I'm working my way around the studio, trying to focus on one spot for a bit and getting it clear. I'm still a sad fan of the "walk around and pick up one thing, then walk around looking for a new home for it" school of cleaning. A terrible habit that needs rebreaking every so often....
I'm working out a new idea for managing my workload.
I found a tiny article on page 12 in the July 2005 issue of DISCOVER magazine while slogging my coffee this morning. You can read the article here; it's the second article down. Or the last article, depending how you want to look at that. It's very short--I've just realized my paraphrase of it is longer than the article... http://www.discover.com/issues/jul-05/rd/brains-study-brains/
Ironically, I realize that getting a great idea from reading a four-month old magazine is sort of counter-intuitive. If we are trying to simplify our lives and reduce clutter, aren't we supposed to get those magazines outta here as soon as we read them? This one is too much for me to figure out, so I will leave it to finer minds than mine.
Anyway, the tiny article is called "Juggling Info". Scientists have found that "humans can only juggle four "chunks" of information at any given instant. After that they get confused. Their next move is no more reasoned than flipping a coin," to quote author Susan Kruglinski.
People can make comparisons and make good decisions with up to four variables, but with five variables or more, they cannot.
While it may seem like we can handle more "chunks" than that, what really happens is we begin to consolidate the data—called "chunking"—in order to still maintain that upper limit of four.
I'm intrigued about this for several reasons.
One, a traditional to-do list may be more "chunks" than I can handle in any given day. On the surface, it may look like I can anywhere from one to twelve tasks in a day. But really, if five of those twelve tasks involve phone calls, then really it's one task—make telephone calls!
Or conversely, if I group all those calls under one task—make telephone calls!—then maybe I'm not considering that some of those calls will be easy (make a dentist appointment) and some will be extremely complicated and time-consuming (telephone interview with an art gallery for an article I'm working on.) Both tasks take up one line in my notebook, but one will take a few minutes and can happen anytime between business hours. The other will take several calls just to get the right person on the phone to set up a time for the interview—which in itself will take a chunk of time.
Or how about trying to get four friends together in the same place to meet for coffee? Easily 48 phone calls! (I know this from personal experience....Teo! Tanna!! Mickie!!!)
So part of my problem is not knowing in my head how much time to allot each task.
Second, I have trouble prioritizing these tasks. One will be of the utmost importance—until I get another task dropped in my lap that HAS to take precedence.
Here's a recent example. I had an assignment to come up with a project for a craft book. I thought I had time left to pull it off. Then a huge catalog order got dropped in my lap.
How should I decide who gets my time? How would YOU have decided?
Here's what happened.
The book editor got my commitment first. I should have honored that. And the company has featured almost all my projects in their books. I've gotten a lot of publicity out of that. In fact, being reliable and doing good work got me my first book contract with them. And they're very nice people. I owe them, right?
But the projects either tread too closely on my art (encouraging people to copy my work, which is starting to happen with frightening regularity.) Or they are TOO FAR from my art—demanding an inordinate amount of time, research, trial-and-error, new supplies and a steep learning curve, none of which is offset by the very low pay for the project.
Balance that with a catalog order that came in with no warning, without my specified lead time of 2-3 weeks. They only work on net 60 (which means I don't get paid for 60 days after they receive my order). And it means making the same item over and over, which I said I wanted to get away from.
I should smack 'em down and stick to my (business terms) guns, right? I know people who would do this and not think twice about it.
But this company has spiritual values I treasure (they support women's issues and women's businesses), they go overboard to accommodate very small businesses and artisans (like mine), they didn't do well with my first product and went above and beyond to make my second one work—even featuring me in the next three catalogs. They don't drop ship (which means I only ship one big order to them, I don't have to ship each order of one item out to each customer). They are extremely reliable payers—I get my check almost to the day of when it's due. And they are also extremely nice to work with.
And the short notice was unusual. They'd been bombarded with an unanticipated heavy response to their holiday catalog mailing--a good thing! They'd been caught off guard, too.
And the orders I've gotten for the one item that's done well for them would pay my mortgage for four months. (I have a big mortgage, too.)
So how many chunks of information are there? A lot!
Add in the fear of humiliation (it sucks to let ANYONE down once I've committed to their project), the fear being called unreliable or "that crazy artist" and other professional downfalls, and you have a mess that drove me crazy for while.
In the end, I went for the catalog order.
Why?
Partly the money. I compared $3,000 to $150 and guess which one won?
But it's not just who's dangling more money in front of me.
A friend once said that, when can't you tell whether to stay with something or move on, you need to look at what you got out of it. If you've gotten what you needed out of it, then there's no need to keep going back there over and over to learn the same thing. Move on.
And that's the "chunk" that my decision was finally based on.
Ultimately, for me, it's about my art. The money is to get my art out there.
The catalog company's orders will be a more efficient means of financing my next step in the years ahead—doing more high-end retail shows so I can take my work out to wider customer base. It's just time for more people to see my work in person, so when I approach galleries for solo shows and exhibits, I'll have a more solid following for my work.
Maybe I've been in enough project books, and it was a good time to move on. Not the best way to do it, but it was a way.
My next book goal?
Either a book I write.
Or a book about my work.
Not a bad goal to put on my new to-do list, now that I think about it.
