Real Time, Contact Time, and Dead Time

"Our days are identical suitcases---all the same size but some people can pack more into them than others." 

---Anonymous

I manage my studio time by dividing it into three categories: Real Time, Contact Time, and Dead Time: Real Time refers to the span of time I spend in the studio; Contact Time refers to the amount of time spent working, brush to canvas, in the act of producing a sellable  piece; and Dead Time is time spent in the studio but not engaged in productive work.

A typical work day for me begins and ends within a twelve hour span of time, but if only six of those hours are spent actually working, then it doesn't count as a twelve hour work day. Twelve hours of Real Time elapsed but only six of those hours count as Contact Time with the other six as Dead Time. The purpose to this division is to identify and eliminate waste. 

Time is, and always will be, your greatest resource and therefore it is critical to invest it appropriately. If a six hour studio session involves work on a single painting, chances are that there will be some Dead Time while waiting for paint to dry. Why allow wet paint to impede your productivity when you can just buy a fan or learn to work on multiple pieces at a time? 

By painting several pieces at one time, concurrently not simultaneously, you won't have to stop painting at any point. Working in this manner, it didn't take me long to discover that the same amount of Contact Time could be directed towards painting one art card or fifteen. 

Dead Time: time when nothing is happening. Five seconds here, two minutes there, like hairline cracks in a dam, those innocuous little breaks are easy to overlook and potentially disastrous if ignored. For example, my roommate's cat visits me several times a day. If my studio door is closed, she opens it, walks around, and then exits, leaving the door open behind her. Typical imperious cat behavior. 


 

One day I realized that this seemingly harmless interruption was costing me a break in concentration as I put down the brushes, walked across the studio, pushed the door closed and then walked back to my desk. It would take me about one or two minutes to get back into my workflow, totalling about five minutes a day.

"Big deal! It's only five minutes," some will say. To them I answer that yes, it is a big deal. Ask any ninety-year-old billionaire if he or she'd trade their fortune for a drink from the Fountain of Youth. The reality is, we only have so much Real Time. How much of it is converted into productive, focused work is up to us. Some people happen to be comfortable with a more relaxed approach to life. For others, "relaxed" is just a euphemism for "unfocused."

The problem with a relaxed, unhurried attitude is that it minimizes the effect that the present can have on the future. It presumes that next week, next month, or next year are all going to be as they are in the present. It's an attitude which takes time for granted, for it's not possible to know if your next major breakthrough is about to happen or if it will require more development with a specific technique. It's not possible to know if what you learn in the next hour will fundamentally alter your approach for the next five years.

Some things can only be discovered in the studio. The sooner these breakthroughs are had, the sooner they can influence your subsequent paintings. Since what you do in the present might drastically effect how your future work will appear, it makes sense to micromanage your studio time.. Wasted time delays progress, while making more efficient use of it will encourage progress. 

Let's return to the example of the cat, and why those little interruptions culminated into a big deal. I didn't mind the cat's visits, but I was not going to take impromptu breaks at her whim. Instead, I salvaged at least twenty minutes a week by keeping a yardstick close at hand. When I extended my arm with it, I was able to reach and close the door behind the cat without the inconvenience of breaking my workflow. Each month, that yard stick probably salvages an hour of Contact Time. 

During Real Time in the studio, any non-Contact Time is killed by default, devoured by the termites of inattention, distraction, and inefficiency.  Dead Time is costly in more ways than one: it means less money, less free time outside of the studio, and less time focused on the work itself. Managing your time doesn't require a super-detailed calender. All it requires is a recognition that time is your greatest resource, but only if it is accounted for and intelligently invested.