Creativity

I have been holding off on publishing this most recent post for several reasons, one being that I have been stuck: unable to write a paragraph without slipping into a coma after the opening sentence.   I've started several, each one ending with a fizzle, and I find myself in the same predicament with this current attempt.  Well, let us think this through: this is a paragraph that is talking about writing paragraphs, or about attempting to write paragraphs, and about the failure to grab hold of an idea that might put into motion a train of thought; the train of thought resulting in more words, more sentences, and potentially an entire paragraph.  In conclusion, a paragraph should contain a sentence or more, and perhaps wind up with some concluding idea to bring it to an end, opening the way for another paragraph.


Paragraph 2:
Once having composed a first paragraph, one may follow by writing another, perhaps expanding on previous ideas, or setting out into an entirely new direction.   Either way, one ends up with two paragraphs.


In the third paragraph, you had better be saying something compelling enough to reward the reader for having stayed with you for so long.  Thank you for reaching this sentence.


Artist's block, writer's block, or any sort of creativity block is a troublesome phenomenon.  It is an issue that creative people have to deal with from time to time.  But I believe it is a problem that can also affect those who don't think of themselves as artistic types.  We all feel stuck from time to time, don't we?   What is my purpose?   How did I end up here?   What am I doing in this job?   Is there something missing?  Has anyone seen the remote? 


Might these basic existential questions be symptoms of a block of the creative spirit?


I would suggest that we all have an inner artist, a creative core within us.  Not everyone may consciously choose to act upon it, or define themselves as artistic.  But creativity is a human drive that is as innate as the drive to make babies, or simulate making babies, whether with oneself or with another.   The drive will be stronger in some, buried in others (due to childhood trauma?: "Oh honey, what a scary drawing - is it some kind of deformed monster?   "No, Mom, it's...a self-portrait...").   


Somehow, we can become consciously or unconsciously blocked from putting to paper, stone, canvas, film, music, words, that something in us that yearns to be let outside.  The non-artsy type will say, "there's nothing yearning in me!" - UNTIL - he/she accidentally spews out a poem, or tells a funny story, or takes a beautiful photo of geese in flight over a corn-stubbled field, or rambles on in a blog like this.   Then he or she feels that lightness of being, the release, the exhalation, the strange joy that issues forth from the creative act.  Maybe.


So there.  I have managed more than three paragraphs.  And this demonstrates one remedy for artist or writer's block.  Just do.  For example, write nonsense until your creative brain gets bored or offended by the stupidity of it and begins to speak out, if only to defend whatever reputation it thinks it has.  (Your brain has dignity too.)


But what is my brain trying to say?  Am I to develop the idea that we all have an inner-artist?  Maybe argue for more funding for the arts in education?  Or does my brain want to offer some self-help advice to stuck artists?  Or is it moving toward a tell-all confession of its innate drives?   I'm feeling I had better take the wheel now and decide what direction to go from here.  And I feel inclined to take the easy road and simply talk about myself.   After all, what could be more interesting?  

I am an artist.  Though certainly not an expert on art.   I can't say I  really understand art.  I just do it.  I can only speak of my experience and my observations.   I wouldn't say that I have been blocked lately.  I've had plenty of things to work on.  But I have learned a thing or two recently.  About the value of communing with others.   I think it is easy to become insulated in one's own artistic world, and this can be limiting, if not blocking.   
I wrote previously ("More on Being an Artist" - June 1, 2011) about having just been to visit an artist's open studio and how the visit and a suggestion that I join a local artist's league had led to my thinking about the value of connecting with other artists.  I, by nature, tend to act the lone wolf, staying in my cave, only to come out on occasion to stealthily present my work to the public before running back for cover.  And the idea of communing with other artists was as foreign to my nature as behaving gregariously with "the public".


But I joined the artist's league, and so far have collected strong evidence to support my brand-new hypothesis which suggests that meeting with other artists and actually talking to them won't kill me.
It might even be beneficial.


I have been inspired by the number of people to whom creativity is an important enough part of their beings that they would join an artist's league and actually meet with each other.   I have met artists who make a living at art.  I met a retired chemistry professor who teaches drawing.  I have learned about some resources, (i.e. a reliable local place to have giclee reproductions made, a place to order bulk canvas).   I have had my thinking stimulated (i.e. "draw more, Dave," meaning put in practice time beyond the work on my specific projects ).   I met a landscape artist who works "en plein air" and completes large masterfully done paintings in the time frame of a few hours.   This caught my attention as I have been thinking about varying the ways I approach my work, such that I might produce some finished pieces in less than the usual several months that it usually takes.  


 In my previous post, I had talked about this and included a sample of a quick, loose sketch I had made of my daughter.   I have since made a painting from it as well one from another sketch of my other daughter.  Here they are:

  

 After a long stretch of working almost exclusively with pen & ink and a little watercolor (you can see many examples of these at my online gallery), I am really enjoying delving into oil painting. 
In painting, I expect I'll bounce back and forth between the longer, more detailed projects, and this new (to me) approach of working quickly and letting go of some of the detail.
  
Here's an example of a recent painting where I stick with my usual penchant for great detail and fidelity to every pixel of reality.

And now it is time to wind this post down.   The dog needs walking, although he doesn't know it yet.

I'll sum all of this up with one of the many paragraphs I started and then abandoned when my eyes glazed over and my internal screen went blank.  


When you decide to be an artist, to recognize and act upon the innate drive to create, you willingly take on a burden.  I think that, in general, it is a pleasant burden, and it provides you with a deep sense of purpose.   It it is a burden because the fruits of creation are not gotten freely, but result from dedicated pursuit.   You work at it.  You may get blocked for awhile, find yourself at sea without wind, but you continue.  You find a way to move yourself forward.   And, to tie the earlier discussion in, you may find direction or inspiration from others on the same path.


OK.  One more...


Here is creativity in one last, short paragraph:  As the artist, you start by imagining some kind of outcome, a painting? a story? a building?, a song?, a poem?, a dramatic character?   Then you begin the work of bringing it to life.  You continue until you feel satisfied enough, and then you let it go.  And you move on the the next adventure.  Part of the magic of it all is that the end product so often surprises even the creator.