I don’t think I ever really know when a project is done because I make projects that could keep going on forever. For me it’s a balancing act, feeling confident enough in the work and feeling like I’ve exhausted a sense of what else could be done with it. I usually get to a certain stage where I’m very, very tired and I’m not interested in it as much as I was. And that’s a good time to end. Sometimes it’s just about saying, “I’m tired. I’ve learned a lot. We’ve gone a long way, and now the film needs to leave me, and be in the world.”
Originally asked
The Creative Independent, to working artists, its interview series
A repeated process question in The Creative Independent, asked across visual art, music, writing, performance, and mixed media.
You answer as yourself. Nobody on FLAPSS answers as anybody else.
Angelina Mazza, The Creative Independent interview source ↗
Others on this question
View all 67 →When I’m exhausted with it, you know, when my obsession with the thing becomes diluted and I want to do something else. [Or] having created a sufficient mess… where I can’t add anymore, I need to peel back. And then, of course I am lucky enough to have an editor, to turn a project loose and then we’ll go from there. It’s different for every project. No book that I have written has taught me how to write the next one. I feel like a baby every time I start a new book. Like I’ve never done this before, and I have to figure it out from scratch each time.
Well, Tour continues because I exhibit it with a growing archive of performances. For instance, I have something upcoming that I’m working on at Pioneer Works with Stanley Love and his dance troupe. It’s exciting, and it keeps the project present and alive. So this particular project, Tour Without End, becomes self-fulfilling.
I’ll taste it, taste it, taste it, taste it. I ask myself, “How can I make it better? It needs more whatever, salt, vanilla.” Taste it again, again, and again until I think, “Okay, this is it. Let’s not mess with it anymore.” Then I’ll taste it one final time and be like, “Okay, add a percent. Just increase it by one more percent, just a little bit more.” For example, salting a ganache, I’ll salt, salt, salt, salt, salt; taste it. Okay, it can use a little bit more salt. And then I’m like, “Okay, it’s good now.” And then, at the very final moment, I’m going to put a little bit more salt. Walk away. That’s good. Whatever it may be.
More on craft & work
- What is the worst job you have done? 229 answers
- What do you consider your greatest achievement? 190 answers
- What do you do when you feel creatively blocked or stuck? 66 answers
- How does a new work begin for you? 61 answers
- How much rewriting or revision do you do? 46 answers
- What is the part of your job that people would be surprised is most of your job? 38 answers
Also answered this · A–Z
Allie Rowbottom, André Aciman, Angélica Negrón, António Lobo Antunes, Beverly Glenn-Copeland, Boris Fishman
Search the directory for somebody in particular.
Explore further
- All craft & work questions
- The The Creative Independent questionnaire — 4 questions from the same format
- Explore the archive — by field, age, era, and subject