Category: creativity

Filling the Well

 In her masterful book The Artist’s Way author Julia Cameron writes about the importance of the artist date. She believes the weekly date is a necessary part of nurturing your creative consciousness, what she calls your creative child. Her instructions are clear – set aside two hours a week to do something different or take yourself off on an excursion, and do it alone. This will, she says, invite insight, inspiration and guidance. It helps fill our creative wells.

She has many suggestions and these are only a few: visiting a great junk or stationary store, a solo trip to the beach, going to an aquarium or an art gallery, wandering through a new-to-you neighborhood, taking a bike ride in the countryside, watching a movie, or trying a craft you’ve never attempted before.

I used to schedule a weekly artist’s date all the time, but at some point I fell out of the routine. Well, now I’ve started doing them again and the practice has reminded me of just how wonderful a solo artist date can be.

A few weeks ago, I attended a lecture by writer and artist Briony Penn. If you’re unfamiliar with Penn’s work, check out her website:  https://www.brionypenn.com/  and be sure to visit her books page.

This past weekend, I visited Cathedral Grove (pictured above) where the forest never ceases to inspire me.  Cathedral Grove is about 30 minutes by car from my home. I’m lucky to live surrounded by the rain forest and within walking distance of the ocean too.  I’m literally spoiled for choice when it comes to nearby natural wonders and I try to never take them for granted.

But if there’s any downside to living in a small community surrounded by nature, it’s the sometimes lack of cultural activities. Then the other day someone reminded me that I can tour some of the world’s best museums and art galleries virtually. I remember hearing about the option during Covid but I never really pursued it. Now I’m motivated! 

Here are just a few museums to consider. These links will take you directly to the museums in question, though some don’t always land on the link to virtual tours, so you may have to do a little additional clicking to get to the right area. But I’m told the effort is worthwhile.

The Louvre, Paris:  https://www.louvre.fr/en/online-tours

The British Museum, London: https://www.britishmuseum.org/

The Museu de Arte de São Paulo: https://masp.org.br/en

The National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art, South Korea: https://www.mmca.go.kr/eng/

The Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam: https://www.rijksmuseum.nl/en

The Met, New York: https://www.metmuseum.org/art/online-features/met-360-project

Vatican Museums, Vatican City: https://www.museivaticani.va/content/museivaticani/en/collezioni/musei/tour-virtuali-elenco.html

Happy wandering!

                   Living Large

“There is no passion to be found in playing small – in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living.” Nelson Mandela

It was on this date in 1990 that Nelson Mandela was released from a South African prison after serving 27 years for anti-apartheid activism. Mandela dedicated his life to dismantling racism, going from being the world’s most famous political prisoner to becoming South Africa’s first Black president. He also convened the world’s first Truth and Reconciliation Commission.

His struggle not only changed the course of South Africa but it set an example for millions of people around the world. The most obvious lesson we can take from him is about the importance of standing up for equality and human rights, a lesson that feels particularly relevant these days. But there are other lessons Mandela talked about after he was released from prison and had more time to reflect.

In The Long Walk to Freedom, Mandela shared his belief that discipline and patience are everything. “Running taught me valuable lessons,” he wrote. “In cross-country competition, training counted more than intrinsic ability, and I could compensate for a lack of natural aptitude with diligence and discipline. I applied this in everything I did. Even as a student, I saw many young men who had great natural ability, but who did not have the self-discipline and patience to build on their endowment.”

In the same book, Mandela talked about the importance of commitment and never giving up. “Failure is only found in giving up,” he wrote. “I never lose. I either win or learn.” Mistakes, he said, were part of that process. “Do not judge me by my successes, judge me by how many times I fell down and got back up again.”

And, finally, Mandela stressed the importance of being optimistic even in the face of challenges. “I am fundamentally an optimist,” he said. “Part of being optimistic is keeping one’s head pointed toward the sun, one’s feet moving forward. There were many dark moments when my faith in humanity was sorely tested, but I would not and could not give myself up to despair. That way lays defeat and death.”

Some wise life lessons for all of us whether we’re out in the world fighting for justice and racial equality or sitting alone in a quiet studio creating art.

Diversity in Art

                                                 

Diversity is a hot topic these days. The word has become somewhat polarizing, particularly when it’s used to reference people from different social and ethnic backgrounds, or those of specific genders and sexual orientation. But in that context, when paired with inclusion and acceptance, diversity becomes something to fight for and something to celebrate.

Nature depends on diversity for its very survival. Without a wide range of animals, plants and microorganisms, we would not have the healthy ecosystem we need to survive. Diversity, at its core, maintains life.

In its truest sense, the word diversity means variety. I like to think I favor variety, yet humans are hardwired to favor predictability, and I’m as human as you are. This morning, for instance, I had a predictable spring breakfast: a protein smoothie and some fruit. As I ate, I stared out the window at my empty garden pots. I found myself thinking about using the same annuals and fillers I used last year, the same pretty trailers. I have to remind myself to pivot and try something new.

Predictability is comfortable and familiar. It creates a sense of security, something businesses favor. The recent wild swings in the financial markets show just how stressful and potentially lifechanging unpredictability can be. Publishers, like most businesses, also thrive on predictability, something I learned early on in my career.

I didn’t stick to writing for one specific age group or in any particular genre. I wrote fiction and non-fiction, picture books and novels, historical and contemporary fiction; I even wrote a few short novels with a paranormal theme. Publishers and agents weren’t amused. They suggested I should ‘stick to one lane’ and develop my presence for a specific audience and in one genre. Diversification, I was told, just confuses readers. Predictability makes it easier to build a brand. Strong branding makes it easier to sell more books and make more money, which publishers love. And let’s be honest, authors like making money too!

There are authors who write in a variety of styes, but it’s not always an easy transition. Margaret Atwood was famously afraid of making the jump from literary fiction to genre fiction, but lucky for us, she did.  Other authors like Stephen King, Norah Roberts, Anne Rice and Dean Koontz rely on pseudonyms when they write in different genres. That makes publishers happy and avoids confusion for readers. 

I suppose it’s no surprise that diversity sometimes comes under fire and we humans tend to favor the status quo. Yet in the same way that nature hinges on diversity, I believe diversity can also infuse and flavor any creative practice, and not only for authors.

Leonardo Da Vinci is the classic example of someone who dedicated his life to a variety of art forms. John Lennon, Joni Mitchell, Eric Clapton and Lady Gaga all went to art school. Rapper Tupac studied acting, poetry, jazz, and ballet at the Baltimore School of The Arts. Australian musician Nick Cave writes screenplays and novels and so does singer/songwriter Amanda Palmer. Actor Jemima Kirke from the HBO’s series “Girls” is also a talented painter. Juliette Binoche works as, dancer, poet, and painter too. Antonio Banderas composes music and writes poetry.  Actor James Franco paints, draws, sculpts and is a skilled photographer.

I’ll probably never take up sculpting or pick up a paint brush, and I’ll certainly never become an actor, but the idea of trying a new art form or writing in a different genre is a way of adding a spark of life to our art. As biologist Sir John Sulston said, “What is the purpose of being human and alive without doing and trying new things?”

At the very least, I can certainly switch up my breakfast tomorrow. Falafel, anyone?

Overheard This Week

                         

I popped into the bakery to pick up a baguette the other day and two women ahead of me in line were chatting. I couldn’t help overhearing them. Well, technically, I probably could have shut them out, but eavesdropping is not against the law and one could even argue that it’s in the job description of writers everywhere. 

I gather one of the women was an artist of some kind (I’m guessing fabric art) and her creations were beautiful enough to elicit raves from her companion. “I could never make wall hangings like yours,” said one women to the other. “I can’t make anything,” she added. “I’m not at all creative.”

That’s not the first time I’ve heard someone claim they lack creativity. It’s probably not the first time you’ve heard it either. But the thing is, we are all creative. Every single one of us.

Just ask author Lois Peterson who launched her latest book a few weeks ago. Titled Creatively Human: Why We Imagine, Make and Innovate, the book is targeted at young readers, though I think it deserves a spot on everyone’s bookshelf, regardless of age. It’s an engaging and informative read showcasing the fact that we’re hardwired to make and create, and that the drive to do it is as old as humanity itself.

Our ancestors were weaving 12,000 years ago and using pigment to make paintings 17,000 years ago. Creativity is everywhere, Lois says, from graffiti to logos to flash mobs to splashy stage productions. In her book, young readers are encouraged to look at the world with an imaginative eye as they explore the origins and impact of ideas and inventions, arts and technology.  I loved the A-to-Z list of creative activities sprinkled throughout the text. It was also great fun to read some real-life examples of creativity too, like Ben Wilson who is known as the Pavement Picasso in London, England where he converts discarded gum into sidewalk masterpieces. . .  and a young girl name Mayhem who reproduces Oscar Award winners’ gowns out of common things like construction paper, gift wrap, tissue paper and foil.  

Lois came up with the book idea after going into schools and libraries to speak to children about writing and the creative process. During those sessions, someone would almost always say ‘I’m not creative.’ So, Lois decided to try a little exercise. She asked all of them to stand up. Then she began listing creative activities, asking them to sit down if they’d ever done them. She started with the obvious ones: who likes to draw, to dance, to sing? Who likes to build things or cook or garden? To paint? To collect and display treasures? To tell jokes and make people laugh? Inevitably, as she went down the list, one or two people would always be left standing. To those last holdouts, Lois would ask: did you choose your own clothes and dress yourself this morning? Because that is another creative act. And if anyone was still standing after that, she would ask them ‘have you ever told a lie?’ By then, the kids were all sitting down and most were probably laughing too.

But Lois had made her point that creativity is everywhere and everyone is creative.

Creatively Human: Why We Imagine, Make and Innovate by Lois Peterson is published by Orca Book Publishers and is available through your local independent bookstore.

Creating During Challenging Times

                             

The ground feels unsteady under our feet these days. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s because my part of the world has been the epicenter of three earthquakes registering 4+ on the Richter Scale over the last week and a half. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent more time than usual (and more time than I probably should) following current events, both here and abroad. As a news junkie and former journalist with friends still in the business, I’m horrified by the attacks I’m seeing against a free press. As a human with a beating heart, I’m shocked and appalled by the way in which the rights and needs of so many are being ignored or even trampled upon.

It’s depressing, it’s worrisome, and it’s led me to ask why. Not why it’s happening but why create anything at all during times like these.

And then author friend Eileen Cook posted something on Facebook that refocused my thoughts. Cook was born in the US and now lives in Canada. She was writing about her need to align with people who believe in the importance of human decency. If you’re on Facebook, please search her out and read what she said on that subject. It’s beautiful and wise. But there was another theme in her post that also resonated with me. She wrote, in part:

The measure of your life comes down to a simple question: What did you do with the time and talents you were given?

Writing is my talent, so I do my best to get better, to write stories I think the world needs.

Darkness is never going to show us the way forward.  The world, more than ever, needs all of us to be using our time and talents wisely.

Her words lifted me up on a day I needed to hear them. They were a good reminder of the importance of following your heart and giving back, even in a small way. So, whatever your talent, please don’t let darkness stop you from practicing it. Art, in all its forms, helps us understand what it means to be human. And I think we could all do with a little more humanity these days.

Listening . . .

                                                            

It’s funny how the universe sends us messages . . . if we’re open to hearing them. Ironically, the messages I’ve been getting lately are about the importance of listening.

The first nudge came from our neighbor. He’s a sound producer by profession so his world is, as you’d expect, all about sound. Knowing we’re planning a trip to Japan, he told us about a bar in Tokyo where patrons are not only encouraged to listen, but they are basically barred from talking. In fact, talking at Bar Martha will get you turfed out. Music is king. Patrons cannot chat, surf on their phone, interact with staff in any way other than to point at their menu selection. The idea is to sit in the dimly lit space, watch the DJ pull vinyl from ceiling-high shelves containing over 6000 albums, and listen reverently to Nina Simone, Eric Clapton or whoever else is currently playing. To put this in perspective, Tokyo is home to nearly 14 million people. By all accounts, it is a city with a frenetic pace . . . one where technology rules supreme and stimulus – noise – is everywhere. Except, it seems, at Bar Martha where music replaces discordant chatter and our only job is to settle in and listen.

Listening also came to the fore the other day during a conversation with a writer friend. She’s struggling with her novel. Her first draft is finished but she has issues with the middle. There’s so much going on in the narrative, she told me, that the through line of the story is cloudy and the ending doesn’t have enough punch. So, she sought out feedback. Members of her critique group came up with a few suggestions, and beta readers offered different takes too. One reader suggested thread A be dropped . . . another loved thread A but argued that thread B needed to go. Several others ignored those threads entirely and suggested taking the story in a completely different direction. My friend was confused. What, she asked, did I think?

I was familiar with her story because we’d brainstormed elements of it at various times. That’s what writers do. And given a little thoughtful discussion, I could have offered an opinion. But in the end the decision would be up to her.  It was her story. There wasn’t a right way or a wrong way. There was only her way.

“What is true north telling you?” I asked her instead.

“I don’t know,” she replied.

True north is the wisdom of our heart. It’s our internal compass, one that guides us through life at our deepest level and keeps us on track. It helps us with big things, little things, and everything in the middle, including our creativity. The trouble is noise and chatter from well-meaning people can drown out our true north. And in my friend’s case, it had.   

I suggested she find her own version of Bar Martha and get quiet. I suspected if she tuned out the world and tuned into her story there was a good chance it would tell her exactly how it wanted to be told.

Because in the end, listening isn’t just good for hearing music. It’s also good for hearing the truth.

Revise, Revisit, Redo

Celestial events are on my mind lately, influenced at least in part by this week’s solar eclipse. We didn’t see it here but some of my friends and relatives back east had a spectacular view. Even people who don’t normally follow these kinds of things seemed to be talking about it.

Some gardeners believe eclipses, moon phases and other activities in the heavens can impact our plants and gardens. The Farmer’s Almanac even provides information to help gardeners follow celestial rhythms. But gardeners aren’t the only ones who take their cues from gazing skyward. Many of the writers I know do too, particularly when it comes to the planet Mercury.

Mercury, in case you didn’t know, is the closest planet to the sun and the fastest one in our solar system. It rules communication of all kinds, as well as publishing and everything related to that industry. It rules other things too (technology, including computers, and travel being two of the biggies). Three times a year Mercury appears to move retrograde or go backwards for about three weeks at a time. When that happens, lifestyle stories sometimes pop up in the news or on social media feeds warning that Mercury is about to play havoc with communication, travel plans or our computers. And it’s true, if you follow the patterns, that there are more Mercury-related glitches during a retrograde period. But writers love it when Mercury is retrograde because it’s the perfect time to revisit manuscripts and refresh them. In fact, it’s the perfect time to do anything that starts with the prefix ‘re.’ And Mercury is retrograde right now.

Ironically, until the solar eclipse, I’d been too busy to notice. We have five yards of fish compost in our driveway waiting to be spread on the garden beds we’re revamping. I have a manuscript sitting on my desk needing to be reassessed and revised. There’s recycling that needs to be dropped at the depot. An orchid that needs to be repotted. All of these things are calling to me because in a few days we’re heading to the mainland to revisit family and friends and I’d like them done – or well underway in the case of the manuscript – before we go. The eclipse made me take a step back and look to the heavens. That’s when I realized I’m caught up in a number of Mercury retrograde activities. Does that mean I’m in the celestial flow? I hope so.  I’ll report back in a few weeks. When Mercury goes direct.  

What Would You Do . . .

                                          

. . . if you were guaranteed a positive reaction to your effort or decision?  Follow me down the rabbit hole (after all, it is nearly Easter).

I was talking to a friend recently about our mutual realization that we probably worry a bit too much about what others think. We didn’t go deep into the why of it; we were intent on enjoying our lunch. Instead, we briefly shared how this trait shows up in our respective lives. Curiously, we didn’t touch on how (or if) it impacts our creativity, though we both pursue creative work.

A few days later, I told a different friend, this one a talented visual artist, that I wanted to create a mosaic with our house numbers . . . something I could put on a large rock for the end of our driveway. I’ve had the idea in mind for over a year. We live on a cul de sac and the house numbers are not sequential or in any way logical. The numbers we have on our house are often overlooked by delivery folks. We need something with more presence at the street. I could get a rock engraved, but I wanted something different. Something with a little more color and interest.  Something personal.

I’m not a visual artist. I’ve made a couple of mosaics in my life, with guidance, and I had so much fun doing them! And while I’m happy with the mosaics I made, I’m under no illusion that they demonstrate any great artistic or design skill. Still, I love that I was able to create something visual like that myself. Why not do something similar on a rock?  I wondered. Especially since I already have a decent-sized rock waiting to be used.

I started thinking about the shape of the rock in question . . . I considered colors . . . I began to cast around for design ideas.

That’s when it hit me: the end of our driveway. Our driveway.  And instead of feeling filled with anticipation and joy, I felt a tiny jolt of horror.

The rock, or, more specifically, the mosaic, would be on full display for everyone to see. Not everyone would like it. Some people might even point out its flaws, for flaws it would certainly have.

I’d stepped right back into worrying what other people would think.  

Mr. Petrol Head can relate. After twenty+ years of sporadically working to restore a 1959 Sunbeam Alpine, his restoration is nearly complete. So much so that he’s finally taking it to a couple of British car shows this summer. Everyone who comes loves cars, so he’s sure to get a lot of positive feedback. But he’s likely to get some ‘constructive’ feedback too. “It’s not 100%,” he admits. “And someone is bound to notice.”

Regardless, he’s taking a risk and putting himself out there. Instead of asking himself what he would do if he was guaranteed only a positive reaction to his efforts, he’s asking himself the only question that counts: what is he so excited to do that it doesn’t really matter what kind of reaction he gets?

I admire his attitude. The question is, can I embrace it? Only time, or more specifically the rock, will tell.

Small Things

                                                             

I met a writer friend for coffee last week. She had a pacing issue with her manuscript and wanted to talk. She’d lifted out a key scene to use as a prologue and she didn’t know how to deal with the narrative gap she’d created. I hadn’t read her novel (and she wasn’t asking me to), but she felt somewhat overwhelmed with, as she described it, her conundrum. I listened, I asked a few questions and after a few minutes, I made one small suggestion. And by small, I mean small. Yet that seemingly small suggestion prompted an idea in her mind that led to the workings of a solution.

Small things can have big consequences, life-changing ones. Just ask someone who missed a plane on 9-11. . . or someone whose loved one didn’t.

We don’t always know the consequences of the decisions we make either. I’ll never forget the two women I overheard one morning in a coffee shop dissecting the previous night’s date. Apparently, she had a terrific time; the guy in question was intelligent, charming and attractive. But as she told her friend, “I just can’t get over the size of his nostrils.”  Small things, nostrils, though apparently not so in this case.

Small things can spin our lives in directions we don’t expect (I wonder what would have happened if that woman had gone on a second date?) and small things can take our art in new directions too.

It’s the big markers we usually think about when it comes to our art – getting a book published or going on an author tour; selling a painting or having a show. Those things are important milestones and definitely worth celebrating. Even finishing a book or a painting or sculpture is a big deal. No question.

Yet it’s the small, seemingly insignificant steps that get us to those big finish lines. Motivational author Julia Cameron believes that work begets work and that “large changes occur in tiny increments.”

All the more reason to celebrate the small things. And perhaps even embrace them. Especially when it comes to nostrils.

Honoring Creators

                                               

Today is International Artist Day, a time to celebrate all kinds of art: paintings, sculpture, mosaics, photography, textile art and more. Launched in 2004, IAD is designed to honor the contributions all artists make to society. These days, though, one of the common themes I’m hearing from artists is ‘how can we (or even should we) create when world events are so dark?’

Artists work hard to produce their work, though when judged against something like, say, a peace treaty between nations, a painting or a sculpture inevitably comes up short. Maybe that’s why so many creative types are questioning themselves lately.

Novelist Theodore Dreiser once said that “art is the stored honey of the human soul.” I love that quote almost as much as the one by Thomas Merton: “Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.”

 So, yes, the news is grim but the arts – and artists themselves – have a place and a role to fill.

Since the beginning of time, artists have communicated ideas and even kept records of important events. Through many different mediums, they record history, the good and the bad, and they help us make sense of it. Artists show us the truth, or at least the truth as they understand it. They tell us stories, they pass on traditions, and they forge connections with others. Artists add beauty to our lives which raises us all up. Some even say that artists offer the world messages of hope, and I think a message of hope, in a world filled with bad news, is a message we can all get behind.

So today, on International Artist Day, I hope you reach out to an artist to lift them up. Maybe tell them that your world is just a little bit better with them in it.