People talk in a precious way about genius, creativity, and curiosity as superpowers that people are born with but noticing is a more humble pursuit. Noticing is something we can all do.”
In a Shakespeare class in college, I learned that “nothing” and “noting” were pronounced nearly the same in Elizabethan times. Much Ado About Nothing — one of my favorite plays — is both about making a fuss out of nothing, and of the plot drama that comes out of noting, or noticing.
I pay a lot of attention to the little things: details in artwork, the way bees kiss flowers (and sometimes take naps in their petals), forgotten grocery lists. I’ve also kept a logbook for the past few years, keeping record of my daily life.
Noticing/noting; little nothings. Little notings.
A huge number of the photos I take are studies in composition, a way of noticing and appreciating the random, everyday textures and colors around me.
While an art form all in their own, small observed details can also be the spark for something bigger.
Pursue your curiosity: asking questions like “What do I like about this?” and “What textures, colors, and compositions could I borrow?” and “What if…?” may result in a surprising painting, an essay, or a entirely new way of working.
Years ago, I kept a blog called My Peacetree where I explored art, healing from trauma, and the natural world. I took an extended hiatus after I enrolled in college, started my career, and settled into adult life.
But looking back, there are so many bits and pieces of those years of writing that still ring true.
Even cooler, sometimes they speak to and build upon one another:
Starting – picking up a paintbrush, a camera, a pen – can be one of the most difficult things to do in a creative’s life when inspiration has vanished. If we feel we have nothing to give, our minds ask us why we should we begin at all. And so we get discouraged, believing that we have lost our gift, and sink deeper into a creative rut.
Let me share a secret with you, darling, one that I must remind myself of again and again and again: often, the inspiration comes in the creating.
Inviting Inspiration, 2011
My experiments in art do not have to result in perfection. In fact, they rarely do. We as a society, as a world, are obsessed with success, and failure is often a threat. Not so in my art journal. Here, I can play and seek out and explore and find comfort in the tension and disharmony of my mistakes. Here, I can accept them for what they are.
I thank them for the wisdom they’ve given me. And I turn the page.
I’ve been following Austin Kleon for some time with great interest. His use of a daily diary, curiosity for language and history and culture, practiced habit of creating — it all inspires me to begin a purposefully creative life afresh.
I create often, but there’s something to be said for a published trail of exploration and play, and documented artistic growth. So here goes, again.
A domain in my own name, and a whole bunch of blank pages to fill. Done is better than perfect. Let’s do this.
I’ve been reading up on a lot of theories and opinions and suggestions about blogging. Many successful bloggers use an editorial calendar (a planned schedule of posts to publish), ensuring that they have on-topic posts prepared and ready to publish long before they need them. This creates consistency in voice and the blog feed, increases readership, and (they say, or at least suggest) keeps a wave of inspiration flowing.
After reading these articles, I was overwhelmed with inspiration. I decided in the midst of all this to reevaluate the blog, rediscover myself, and make sure that my interests are aligned with my posts. So I delved into Evernote for the first time, came up with more than seventy post ideas, and even planned out an editorial calendar all the way through the next three months. I wrote up and published the first post on that list right on schedule – and haven’t followed through with anything I came up with in that frenzy of creativity since. Even though I had the next post planned out and half written. (Instead, I jumped ahead two weeks and posted an art journal spread that required little writing.)
Inspiration strikes me in bizarre ways. I can be overrun with ideas and motivation – usually at about eleven at night when I have to be up early the next day – and can ride that wave for hours and hours, so long as I stay with it. If I go to sleep, I often wake in the morning with little inspiration left to pursue the big ideas I’d had the night before. If something like work or running an errand interrupts my wild-donkey-riding, I become distracted and that momentum is halted.
As I went through this whole process, and as I attempt to try again, I wonder about the relationship between structure and creativity, right-brain and left-brain thinking, and the spontaneity of creation and the reliability of planning.
I feel like artists are often thought of as impulsive: so much of creation is about the flow of creativity. We talk about writer’s block as an impediment to that flow. Yet when I took a course in oil painting in college, much of the process of creating a painting was spent planning out the composition, doing preliminary sketching, and deciding just the right angle and colors and methods to use.
Structure and creativity have the same parentage. It is structure that enables creativity. […] In the twelve notes of the musical scale, in the twenty six letters of the alphabet, these fantastic structural inventions have unlocked the enormous creativity of literature and music. Without structure, there is nothing for creativity to get leverage upon.
When put that way, the correlation between structure and creativity is obvious. In fact, I am reminded of an article I actually wrote several years ago discussing whether or not originality exists. (I unfortunately no longer have the piece. But my conclusion was that, since every individual is influenced by art, tools, behavior, or ideas others have created, there is no originality – only original thought of how to re-assemble pre-existing pieces.)
Below are five tips on how to use your left hemisphere to jump-start creativity:
Research: Read books or articles that address the creative blocks you are currently facing.
Delegate: Find resources that help you prepare and plan ahead for future creative droughts. (Blogging-wise, use the schedule post tool on your blog to automatically publish to your blog, and check out a publishing tool like Later or Hootsuite as a useful Twitter/Facebook-publishing tool.)
Create a routine: Take out your journal, paintbrushes, or sketchbook even when you aren’t inspired. The act of beginning, of pushing yourself into creation, often inspires inspiration.
Prepare: Get ahead of yourself. Having a list of possible posts, ideas, or ideas to explore will give you a place to jump from, and you will avoid having to start from scratch.
Make notes: In a moment of inspiration, get as much done as you possibly can. If you have to step away from your project, leave a note outlining where your project is headed to help yourself find your way back into it.
I am determined to balance my creative impulsiveness and elusive bouts of inspiration with the structure and self-discipline that are foreign to my creative process and nature. Balance is key, and I think that however frustrating in the meantime will prove valuable in the long run.
This subject something I’m going to keep thinking about, mulling over, and addressing. I’d love to hear your thoughts and opinions on this, and I’d especially love to know about your own habits and ebbs and flows of creativity! Please share in the comments below.
The very first page of my new sketchbook, part of the Sketchbook Project.
Begin.
It’s a word much, much easier said than done, especially when it comes to art. Behold the dreaded First Page above! It is white, beautiful, smooth, clean, and unmarked – but it is also ordinary, silent, with nothing to say, waiting for you to transform it into something only your mind can imagine and only your hands can create.
Are you intimidated by the White Page? You are not alone!
Try this: take a deep breath and close your eyes. Reach around you, and use whatever art supply you first find to make a mark on the paper. It can be small and quickly done, though it will make a bigger impact if you push yourself to make a larger mark.
Now open your eyes – and hopefully this mark will break the spell of the First Page and you will be free to explore, play, and experiment!
If you find yourself still stuck for ideas, give one (or more!) of these a go:
Make a list: things you can see, things you can hear, things you can feel.
Splash on some color: use markers, crayons, watercolors, acrylics, pens, colored pencils, or highlighters.
Write one word in large letters across two pages.
Add some texture: glue in images, scrap paper, receipts, tickets, bits of newspaper, and tissue paper.
Drip watered down paint or India ink across the pages.
Cover a whole page with your writing, without stopping.
Do a blind contour drawing: while looking at an object, try to trace its outline without lifting your pen or looking at the page.
With practice, beginning a page becomes easier and easier, and the battle of starting a new journal becomes easier. Promise!
Now go give it a try, and see how brave and proud you feel when the First Page is dripping in color.
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