Saturday, December 30, 2017
챈들러 방식
Friday, December 29, 2017
Chandler method
I had stir-fried anchovies and pickled cucumbers left over from my husband's lunchbox. It hasn't even been that long since I ate them with rice, but I'm already hungry again. So I grabbed a slice of bread, laid some cheese on top, added apple and avocado, and stuffed it into my mouth. A big cup of tea, too. Now full, I lay on the rug and stared at the ceiling, wondering what I should paint today. Yesterday, I finished a piece called "Trace."
"Trace," how funny. It sounds like the title of a teenage girl's diary, but still—I just wanted to name it that.
What is a trace, really? A memory that's passed, time that stayed for a while, a mark left behind. I scratched at the canvas with white paint. It would probably show better on a darker background. But maybe it doesn’t have to be clear. Traces are meant to fade anyway.
While I was planning my next piece, I suddenly remembered the gas bill, electricity, phone, credit card, insurance, and my mother-in-law’s funeral plan payments. I put down my brush. After organizing the bills, the sun had already set. It was time for my husband to come home. I quickly got to chopping. I can slice pickled cucumbers with perfect spacing so easily—so why can’t I do the same with my painting? I scold myself like the mother of the famous calligrapher Han Seok-bong scolding her son: “You can chop rice cake just fine, but why not your art?”
I try to comfort myself—“It’s because daily life always follows me like a shadow.” But honestly, how long am I going to keep making excuses?
I remembered something I read in an essay by Haruki Murakami—the “Chandler method.”
“First,” Chandler says, “choose a desk. Set it up with manuscript paper, a fountain pen, and any materials you need. Be ready to work at any time. Then, every day, spend a set amount of time—say two hours—at that desk.
If you can write during those two hours, great. But writing doesn’t always come easily. Some days you won’t write a single line. Some days you’ll want to write but can’t, and it’ll frustrate you. Other days, you just won’t feel like writing at all. Or maybe you’ll feel that, deep down, today just isn’t a day for writing.
So what should you do? Even if you don’t write a word, Chandler says: stay at the desk. Just sit there. You don’t have to do anything, but you’re not allowed to distract yourself—no reading, no magazines, no music. Just be ready to write. Eventually, the cycle will come back around. You’ll write again. No good comes from getting anxious and doing pointless things.”
Murakami said, “I kind of like that method.”
Yeah, maybe I should try the Chandler method for my own work, too.… But first, I need to make dinner.
Starting next year, for real this time. I just hope it doesn’t end in three days like all my other resolutions…
Saturday, December 16, 2017
물풀처럼
Friday, December 15, 2017
Like water and grass
Saturday, December 2, 2017
비빌 언덕
아침 일찍 24시간 영업하는 포트리 한식당으로 가서 설렁탕 4개를 각각 따로 포장 주문해서 사온다. 하나는 나에게 그리고 두개는 아이들에게 배달하고 남은 한 개는 본인의 점심으로 먹기 위해 부산을 떤다.
어느덧 세월이 흘러 나도 아버지를 닮아가나 보다. 아이들에게 ‘비빌 언덕’이 돼 줄 수 있다는 것만으로도 잔잔한 기쁨이다.