Okay, I’ll apologize for that, but I love a good bad pun. The point of this discourse is finding inspiration, specifically not where you are used to looking for it. Jaime Morris, the writing coach, is tackling the same subject on her blog (see on writing link at right) if you want another viewpoint. When I was teaching creative thinking many years back, my goal was to get the students, most non-artists, to experience the world in a new way. Motivate them to turn over new rocks for their inspiration. Their homework each week was to try something different. It was not a tough class and still I had slackers, but a few did what I asked with good results.
We fall into patterns in our lives; shows we love to watch, favorite haunts to feel comfy in, painters we love, music we have to listen to to feel right, a bar or restaurant we go to every week because it’s what we know. When we give ourselves the same input everyday, however, we get the same output. Same crap in, same crap out. Painting is like that too. If you want to make a leap creatively, try something new. Go to a place you have never been, shake your doughy psyche up and try something that might shift your paradigm a click or two. Inspiration can come from so many sources once you are open to it.
Though I’m not good with change, I know change is good. Some of my best ideas have come from some experience that was foreign to me and, as I’m sure you know, ideas come from making connections. Two things that don’t belong together get teamed up to form a brilliant child. If you are in a rut, let me suggest some things that might get you into a new place of humming creative acuity. Go to a demolition derby, if you love karaoke, take a french cooking class, go see a drag show, an antique mall is a huge source of inspiration, read something you would never read, something that rubs your bias the wrong way. Inspiration can come when you open yourself up to new things. And the more open you are the more the ideas flow. For example, this painting came from wanting to experiment with the idea of a still life, I did it about 3 years ago, but I like it still. I wanted to create an artificial dialogue between the elements. But this isn’t the great idea part, that came later after reading a book called “The beak of the finch”, a fascinating account of the first empirical data collected that proved the theory of evolution. While looking for stuff to paint in an antique store, I saw these lovely little painted porcelain birds and a connection came between what I had learned from the book and what these birds meant to me… and how I could use them to tell a story. I haven’t done anything with the idea yet but it’s still a good idea that came from two new sources.
Shake up your normal. Go out and try something that isn’t like you and see what comes.
Here’s the cool/odd thing about this making a point of getting out and looking/experiencing different things: It rubs against the grain of one’s normal experience.
Okay. That’s a definite, “DUH!”
So we (and by “we,” I totally mean ME) make a commitment to consistently stretching–and even though it’s so pleasurable and imagination-filling and just yummy, these stretchings can make me feel a little off-balance because, yup, they rub against the grain of my normal experience.
Julia Cameron notes that people will do the seemingly tedious work of daily writing forever and ever–but will drop those “artist dates” like hot potatoes after just a week or two.
One of the things I’ve noticed hanging out with Lynn Whipple is that her entire life is like an artist date, with bits of regular life holding that crazy cake all together. And she, of course, is one of the most consistently creative, out-of-the-box people I know.
So, I think the proof of this pudding is in the studio of Lynnie Lou Whipple–and it’s tasting pretty darned good. But I have to coax myself, reassure myself, bribe myself to step up and experience just a foot or two outside the stern norm I’ve created of my 52 years.
And I’m not all that normal! Imagine how hard it is for more conservative thinking people!
Anyway, thanks for extending my thinking with your good post, Larry. I’ll make a note on Slippers for folks to follow up by reading this.
A discussion on artist dates written by an actual artist should have considerable weight!!
jme
Totally agree on the Lynn thing, there is a fearlessness there, a tolerance of ambiguity that is a model for all. Experiencing new things is the key to creative rejuvenation and we have all heard that one can not create in a vacuum. Just makes sense.
Hello fellow creatives! It’s good to be back!
At the risk of being way personal, I think that what follows ties into everyone’s recent posts, which are incredibly thought provoking. So here it goes…
For me, as I’ve gotten older (now considered middle aged at 43) I have become more aware of the need to stretch & seek differing creative avenues that can possibly lead to overall happiness (as referred to a few posts ago). This has only come about because of an increased awareness of my tendency toward the darker side of life. This darker side finally got so overwhelmingly uncomfortable and damaging that I had to make a change – a stretch.
In my earlier years I was clearly right brained (defined as ‘random, intuitive, holistic, synthesizing, subjective, looks at wholes’). But I was also clearly not happy. My artistic & musical talents habitually allowed me to go to a dark place deep inside. From this dark place, I unconsciously spewed out the best, most passionate and expressive creations I’ve probably ever made. Which satisfied me as an artist – but not as a whole person. I was a miserable wreck.
Now with a few 20 or so years under my belt, I’m a happier whole person than I’ve ever been. But oddly enough I also am far more judgmental of myself as an artist. The bad creations can still send me way deep into that dark place that sucks so bad. Then I’m baffled, disappointed, confused, fearful & STUCK!On a day when I simply can’t separate the artist in me from the rest of the person, it’s a real struggle to get to get satisfied and happy. And unfortunately, it shows! That’s when you’d have a hard time finding all the wonderful characteristics ya’ll have mentioned up above. Icky.
The stretch for me is acceptance – I think that’s the key to happiness. And I think maturity is what brings that about in all of us.
I’m so looking forward to a full plate of acceptance as I get closer to my 50’s. I don’t know how old the rest of you are, but if you’re all as happy and balanced as you seem, my guess is you’re close to 50, give or take a few.
Boy – did that come out self-absorbed and morbid. Maybe it was best left in my diary? ….
Sally–
What a wonderful response!! May I please invite you to wander over to Writing Wench’s blog (found in the blog links on Ruby Slippers) where her last post deals with SHADOW!!
WW’s really smart and compassionate. Hey! Smart + Compassionate = Wise. That’s WW, alright.
Anyway, go read what she has to say. And when you’re there, you can read more about ME than anyone needs to know in my second (or was it THIRD?) comment on this topic.
Hugs,
jme
Thanks Jaime for your inout on this and Sally, I’m no therapist or psychotherapist but I will say that we all have a dark side and the best artists are highly self-critical. Also many of the best artists historically had a dark side that they worked from. The difference between then and now is that we are more educated as to where the dark stuff comes from, what it is and what to do about it when it comes. I believe that we have to train ourselves not to dismiss the bad stuff but to embrace it and use it for good. Use the force Luke.
Larry–
Thanks for both of your responses to my/Sally’s comments.
First, I LOVE your phrase “tolerance of ambiguity” in describing Lynn. There is a whole world in those three words–and I’m going to digest that and maybe find a response in myself to it.
Second, your comment about many of the best artists having, historically, had a very, shall we say, “vibrant” dark side is intriguing and oh-so-relevant. It opens up a whole keg of questions for me, including whether or not we damage our creativity if we drug our darknesses.
I remember an interview with an older John Funny-as-Shit Cleese in which he said that after he’d done therapy, he didn’t do comedy anymore. It was as if the force driving his edgy humor had been sated. Is this loss? Or gain?
jme
Many of our most notable artists had a very dark side; Mark Rothko, Vincent Van Gogh, Jackson Pollack, Robert Rauschenberg, James Ensor and Frida Kahlo to name a few. The upside is that they worked from these low depths of depression and alcoholism and health issues to produce some of the greatest works of their time, of all time. The downside is that they lead miserable lives. That said, there are many who don’t, as far as we know, have the same degree of demons who have produced amazing works. I think we all have our demons to work through and from and we don’t use that energy enough. I have also heard, Jaime, that many tremendously gifted artists have lost their edge after conquering their demons. Hard to know what the right advice is here. Use it? It would seem that many who were driven by darkness cared little for the rules because they were driven by something else.
Wow, intriguing stuff here! Sally, at 55, I can truly say I’m so much more self-accepting than I was 10 years ago. There were years of my life during which I was surely sleep walking for all the conscious thinking I was doing. You are ahead of the game!
The question about our dark, shadow side being a source of creativity is interesting too and I think self-acceptance plays a role here as well. As Larry says, use it! However, if I had to chose between being an amazingly creative but self-destructive artist or a well-balanced human being, I would chose the latter, if only for the sake of my loved ones. I’m pretty sure my younger self wouldn’t – or didn’t – make the same decision. My younger self sought out the demons, taunted and dared them to make my life more interesting. My 35 – 45 self denied their existence (thus the Stepford-wife like sleep walking). My mature self knows they’re there but doesn’t want the drama. How has this effected my creativity, I wonder? I’m less erratic and more productive, maybe.
And this discussion leads me to think I need to step out and shift my paradigm a little and see what rears its ugly or beautiful head. At this point, I can deal with either one.
Anna–
Thanks for weighing in here and between the two of us. Reading what you have to say, I realize I’m not sure about how difficulty/darkness stimulates my creativity. I do know that when I was in a really stinky relationship, all the pain and angst spawned some really edgy, good writing. But my non-pain-induced writing seems okay, too. I just don’t know how much I feel compelled to write, actually, any of the time.
One thing I notice for sure is that for me SLEEP and plenty of it seems to conjure my creative activity.
That’s a dip into darkness, in a way. It’s like a little journey to the unconscious. But it has to be enough–I like to feel I’m underwater, I’m sleeping so much!
And I guess that’s some of what the Morning Pages are trying to capture.
Hey. I think Larry started a new topic!
jme
I went a little nuts on this subject over at the Wench. Here, I will say that I think that depression doesn’t make art, it is that artists are sensitive and vulnerable to depression. Chemical additives let depressed people get older, and as we get older, we change, we repress, we make a living–all getting in the way of expressing our creativity. I recommend a little shadow work, if you think you need a little darkness in your art life. There’s plenty of it in the long bag behind you!
One thing you can say about creating from a dark place is that it will be honest and probably unaffected by external influence like commerce or acceptance.
Wow – what a discussion! I’m glad I shared. I’ve been swamped with things that keep me ‘well balanced’ lately, and just haven’t had any time to respond to all your responses. Anna – I relate to you, totally. Not sure I’m much ahead of the game, but as I’ve heard from some wonderful women who set the bar for living happy lives, “it just gets better and better”.
Someone above (think it was you Jamie) also mentioned the idea that taming your otherwise wild side could pose quite a dilemma for artists who are driven by the mood swings. Which, admittedly, I am one of. (Again, maybe too much info – TMI?). Whatever – I’ve no shame. But since I’ve been tamed, I have had to deal with a bit of a flattened spirit in my work. At first I felt it was an unfair trade-off. But now married, with 2 step-kids, there was no more messing around. And now I wouldn’t trade it for a spicier painting life. Besides, it’s still kinda fun to complain about it!