"I believe that true identity is found in creative activity springing from within. It is found when one loses oneself."
-Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Every artist asks the questions: who am I? Where do I and my art fit in? What art do I even make or want to be known for? These and many other questions have been swirling. I asked my mother recently, "is there a memory you have of the moment you thought, 'That girl is an artist'? "
Her response was comforting and not surprising. "It's more like a collage of memories of you totally locked in when you were creating. The whole world slipped away. You were all in. That photo of you looking at me with your earphones on at our kitchen table is what I feel when I think of your life of art. 100% in the process."
All in.
She was referring to a state of "flow," characterized by a balance between challenge and skill with an intrinsic reward. (If you've seen the film Soul, you know.) You can read more about this psychology here (it's very interesting). How anyone gets into a flow state is based on the individual. I do know, however, that that activity is based on following your spark--what lights you up. What keeps drawing you back and in. What keeps you awake at night or restlessly daydreaming during the day. What makes you giddy.
Creative Identity
Whether it's a blank canvas, screen, or room, every creative person faces the same decision: start making something, or quit. Make something that has never existed before, or abandon ship. It's a wild thought.
I'm reading "The Creative Habit: Learn It and Use It For Life" by Twyla Tharp. Chapter 2 discusses rituals of preparation--the things we do to set ourselves up for creative action and flow. Habits are strong patterns of behavior that can be honed for creative success. How and when do you begin your day? Where do you create? What do you surround yourself with, and what tools do you use? Do you listen to music, or is that too distracting? What music?
One week I was struggling with a painting. It wasn't telling me what it needed, and I couldn't see how to finish it. My kids all had tennis practice that evening, so I went into the studio for 90 minutes. I turned on some rock music (AD/DC, Foo Fighters, and the like) and basked in being completely alone in the whole building. I painted with ease and finished it the next day. Sometimes it pays to switch it up, even though I am talking about creating habits.
I always write at night. It's the only time everything is finally quiet, and I can hear my thoughts again. I wrote my whole dissertation at night for FNP school; I felt chained to that desk, but I got it done. I'm still learning about how I create and what the common thread is. I can tell you a primary factor is being utterly left alone, without distraction. Only then can I sink into that flow state.
Twyla writes, "...a little self-knowledge goes a long way. If you understand the strands of your creative DNA, you begin to see how they mutate into common threads in your work. You begin to see the "story" that you're trying to tell; why you do the things you do (both positive and self-destructive); where you are strong and where you are weak (which prevents a lot of false starts), and how you see the world and function in it."
Creative identity is more than artistic style and voice. It's how you creatively process and function. I just met an artist who stares at the corner of a room until she gets a breakthrough--cutting out stimuli to allow her creative flow of ideas. White noise, no noise; once you figure out how you creatively tick, creativity flows.
When you have a "Eureka!" moment, take note of the factors that may have helped you get to that moment. Or what helps you mentally switch gears, to reset. And, of course, what factors you can control.
Inktober & Creative Ritual
If you're not familiar with Inktober (I only learned about it last year), it's a month-long challenge to improve creative skills and habits. Artists create sketches according to the word prompts and share them online. I was asked in September to participate in a local business's Inktober gallery with other area artists. I saw it as a chance to start testing the wild inks I'd been making and see what comes of it.
Here are a few key takeaways from that month:
- This was indeed a challenge. I didn't feel like doing it some of the days, or the word prompt wasn't really inspiring. But I showed up and did them anyway (I played catchup and did three on Mondays!).
- It brought me back to painting some realism, which was both frustrating and rewarding. Switching gears made me appreciate my abstract lean even more.
- I learned how the wild inks blend and sit with each other on paper. The results were absolutely delightful.
- Creative exercises with set limitations (in this case, the prompt) get you to focus and move past your inner critic.
- I started my days in the studio with my ink sketches and shared them on Instagram. It became my little morning studio ritual and warm-up.
- It was all more time-consuming than I anticipated, but I created things I would never choose to create otherwise. (Except booger. Nope. I refused.)
Now that Inktober has been over, I am taking what I learned last month and starting most of my studio days with a larger wild ink sketch (series is on the way). Same ritual, different subject matter. It might be time to start making my tea again in the studio...
