Thoughts on Creativity -- Yes, You Can! Yes, You Are!

I can't count the number of times I've had comments like "I wish I was creative like you." Or, "I just can't do art at all." Big mistake -- linking art with creativity. Yes, it is creative, but it's also technical, too, or can be. There are so many things that are creative that we don't always put in that category.

Then there is labeling -- one child is labeled "The Artist" and the other, "Susie Homemaker." I've seen this happen more than once. But when I was a child, it happened to me.

We should never allow ourselves (or others) to be labeled. It holds us back. Or maybe it makes us fight back harder.

My cousin Patty -- my three-years-younger cousin -- is indeed a natural. From the time she was seven or eight, she was drawing remarkable things -- chubby babies, horses (beginning at the tail and working up) and more. I drew stick people with round heads and triangles for dresses.

I tried so hard to be an artist like Patty. I was nine or ten and my mom did her best to help, making sure I had books and materials to help me learn. She encouraged me in every way possible. But one day, hoping to build my esteem in other talents, she said, "You know, everyone has a gift. Patty is an artist. You write. That's just as important."

Oh, did that make me mad. And more determined. I studied fashion ads in the newspaper, Millie the Model comic books. I learned how to draw a profile. When I was in sixth grade, the teacher called my mom in for a conference to ask if I was "all right." For my art project, I drew probably a dozen floating profiles in a sea of blue that I titled "Heaven." No deep psychological issue or loss -- I just hadn't learned learned how to draw good bodies yet.

I copied things. All kinds of things. You couldn't tell my Charlie Brown and Lucy from Charles Schulz's! I wouldn't call it art, but I would call it trying. And that's how you get to Carnegie Hall -- practice, practice, practice. 

Every summer at the lake, Patty and I would paint, quite often the smooth rocks we would pull from the water. 

I would paint little children in the style of Joan Walsh Anglund. Patty would paint clever, original things. But by then it didn't matter if it was original or not. I was painting. (I still use those rocks as door stops at the lake!)

As I went off to college, Patty would send me delightfully creative letters, illustrated with a fifteen-year-old's impression of college life in the fall of 1969, which was actually pretty on target! By then, I was putting all my time into my theatre major. The only art I was doing were sketches for costume and scene design courses. Then it was on to my career in broadcasting where I wrote and edited every single day for more than 30 years. In between event planning and fundraising, wrote ads, articles, brochure copy, press releases, radio and television spots. Or maybe events and fundraising were done in between all the writing.

When I left the office, I volunteered in my community, did some freelance writing and lots of crafty things. I made jewelry and ornaments, knit, needlepointed, worked on my photography and painted sweatshirts (which really isn't the kind of painting I had in mind.) I started doing some art shows. They wouldn't pay the rent, but I was being creative.

Meanwhile, four hours away, Patty was involved in her work doing direct sales and marketing. She was good at it, she had "the knack." But she didn't have time for painting anymore.

Flash forward several decades. I rediscovered art, this time with collage and art journaling, joining groups and going to workshops where I largely did mixed media work. No drawing required.

Then about five or six years ago, I fell in love with watercolor.  Who would imagine that I would be doing commissions for pet portraits and paintings of homes? And yes, I still write.

Patty? Well, she started painting again, maybe ten or fifteen years ago, focusing on wildlife and landscapes. 

 She's had work in shops but mostly does it for the love of it.

And you'll never guess. She is writing. Her poetry is magnificent -- it flows from her, almost unbidden and as a series her poems weave a magical, otherworldly story. 

Our Greg is a remarkable artist and somehow is making a living from it in a competitive world, working in large form. From the time he was six or seven and drew a figure of a guitar player -- in proportion -- we knew he had a gift. 

His younger brother Kevin was "the athlete." More than once when they were growing up, Kevin would say "Greg is the artist, I can't do that." (The art teacher they shared in high school several years apart did nothing to help build esteem or skill, either.) Yet even when Kevin was about eleven, when we went to a museum, he could look at art and seemed to have an understanding of it. Not of the techniques used, but the thought behind it.

Yes, Greg is still doing his art and making a career of it. Today, Kevin spends the time he isn't working or playing with the boys making furniture and home accessories, carefully working a board of wood into tables and wine racks.  And, when it comes to household things, like building a pergola or a home reno thing, Kevin's your guy.  I would call his work art.

We must never allow ourselves to be labeled. If you want to be an artist and can't draw a straight line or a realistic figure, go abstract. If you want to write a poem and can't think outside the limerick format, try free verse and don't worry about the rhyme. 

I believe we all are creative in our own way. It's how our universe survives. Some of us paint or draw, knit or build, sew or work with intricate miniatures. Others of us create gorgeous tablescapes, have remarkable gardens or develop fabulous recipes. And don't try to convince me that computer programmers who can master code well beyond me or scientists who combine elements that can create vaccines and medications aren't creative. It's just a different way of thinking and I'm grateful they can do that!

We all have the ability to create. To think out of the box one way or another and come up with something meaningful. My art will never be in a museum but that's not why I do it. I do it for love, for fun, and because when I do, I feel better, more at peace. 

And we all need our own peace.

Creativity In Quarantine

With all the stress of Staying Home, anxiety about contracting Covid-19 and both collected grief for the changes in our world and individual grief for the loss of those close, finding ways to reduce that stress is critical. It may be reading, cooking, gardening or finding calm in creativity.

Two articles I recently discovered are well worth one's time: "The Therapeutic Power of Making Art" and "Finding Inspiration During Quarantine."

I've been doing both. For me, painting both calms and puts me in a Zen zone and also brings back a few memories, like visiting Martha's Vineyard and the charming cottages at the Oak Bluff's Campground.

Sometimes it reminds me of my walks at the Ditch.

Or it may recall memories of a fun visit several years ago to Rick's brother and sister-in-law in Massachusetts, where this barred owl took up residence in the tree for hours.

And other times, it puts onto paper experiences that our Toddler Twosome have enjoyed, even if I wasn't there to enjoy it with them.

If you want Zen, you can't beat the repetitive action of needle felting! I have done a fair amount of lambs this year.

But I also had fun with my French bear! He took forever. I'm not sure I can sell him!

The bigger part of my creative outlets has been my Quarantine Journal. It begins with my time in Canada just as things were breaking out and tightening up. The sketches are relatively quick ones and it's a change from my larger and more labored watercolors. I'm using a 90# Hahnemuhle sketch book, about 6x8.

I log the things that have been part of these many weeks, things like the numerous closings...

...the nervousness of going into the doctor's office...

...celebrating Easter (an unfinished spread)...

...my lifelines, the phone and the computer....

...the frustration of cold weather and yes, snow...

... the frustrations of online grocery shopping and the pleasures in cooking.

I've chronicled the events we see on the never-ending news and the fun of Zooming with friends.

And finally, a few honest thoughts about what this new life is.

There are more pages to come -- I have a feeling I'll be working on this journal for a very long time.

Finding My Creative Soul Over the Holidays

I'm delighted to sharing my tips on finding your creative soul during the busy holiday season over at Modern Creative Life.

Please stop by and say hello! And consider adding it to your blog reading list. There are wonderful and thoughtful articles about living a modern creative life with new ones every few days. Take a look at the submission page, too and join in!

Painting the Town Red and Green!

I've been in a creative and emotional slump of late. Initially I was burned out getting ready for the sale but it just got worse and worse. I needed something beautiful, fun, creative. I tried to get into a Southern Exposure workshop I'd not previously enrolled for but they were filled (and I'm headed back in another week or two anyway). Then I saw that Michelle Detering, who taught the watercolor-your-pet class was doing a Christmas card watercolor class.

I was so ready!

Michelle does a fun class and we had seven students eager to paint their hearts out. And paint we did. She had roughed in two designs, a deer...(here's an early look at mine)

...and a snowflake.

She taught us different background techniques and we were able to use some new materials like a wonderful fluid that mixed to make a pearly sheen on the snowflake.

Then we had two blank cards. On one we worked with a wax resist pencil, like the kind you get in Easter Egg kits.

On the other she showed us how to do a winter scene.

Your best work is rarely the work you do in your first class but I felt fairly pleased with most of mine and I think others in the class were, too.

And best of all, we had an enormous amount of fun.



Which for me was what it was all about! (Rudolph's red nose is not from the wine Michelle served, but some of my boo-boos may be related!)

Oh, and here's something to remember. A few days after the class, Pat, who attended with me, came over and she said "I liked my cards better the next day." And I agreed in terms of mine. If you aren't pleased with your work, or even if you are, leave it for awhile and come back later. You probably will like it better when you aren't so close to the frustration of getting it right. And if you don't, you can make any corrections or modifications when you aren't perhaps so stressed.

Do you make your own Christmas cards or some of them? Photos? Collage? Paint? Mixed Media? Do you make every card individually or do you photograph or scan and then print. (I recommend VistaPrint.com for nice quality, excellent prices and frequent sales.) Share!

Trying to Make Practice Make Perfect

It has come to my attention -- by me, in fact, though I'm sure others may have noticed it -- that I have a tendency to creative laziness! And I don't mean just procrastinating. I mean "not going for the gold star."

I've often told Rick, who diligently practices his classical guitar every night, "I love hearing you play. I just hate listening to practice."

Malcolm Gladwell, in his book "Outliers," speaks of how those who "make it" tend to have about 10,000 hours of prep work, writing and rewriting, painting and repainting, coding and recoding computer software.

I may take my time with a project -- or not -- but then it's done and on to the next one. A new canvas, arrangement, crafty bit. Creative ADD. There was a time in the 1980s during the peak of my knitting period that I was turning out a sweater a week, some reasonably complicated. I can't say all of those were made to gauge, that they all fit or that there weren't a million flaws. Off the needles, on to the next! (But I did use good yarn -- it takes just as much time to knit good yarn as cheap and it lasts much longer and holds up better.)

And yes, I proudly wore every single one of those sweaters. (And I still do, a couple of them.) But most? They were just OK. Not good, not great, not spectacular. Only a few things, like handwarmers and purses, really felt like they were done to the max. And I wonder -- if I saw them now would I feel the same? Probably not.

Now, I'm not saying everything I turn out is junk or that I don't agonize over some things and do them till I get them right. I do. (Rick's book is an example.) I have tons of photos of Harry the Heron because some are better than others -- sometimes because of me, sometimes because of camera or conditions. I can rewrite till I'm crazy.

But I've been a lazy painter.

A week or two ago I was reading Vivian Swift's inspiring blog. She is one of my favorites, partly for her wonderful humor and equally because almost every post includes a painting lesson of sorts, as we paint along with Vivian. (By this I don't mean I get out my paints while she is painting but her readers watch her through photos. Step by step.) Vivian's newest book, Gardens of Awe and Folly, will be released March 1 (my copy is on backorder!), and now she is at work on her next, featuring the gardens at Giverny, one of my favorite spots in the world.

As Vivian was working through a painting she repeatedly said, "That's not it."And did it again. And again. Four times.

And I thought, "Gee, if Vivian Swift has to start over four times, who am I to think I can just finish and go on to the next thing!"

I thought of my friend Kate, whose remarkable "Birdiferous" calendar has only 12 pages, yet she spends countless hours on each one. I realized with more than a bit of shamefaced humiliation, that I can turn out things fast and maybe just fine. But not necessarily perfect. And yes, I still am learning but then, isn't that when practice is most essential?

My realization took me on a journey back through my photos where, like Vivian, I found one of Giverny, though in my case, the town, not Monet's home. I started with a color pencil sketch. (Size: approximately 4x4.) The photo is blurry -- old camera -- but it isn't much better clear!

A little blobby. Not a lot of detail here. Maybe not the the right medium for the subject. So it was on to gouache. (I'm working on watercolor postcards, 4x6, for size comparison)

Round one, so-so. The trees need work and it's simply a little flat. (And that gate was driving me crazy.)

Round two, better. I started with a partially done sketch This time I did the gate first -- get the bad thing out of the way. I'm not all that happy but it's better than round one. The trees and flowers are a bit better too, I think. I kept trying to remember some of Vivian's methods and incorporate them. Safe to say she has no competition from me, but I am learning, getting the feel of the paint.

Round three. I began with my initial light sketch and some gentle color blocks.

Then I started putting in the trees, the garden, the detail on the walls. And back to that damn gate. Finally I realized I probably need steadier hands or a smaller brush to do the gate and pulled out the white gel pen and black Pitt markers.

It looks better. Actually a lot better, as I found myself adding more details. It has a bit more depth, I think and the flowers and leaves have improved, though the gate is still impossible. (But Rick liked the wall better in an earlier version!)

Maybe it's on to number four -- although I have to admit, a couple other subjects are calling my name!