Showing Up
I’ve been slowly sliding away from social media as of late. Like a lot of people, I’m tracking more and more how it makes me feel and trying to determine how I want to engage. I think I will continue there, but I like writing here more and more. I’ve been exploring in a lot of different directions lately. February is smack dab in the middle of my “slow season” , and this year I’m allowing myself to take advantage of that moment of differing pace and priority.
I’ve told you I’ve been planning. Well, now I’m expanding on that….
Right now, I’m part of a Creative group that meets online twice a week. It’s a container to commit time for creativity, show up with presence, hold space for others, and share openly. It’s an affirming place to explore some sharp edges around sharing, imperfectly. I decided to dedicate that time to creating open-endedly. Without an end goal in mind, I simply show up to my creativity. I’m writing more. I’m creating for me. Nothing I’ve made has to do with my selling. (At least, not seemingly - we’ll see). Today I’m reminded of something that came up on a call: how we can consistently show up for/with what we’re working on.
I think most people think that Artists spend their lives in a perpetual flow state, creating magic every time they put pen to page. However, what it actually looks like (for a lot of us) is a series of fits and starts and disparate parts that seemingly don’t go together. Now and then, there’s a flash in the pan or a grand catalyst that brings it all into one crystallized endeavor. And once that happens, so much work still remains: to revise, to edit, cut back, or refrain.
If that’s the case, then the only way is to keep showing up, day after day. Imperfectly. Inconveniently. Inconceivably.
I’m learning to remain open and receptive to my own creativity. I’m learning to stop and listen when it tugs at my shirt impatiently. I’m learning to give it time to breathe. I’m learning to listen, quietly. The biggest concept I’ve learned is this: There is no forcing creativity. But that doesn’t mean you don’t do the work, show up, and just be there, consistently. Someone on today’s call said “No result is part of the process”. I’m finding if I go into open-ended creation without a set goal, it’s freeing. Though, I’ve found pieces of this big realization before….along the way with my existing process. Several people are shocked to find that I work right on the canvas with ink - with that, there is no erasing. They tell me its a way of creating boldly and brazenly, but I disagree.
Here’s how I usually create my black and white line art pieces:
I start with a loose sketch - as loose as can be. In these, I’m looking for the gestures of a drawing and seeing where each part wants to be. I believe I could stand to do more sketching. But, that’s not always freeing.
From there, I sketch very lightly on the canvas - just a few guiding lines to show me where to place ink, eventually.
And then, I go in with the magic of pen and let the ink flow fluidly. I work really close and take time with the edges, making the lines flow seemingly effortlessly. I step back, often, to get a glimpse of the bigger picture that’s forming. When a seeming “mistake” crops up unexpectedly, I respond. The image and I dance together, back and forth, accordingly.
“That line wants to go there” I think.
“So let me see….where do I now think this other line should be”.
I think this process lends these drawings a certain flexibility alongside their rigidity. I often stumble on divine inspiration in ways I can never foresee. And, when a piece is finished, it still has a lot to teach me. I often put finished drawings up on my wall and look at them endlessly. Once a piece is outside the creator, it takes on a life of its own. It has stories. Sometimes it feels like it doesn’t even belong to me. Sometimes I see:
That ridge is a metaphor for a difficult journey…
That backpack is weight - does she want to carry?
The light and the dark coexist here, mindfully.
That texture speaks to a singular moment, playfully.
There is much to see if we’re looking, carefully. I let the work breathe, and then, it’s free of me.
I’ve been thinking a lot about when I create, what for, how, and what purpose. I’m finding there are hundreds of thousands of ways I create - the possibilities are endless. I want to share this process with you to show you there’s nothing innate. I show up with increasing consistency to find creativity waiting.
I don’t always see the ending, but the journey is worth taking.
If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading!
As a gift, here is an excerpt from some of my recent writings:
I take a few steps haltingly, finding footing with new feet, falling and laughing uproariously at the sound of a melody.
Can it be that I’m dancing?
Peering through ferns and fallen trees, I softly savor the loamy seeds of this reality and try to embrace the mystery of not knowing:
How
Why
What For and
What End.
