THE ART OF ACCOMPLISHMENT (EVEN ON A BAD DAY)

A dispatch from Artistic Clarity by someone glamorous enough to have multiple energy levels.

Let's be honest: there are days when you wake up feeling like Lauren Bacall and others when you wake up feeling like her ashtray.

As a woman of an exquisite age (sixty, if you must know), with a collection of chronic illnesses that could fill a waiting room and a part time day job that has me performing CPR on mannequins in boxy fluorescent rooms, I know the friction between high intention and low stamina all too well.

But here's the thing: creativity doesn't have to be a marathon every time. It can be a whisper. A wink. A crumb. And, crucially, it still counts.

So, I've devised a system—a chic little framework for continuing to show up when your energy has ghosted you entirely. It's neither punishment nor perfectionism—it's pure practicality dressed in a perfect coat.

THE THREE-OPTION FORMULA

Every task or practice in my life—whether it's eating, meditating, or making art—gets treated to three tiers:

Low Energy (The Absolute Bare Minimum, But Still Noble)

Medium Energy (Respectable, Satisfying, Often the Sweet Spot)

High Energy (The Showgirl Version, if you will)

This is not a self-help gimmick. It's a method of sovereignty. And it's deceptively powerful.

EXHIBIT A: BREAKFAST

Low Energy: A spoonful of almond butter. No apologies.

Medium Energy: Two poached eggs on rye toast. Add fancy sea salt if you're feeling flirty.

High Energy: Shakshuka (a simmering of  tomatoes, onions, garlic, spices and gently poached eggs), darling. Because why not court drama in a skillet?

EXHIBIT B: ART PRACTICE

Low Energy: Three minutes of sitting in stillness in your art space.  Eyes open or closed—dealer's choice.

Medium Energy: Twenty minutes of intentional focus in your art space—maybe drawing, journaling, perhaps just watching light change across the floor.

High Energy: One full hour – luscious minutes of meditating, moving, creating. You might sweat. You might levitate.

This little system of mine has saved me from the seductive, slippery slope of "Well, I can't do the full thing, so I guess I'll do nothing."

Because doing something—even the tiniest gesture—is what creates continuity. Continuity creates momentum. And momentum, my friend, is what turns amateurs into legends.

ONE MORE THING (AND IT'S DELICIOUS):

After your three-minute or sixty-minute practice—it doesn't matter which—send yourself an email. Yes, you heard me. An email.

In it, say:

"Today, I showed up for my art. I didn't need to perform. I only needed to be present. And I was. Here's to the long arc of becoming."

Then—schedule it to arrive in your inbox one year from today.

A love letter from your past self. A small, sacred time capsule. A witness.

Because let's be clear: nothing will move you quite like you who refused to give up.

Artistic Clarity isn't a sprint. It's not even a jog. It's a beautifully irregular dance—sometimes in heels, socks, and bed.

This system works whether you're well-rested or wiped out or in silk pajamas or track pants with toothpaste stains. It's about dignity, grace, and consistency.

And, as always, creative glamour.

Because even doing the least can still be done with style.

You and your art are adored!

Pattie