabric and hoping for Rumplestiltskin to come and spin the straw into gold. I remember the thrill of having a massive banners “flying” as we raised them up into place. But these are not the banners that I most remember.

One year I was taking a calligraphy course, and I wondered whether I could paint calligraphic sayings on fabric. After experimenting with many paints and fabrics I finally developed an approach where I wrote large words like “Peace” or “Noel” which I (still living at home) hung at my parents' house. After a couple of years I started to shrink the text and add appliqué shapes and symbols. My mom had taught me to do simple needlework, so I experimented with differnt ways to make pictures in fabric. Most of the time I copied pictures I found on cards or in books, but through interpretation, I made them my own.

Finally, after a few other projects, I decided to try something more ambitious for my yearly Christmas banner. I had always loved the text of the Canticle of Zachariah, which was part of morning prayer from the Liturgy of the Hours, and the words spoke better than anything else to the meaning of advent and Christmas, so I decided to use the opening. In order to do something a bit special, I created an illuminated opening letter, and added two angels (which were actually a variation of a figure I had used on a banner earlier that year). I still remember the “reveal” when I showed the competed banner for the first time, as it represented a huge leap in difficulty and in quality.

What I most remember about this banner were the hours and hours I spent working on it. However, I remember not the drudgery, but the way that time stopped whenever I was working. When I started working on this or other banners I completely lost myself in the work, getting things done and solving problems, and I would look up to discover that 6, 8, 12 hours had passed. I hadn't eaten (though I drank coffee steadily through the time) or done anything else (in these pre-iphone days). I was in such a focused zone, and I was enjoying the work so much that I felt I could have kept going forever.

I've read about many artists who have similar experiences. They refer to this as flow, a focus on work that pushes everything else out and distorts time. I have never had a similar experience with anything since. Occasioanlly I lost track of time working on tech projects, but generally none of the aspects of my work have ever brought me into a state of flow.

After the Zachariah banner, I did a few more. One still hangs in the Huntington Beach Children's Library. One was given to a friend whom I have long lost touch. But very soon this hobby was replaced by realities of work, marriage, and life. Every so often I pull out my pens and do a little calligraphy, but I just don't have the time (and maybe the focus) to work on such a large project. At this time of year, I miss the excitement of creation, the satisfaction of solving problems, and the beautiful mindless focus of flow.

As always, I welcome your comments.

Image: Canticle of Zachariah Banner, Dhuyvetter entryway 12/14/2014

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