Tuesday, 13 June 2017
Molloy (I do make I laugh!)
process or technique
take this morning
I begin to reflect
this is because I am led to explore the difference between the words I have just read. “more of a process than a technique” referring to Lectio Divina 1
A technique is in a sense limited. There are a finite, though granted it's a big number, of ways of expressing myself in words, paints, sketching, drawing, music, acting etc.
This is because in using resources as techniques. I am attempting to realise something. I have some sort of aim in mind; a painting, a play, a song, some sort of output.
A process however is a a way of journeying without any intended outcome. This doesn't mean that there will not be one.
1. 30 minutes then photograph the result from the south west at an angle of 45 degrees from the horizon.
2. Import this image into Photoshop and apply a filter based on rules I will decide by use of a dice.
Techniques produce a desired effect.
Processes are more open ended.
Techniques are about achieving a goal.
Processes are about possibilities serendipity and unintended outcomes.
Techniques are about step 1,2,3,4,5,6 etc end result repeatable scientific method?
Process is about steps of randomness.
The path is traceable, if you want it to be, but has more potential for discovery and innovation.
They can overlap, and often do. I can be drawing and just letting the pencil meander across the page with no intention other than that of making a mark.
Whilst doing this I can be enjoying some reverie and suddenly a form will appear which I am invited to mound and shape into something.
This is how creativity happens for me sometimes.
Techniques can stifle.
They can constrain by their dogmatism; we use this glue, this colour, this card and this drill. This is how we make.
If we follow this sequence of actions we will produce that which we seek - reproduction.
Processes can liberate.
We have glue, paints, card and a drill. What can we make?
If we play with these things what outcomes might there be? - newness.
Techniques when practiced lead to skilful reproduction, processes when explored and combined can lead to unintended outcomes.
When we make an attempt to raise up our mind and heart to God we are entering into a process.
Walking on stepping stones are a technique for crossing a river.
If you are on one side and wish to get to the other side.
There are things you must be able to do in order to get from one side to the other.
Follow the steps, literally, and you will get to the other side.
This technique is ok to a point but of little use if you are blind, in a wheelchair, have a broken leg, afraid of falling in etc.
Getting to the other side now involves the need to be open to the possibilities and the resources around you, and indeed, to question the very essence of the task.
You may even decide not to attempt the crossing, in doing so you begin to enter a process rather than employing a technique.
I don't know that I am any nearer really.
Technique is about tools.
Process is about possibilities.
What does this have to do with prayer/ praying or getting ‘closer’ to God?
Language strains a bit. I'm not physically trying to cross a river.
These things are not about me doing, probably more about me being - God is involved.
What does that mean?
How is God involved?
I think there's a lot more wrestling time involved.
Maybe this discussion is about method and technique, perhaps process and technique are synonyms?
Language it seems has let me down.
Or is it my flawed logic, or will logic also let me down in the end?
It's how language is employed, now there's the thing.
Perhaps how I use it determines its meaning.
But then perhaps that meaning would only hold true for me, I think Wittgenstein had something to say about that.
It seems, like Beckett's sucking stone sequence in 'Molloy', 2 in the end it's all a matter.
It only matters when it matters and then does it matter?!
Spent all morning till now on this - time to go and wrestle with the weeds.
Sometimes I do make I laugh!
1 Wiederkehr, M. (1995). Tree Full of Angels. HarperCollins, San Francisco. (p 58)