How to begin and end

Beginning: I have a fortune cookie message in a small frame on my desk that says, "A job well begun is half done." I got it six or seven years ago, and its gone with me from an executive assistant job at a science museum to program director at an art college to here. As someone who has struggled with procrastination throughout my life, this little phrase has helped me avoid many of the inevitable all-nighters that go with meeting academic and professional deadlines. Thanks, little fortune cookie.

Also, when I'm really dragging my feet out of fear or uncertainty to start a project, I hear Bob Newhart's voice in my head. What he says comes from a skit on Mad TV where he played a psychotherapist. A patient comes into his office, complains bitterly about her boyfriend and how bad he makes her feel. He listens patiently, and then asks if he can offer two words of advice that will fix everything. She eagerly awaits his advice. He takes a deep breath, and then shouts at the top of his lungs, "STOP IT!" And then over and over again, "STOP IT! JUST STOP IT! STOP IT!" So, when I complain to myself about not knowing where to begin, Dr. Newhart reminds me to get over myself and just get on with it.

Ending: Beginning is much easier for me; I've got all kinds of beginnings all over my studio, and as my husband will attest, at home as well in the form of countless half-read books and half-finished home projects. I have about seven different journals that are half full (our yet-to-be-born children will have a field day trying to get it all into some sort of order when I'm gone); I just love writing in a fresh notebook! It's not that I will never finish these things; I do. But I realize that I need to have several things going at once so that when I get stuck on one, I have another to go to. All of these things influence one another, weaving a rich and interesting web of ideas.

So, how do I end? When I see the final piece, stroke, element, page. It's like music: there are certain notes and chords that signal the completion of a piece. Without these, the audience is left in suspension, not knowing if it's over or not (in the right piece, this can be the perfect way to end). The fadeout is another method of ending for music. I think I just "hear" the final touch needed, and stop. There is a sense that to go any further will ruin the piece or set it off on another path that would need to be followed for a long time to reach another conclusion. Sometimes I chose to keep going if I've got the energy; otherwise, I end the first piece and do my favorite thing with the new idea: begin again.