Cooking is one of the few creative activities that I engage in pretty much everyday. However, I realized recently that somewhere along the line I stopped giving cooking the respect it deserves.

I have always enjoyed cooking but I guess my children—over time—with their penchant for the bland and the familiar, ate away at ( )the amount of creativity that I generally poured into daily meals. I remember my younger son exclaiming that a quickie “Sloppy Joe” dinner was “The best meal you’ve ever made, Mom!” That’s okay. As a busy mom, I’d take any compliment I could get.

But for years now, it’s ordinarily just my husband and myself and since we’re both adventurous eaters, I have free reign over what to cook. I’m not much of a planner. I work until my tummy tells me it’s time to eat, go downstairs, think about what I’m hungry for, see what’s available— sometimes pulling out three times as much as I’ll use—and start cooking. I rarely use a recipe for evening meals. The results are usually good and often delicious (my rule of thumb is Would I be happy if I’d paid for this at a restaurant? and often I can answer “Yes!” to that question)

However, I don’t usually think of it as part of my creative day.

Recently, I had a different kind of cooking that needed to be done. We—like many people this time of year—have a surplus of zucchini from our little garden. I don’t even particularly LIKE zucchini so I knew that I needed some creative ways of using up these mass quantities. I looked on the internet for zucchini breads and ran across a beautiful cooking blog called 101 Cookbooks by Heidi Swanson. There, I found a recipe for a zucchini bread with an ‘Indian’ twist. This looked perfect as I was having my book club over that weekend. Our book club does a pot luck dinner with food suggested by the book we’ve read and this time it was Indian.

I set to work making this and what I ended up with was not only a yummy dessert and a little less zucchini to deal with but also a renewed appreciation for cooking as both a creative outlet and catalyst.

Right from the start this zucchini bread recipe offered me two things: 1) the opportunity to bake—which I love but don’t allow myself the time to do and 2) a recipe to follow. Nothing earth-shattering there, but it dawned on me as I got into it that following a recipe was allowing me a mental escape. Follow the directions. Do this, then do this, then do that.

Relaxation was the first thing I noticed. I scooped and measured the dry ingredients, enjoying the gentle mess of flour as it sifted across the counter. I used my food processor with childlike glee to shred that huge zucchini in the photo in a just few seconds.

Then I noticed that the relaxation was overlaid with something else: stimulation. My sense of smell became activated in a major way by the ingredients. Lemon zest! Wow, what a virtual explosion of associations: summer and heat and childhood and so many others—all good! Then there were the more familiar but homey smells of pecans (being from Texas where pecans grow, I used them instead of walnuts), cinnamon and vanilla. My senses were further delighted by surprising ingredients such as crystallized ginger and curry powder. What yummy smells and sooo delicious.

By the time I popped the two pans in the oven, I was as relaxed, happy and energized as if I’d had a late-afternoon walk on the beach or a great yoga class. I felt raring to go! Ready to take on more baking (I used up more, though not all, of the zucchini on Heidi’s gorgeous chocolate zucchini cupcakes! which we are still enjoying around here) and more of anything creative I could get my hands on.

I would have come upstairs and written this post right then if I hadn’t had Book Club coming the next night!

What I realized—remembered—is that cooking, when we can relax into it involves the senses as few other activities do. Not only smell and—of course, taste—but touch and sometimes even hearing. And it’s one of those activities such as walking or riding a bike, driving or taking a shower that can put us into a C-mindful state. I’ve often worked through plot knots while cooking. The activity is absorbing enough that it distracts but it doesn’t require a great deal of concentration—sometimes none at all. Perfect for c-mind problem solving!

So here’s the reminder: We have to eat, so why not approach the occasional cooking *chore* as an opportunity to delight our senses, relax our minds and catalyze whatever we want to do with our excess creative energy.

bon appétit

“Mount Desert Dragons” acrylic on canvas 16″ x 20″ © 2007 Tyler Darvintyne; all rights reserved

It’s wonderful to think that The PCQ has enough history and pure BULK to it that I can be distracted for so many weeks and still have new and renewable readers drop by everyday. Welcome to you all!

Over the summer, I didn’t post as much as I expected but I knew that I was doing well and good by taking a break from what had been a months-long task of putting this zine and its archives into the new format. I needed to get outside, enjoy the too-short summer months, do some physical work and complete other tasks that had been put off too long. It was a great summer.

However, I didn’t expect September to be such a bust as far as posting! I was so inspired and had great ideas for several new articles and posts, but guess what? I didn’t have time.

“dark matter telescopic” 12 x 9 acrylic on canvas © 2007 Tyler Darvintyne; all rights reserved

A trip to see my son and granddaughter came up unexpectedly. My son had the opportunity to show his art work last weekend in Bar Harbor, Maine and he needed help—babysitting and otherwise. I’ve included in this post some samples of his art. I think of it as pure energy with a large dollop of joy. I love it!

“Skies of Van Gogh” acrylic on canvas; 11″ x 14″
by Tyler Darvintyne © 2007 all rights reserved

His first outing was exhausting work for all of us, but a big success. He not only sold quite a bit of art, he learned a massive amount about how to show and sell his work.

I also got to spend almost 10 days with my granddaughter, Acadia, also known as “Cadi.” She’s 27 months old. What an age! I kept thinking, No wonder Tyler is so creative these days, he’s got Cadi around to inspire him everyday. But of course, we all know that it’s not that simple. Children are exhausting and Tyler is raising her all by himself with no family nearby to give him any relief. I think the explosion of creativity is as much about needing to do something other than parenting as much as anything else.

“Land Ho” acrylic on canvas 9″x12″ © 2007 Tyler Darvintyne all rights reserved

Whatever the reason, it’s certainly working for him. Here’s the artist, Darvintyne with a few of his paintings:

And finally, though I don’t post too many purely personal items here, I can’t resist another image, this one of Cadi. Long-time readers will remember her newborn to infant photos from the original PCQ subscriber’s page. She’s still the best!

aka “GRANCY”

For more of Darvintyne’s work go to: quintessential abstractions- http://tylermetzger.wordpress.com

[process, essay]

by Nancy S.M. Waldman

Hi everyone. Welcome to September. Summer here in North America is fast waning—even though where I am in Nova Scotia, September is one of the best weather months.

I’ve been feeling quite ambivalent about the PCQ over the summer. There are lots of new visitors and subscribers and readers which is wonderfully gratifying and fun for me—Welcome to all of you!!—but I haven’t posted frequently or sent out emails which made me feel a little guilty. On the other hand, I’ve had a great summer for creativity so I felt that I was working to recharge my batteries, build up my reserves and just change things up for a while. As we know, it’s easy to get in a rut. Even if it’s a creative one that works for us, it’s still a rut and ruts tend to get deeper and less roomy the longer we’re in them. Sooner or later, we have to climb out, stretch and look around for a renewed way of being.

Summer is the best time for me to do this.

My husband and I have an old Victorian-era house that we’re fixing up (the exterior), so we have a small window of opportunity for working outside. August is prime time. It felt really *right* to be outside doing physical work. I had spent so much time at my computer last year that I was beginning to have nerve pain from too much sitting! I thought the physical strain might be problematic for an old gal like me who’d been so sedentary of late, but not only did it feel great (okay, there were mornings when I woke up in considerable pain—but it was the *good* kind of pain that went away fast!), but it got rid of my sciatica almost immediately!

More than all that, it reminded me that as much as I love the computer—The PCQ, the writing, the digital photo work, the website design, the computer art—I also love other things that I’ve been neglecting. I haven’t been playing the piano and will soon loose what little ability I have if I don’t remember to practice. I love cooking, baking, yoga, gardening, reading, quilting, photography, painting and more. None of those can be done while sitting at the computer.

It’s all about balance, isn’t it? And balance, like most things in life, isn’t static. It requires constant adjustment. Think of a tight-rope walker. A short walk high above the ground requires untold numbers of constant muscular changes to negotiate the span. No matter how many times the acrobat has walked the rope, no matter how talented or experienced, his awareness of balance must be at the forefront of his mind every single time.

As we grow and evolve, we’re the same. We don’t get to a point where balance becomes automatic. Our lives will always be susceptible to being off-kilter. And, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. If we come across some new passion, there’s not a thing wrong with throwing ourselves into it even if we neglect certain other things for that new activity! However, when we realize there are beginning to be negative side effects from our tilted world, (like nerve pain from sitting at a computer for hours a day!) we still and always have to stop, take stock and see what we can do to re-achieve balance.

What can get easier over time, is our awareness of the need for balance. For me, the seasons help. While I no longer have kids (in the house) who go back to school, September is a change nonetheless. I like to use the different seasons to trigger my awareness of how I’m spending my time in the context of ALL the things I love to do and want to accomplish.

What about you? What triggers your awareness that it’s time to readjust the balance in your life? Take care all and happy change of seasons wherever you are!

[-painting, process, interview-]

Interview with artist, Donna Marsh
by Nancy Waldman

what I’m reading; oil on canvas, 8 x 16; © 07 donna marsh all rights res.

Donna is an internet friend whose juicy paintings have inspired me to begin painting again after a long time away from it. I knew that she had stopped painting for years and has returned to it fairly recently, so I asked her questions that are pertinent to this process of picking up a “lost art” and also ones that her paintings made me wonder about. I share my questions and Donna’s answers with you in the expectation that there are others out there who have gotten away from a creative activity that they love; those who need a push to get back to it.

Whether or not you’re in that situation, I know you’ll enjoy reading Donna’s story, her thoughts about painting and of course, seeing a few of Donna’s more recent paintings. If you are thinking about picking up a lost art, here is your nudge in the right direction.

green room with mirror; oil on canvas, 14 x 18; © 2007 donna marsh all rights reserved

What got you back into painting after a long time away from it?

I was working as a cashier at a grocery store. An old painter who has a name around here started talking art to me whenever I tallied his oranges. He gave me a book of his paintings. I also accepted an invitation to go see some of them. This was really exciting for me because I hadn’t thought about painting in a long time. After two years in a college fine arts program life moved on the way it does and I just forgot about it. I never really decided to stop. I just forgot I did it. When Mr. Nemeth found out I had bothered to study he wanted to see my paintings. I didn’t have any. He said, “But you don’t stop. You never stop. You can take a rest sometimes but you don’t stop.” Then he never stopped asking for that painting until I produced it. He had an answer for everything too. When I told him I didn’t have any paint he picked a day to go downtown and buy some. He gave me brushes. Later on he advised me to quit my job because I wasn’t painting enough.

I told him I needed the money. His answer, “The world looks after artists.” What a wonderful way to think. I thought it was a bit nuts but he was born in 1919. He had to know a thing or two.

It was like coming back to life to paint again.

houses, Dorval; oil on canvas, 20 x 20, © 2007 donna marsh all rights reserved

What’s been most difficult about getting back into it?

There was a lot of fear in the beginning. People see paintings. They’re hard to hide. Maybe I didn’t know how anymore and people would see that. I had to get over that “doing things right” anxiety because to get it back and then go forward, I had to be willing to let things go wrong. Also, painting is messy and takes up a lot of physical space. I had to learn how to take that space and defend that space because it was important. The same applied to the time. Defending the time has probably been the most difficult part of getting back into it. In school I was studying so nobody ever questioned it. It was hard to teach others and myself that “I’m home painting” does not equal “I’m doing nothing please interrupt me.”

balconies and fire escapes; oil on canvas, 30 x 36; © 2007 donna marsh, all rights reserved

Do you have any tips for other painters in the same situation?

People actually have opinions about what painters should paint. This can be a shock at first. But if they’re really dying for a certain image to come into being they can go paint it themselves. Paint what you want and don’t worry about it making sense or fitting in with what’s going on at the other easels or even fitting in with what you most admire. Sometimes these things don’t work out to be the same. I can sit for hours in front of large minimalist works that appear to be one grey, taking in the sweep of the brushstrokes and subtle gradations of light on the work. Though it wouldn’t excite me to paint that myself, I’m glad it excited Charles Gagnon enough to paint it. It’s taken me a few years to know what I want to paint. I find if it excites me I’m on the right track. Execution becomes a fascinating challenge.

let’s get lost; oil on canvas, 24 x 36 inches; © 2007 donna marsh, all rights reserved

Do you paint from photos? what’s in front of you? memory? imagination?

I paint from photos and from what’s in front of me. I’m interested in painting more from memory. I think there’s always imagination in a painting. I admit I’ve been working out some guilt over the use of photos. I wasn’t trained that way. It wasn’t allowed. But I like to have something to look at as a starting point and I found the terrain too limited for what I wanted to do if I only painted “in situ”. I still enjoy getting out for some plein air work or I’ll drag the outdoor easel over to something in the house that interests me. There’s a different feeling to translating space that’s all around me and in front of me. I like to stay in touch with that.

a hotel window; oil on canvas, 20 x 24; © 2007 donna marsh, all rights reserved

In what ways has your painting changed over the years?

The big difference between now and then (when I stopped) is that my colours are brighter and I’m less inhibited. I like to feel the paint and really muck around in it. Impasto is no longer a stranger to me. In the years since I’ve restarted, I find my understanding of what I want to paint has become much clearer and the paintings make more sense to me as a group. Also as I gain more control over the paint I get looser.

drive-thru service; oil on canvas, 22 x 28; © 2007 donna marsh, all rights reserved

And now, my turn—why Donna’s work is so inviting and appealing to me.

Part of it is what Donna talks about when she mentions Charles Gagnon. Often what we like is something that we would never choose to paint ourselves. I am drawn to Donna’s urban and suburban landscapes because I wouldn’t think to paint them but I like seeing them. Her use of thick paint and bright colours for these seemingly drab subjects makes me want to re-think them. It makes me believe that I haven’t really seen what’s there.

I am also drawn in by the energy in these paintings. The brush strokes, the lines drawn into them, the runny paint, all impart the bodily energy that Donna uses when she paints. The paint may have dried and hardened but the energy is still there as I look at them.

I also notice space, or lack of it, in Donna’s work. In ‘houses, dorval’ we get a long wide open view. The paint is applied going away from us, stretching out in response to the scene. In ‘balconies and fire escapes’ the lack of space is part of what makes it all so effective. The representation of over-lapping structures makes me feel the crowdedness of a city.

Being representational scenes, there is also light to consider. With Donna’s paintings, the light is conveyed through colour. I don’t get the feeling that there is any separation as she paints, between the objects and the atmosphere and quality of light that is with them. This gives the a glow to the work that seems to radiate from within.

Energy, colour, looseness, inner light. It’s not ’safe’ painting and, for me, that’s why they work.

Thanks, Donna for sharing your work and your thoughts with us. You can see more of Donna’s paintings at her flickr site. Donna lives with her family in Quebec, Canada where she just manages to carve out time and space to paint.

[-process, painting-]

Mama and baby gables

Originally uploaded by nuanc.

Hi all! I took some time off from posting during July. It’s been good to get outside and away from the computer. One of the things I’ve been doing is painting—but not my usual kind.

We are finishing up painting the roof line of our old house. This project started in 2002 when my husband put a pitched roof on the previously flat-roofed house. That gave us five new gables. (They are all different sizes so, in order to be able to refer to them without confusion, I dubbed them the Grandfather, Papa, Mama, Teenager and Baby Gables.)

We decided to give the outside of the house more detailing and a lot more colour! The painting started in 2003 with the largest of the gables. We are only now back around to where we started with the last little bit of trim near the roof. (Then we have the rest of the house to paint….after we put on a new front porch!)

The painting is, as you can see, fairly intricate and calls for precision. As I paint, I can’t help but be pulled back to other times in my life where I’ve used paint brushes on a daily basis to do art, not house painting. The feel of paint leaving a paint brush is very enticing, even when all you’re trying to do is paint a straight line.

The process puts me back in touch with that realm of paint and colour, edges and transitions, the build-up of colour and illusion of light that all go into painting a picture on paper or canvas. It is attracting me back to something that I once spent a lot of time doing but have been away from for a long time.

So what do I do with this urge that I’m not only feeling, but—now with this post—acknowledging in public?

It would be easiest for me to let it pass. That I have other interesting and important things to do with my time, other than paint, is true. That summer is busy enough without starting in on another creative pursuit is logical. But the real reason I have for resisting the urge to put paint on paper or canvas is that I’m afraid. I’m afraid of not being inspired once I get to it. I’m afraid that the urge is best felt and not acted on. I’m afraid that what was once a passion of mine, will not recur for me if I try it again. I’m afraid that what I paint will be unsatisfying and mediocre. All of these things and more have kept me away from painting for years now.

But here’s the other side of fear. One of the big reasons I started Practically Creative was to use it as a fulcrum (”an agent through which vital powers are exercised.”) in continuing to work through blocks and indecisions and self-defeatist issues that have always been a part of my creativity. I have fewer problems than I used to, but—as this as yet un-acted on urge shows—those issues never fully recede.

I’ll paint something other than my house today (it’s raining today, anyway). I’ll dust off some tubes of paint, pick a favourite brush or two and I’ll start small. I can’t promise myself much but I think I can manage enjoyment of the seductive feel of paint coming off a brush.

Then, I’ll see what appears.

Happy last days of July!

Here’s a post from my blog that has photos and details of the house painting project: The Up Side of Outside
Another post about the history of our old house: Of Things Dreamed Of

[-process, essay-]

by Nancy S.M. Waldman

As we create, we use up media, materials, tools, ideas, time, and our own creative energy. Working from abundance means having a well of resources—more than we need—to create what we want.

My son used this expression in a conversation about the new songs he had just recorded. I mentioned how much the phrase resonated with me and he said that he had heard it from a professor who used it in terms of writing. In both instances, they were talking about accumulating, creating, way more than is needed for a project and then winnowing it down later to a more refined level.

Not everyone creates this way. I have a friend who writes sparsely and then fleshes out the story after she has the skeleton of it constructed. I’m the opposite. I overwrite and then must be brutal with myself about taking out everything that isn’t necessary.

However, the crucial aspect of abundance isn’t the number of words we write or the collection of materials on our worktables or the amount of paint we have at our disposal. It’s not even about time.

Time is necessary and without it we can’t create. But, there are people with loads of time who don’t use it to record music, make art or write novels. So having the time will only work for us if we have an abundance of what will motivate us to work, to play, to innovate.

Working from abundance is more about a certain attitude. This attitude incorporates elements of openness, generosity, fearlessness, confidence. At times, whimsy and audacity. It involves letting go of negatives, so there can be no sparsity of spirit. It’s about not worrying that we will use up all our good ideas if we throw everything we’ve got at a project. It’s about having faith that creativity is a renewable and sustainable resource.

There’s also energy to consider. Creative energy doesn’t have to be about being upbeat and feeling energetic. Many depressed people, who didn’t have the energy to bathe, have created masterpieces. It’s about using what we have to put into the process of creating.

While it’s true there are those instances when the more we create, the more energized we feel, it does have a limit. We have to always be aware of when we begin to feel like a worn-out battery. At that point, the idea is to get away from what is depleting us and re-charge ourselves. Working from an abundance of creative spirit will always result in a more effective creation.

And perhaps, that’s all we need to remember about abundance. If we can accumulate a deep pool of the attitude of abundance, then we will have what we need to create what we want.

[-crackles!, c-mindfulness-]

by Nancy Waldman

I am in the process of writing an article on using the non-dominant hand in journaling as a way to reach the R-mind. In doing so, I decided that my icon and ’short-hand’ talk of R-mindfulness, based on Betty Edwards work regarding the use of brain hemisphere dominance to teach art, is at the least out-of-date and at the most, offensive to the small percentage of left-sided creative brains out there. The good news is that those people don’t know they’re offended because most of us haven’t had our brains examined.

The traditionally-dubbed *creative side* of the brain is usually but not always the right side. The dominant hemisphere of a person’s brain is not necessarily the left side although research supports an estimate of left brain dominance in at least 70% of people. And in looking at this today, I’m reminded that ‘dominance’ isn’t always about language but frequently about motor skills. Handedness is one of the ways this has been studied and, researchers have found that not all left-handed people (approximately 15% of the population) are right brain dominant even in motor skills. This is an area of research that has no definitive answers but there are some studies that have suggested that the more firmly dominant the left-handedness is, the more likely that person is to be right brain dominant at least in terms of language.

Confused? Me too. Every time I wade into the marshy bog of *Creative Sides of the Brain* I feel that I’ll soon be up to my elbows in a thick peaty mush of ideas that do not have scientific studies to back them up. So why bother? Because it’s fascinating! Because we all have brains and because conventional wisdom is that we use a fraction of the power of the brain in our everyday life. Because the kinds of exercises that I’ve been calling “R-mindfulness” do work on some level for most people to trick the dominant, organizing, practical side of our brains into letting go for a while, so that we can put the non-verbal, metaphorical, visual sides at the forefront while we’re creating.

But because not everyone accesses the right side of the brain when they do my R-mindfulness exercises, my referring to the R-mind is—what shall I call it?—hemispherism? leftism?

Wikipedia in talking about the historical and cultural bigotry surrounding left-handedness (or just ‘left’) points out:

Even the word “ambidexterity” reflects the bias. Its intended meaning is, “skillful on both sides.” However, since it keeps the Latin root “dexter,” which means “right,” it ends up conveying the idea of being “right-handed at both sides.” This bias is also apparent in the lesser-known antonym “ambisinistrous,” which means “clumsy on both sides” and derives from the Latin root “sinister.”

So from now on, the articles about R-mindfulness will have to reflect my newly raised-consciousness about this. However, the phenomenon discussed in these articles is the same whatever side of the brain is less dominant. The point is to access the lesser used portions in tricky ways so as to circumvent the normal functions. It’s complicated so I have to call it something simple!

How about…full-mindfulness? F-mind? ooh. Not so good. The innocent letter “F” has an undeserved and much more negative bias even than left-handers. There’s mind-fully or, quite appropriate in a metaphorical sense, fully-mined. Well…that probably gets us off-track. Fully-mindful is too fully-mouthful. Whole-mind is used in other ways to teach reading and such. Non-dom, short for non-dominant? That’s a bit negative. Alternate-mind. Alternate-hemisphere? Alt-mind? That sounds like a keystroke shortcut. Oh, there you go: Alt-control! Hmmm. Alt-hemi? Demi-hemi? Semi-demi-hemi?

Okay. This is a total illustration of how my creativity works (or more specifically: does not work).

For now I will settle on C-mind—short for Creative Mind—until, unless, I can think of a better iconic term.

Any suggestions?

June 16: This article was withdrawn and re-written after its first posting, evidently to illustrate more fully my personal brain’s challenges.

For a brief description of what I’m talking about, here’s the first article I wrote about the R-mind.
Here’s another one called Changing States.
Click on C-mind tag to get a full-listing or go to our Topics list and click on C-mindfulness

[-photography, process-]

red carnation

Originally uploaded by nuanc.

This photo is one I took over two years ago. It came up this morning while I was playing the game Free Association! on flickr. The game involves posting an image in response to the last one posted by someone else. I did a flickr search through my photos for “window” and “silhouette” and this popped up. I hadn’t seen it in a long time and I found that I enjoyed it—really for the first time.

It has unexpected qualities. The distorted shape of the window. The gradation of blue from the top of the window to the whiter light at the bottom. The reflection of green on the window sill and the way the light between the tree branches seems to slide inside into to the corner of the window. The pop of red! And there’s something going on between outside and inside. That’s open to interpretation, of course, but either the flower faces the window as if yearning to be outside or perhaps the bare birch tree is admiring/envious of that splash of living colour. I’m not sure, but there’s certainly a hint of communication between the two.

All of this, of course, was unintended.

I took the photograph with my LOMO LC-A. It’s a refurbished version of a cheap camera made in Russia decades ago and it gives erratic and often impressionistic results—which is why LOMO’s have become popular and lucrative long after the cameras stopped being manufactured.

This photo was of a truly unremarkable scene. My step-son had been visiting and left an empty can of 7-UP on his window sill. Also in his room (this was after he’d gone home) I found a red carnation that he’d picked up in some restaurant we’d been to. Rather than toss both of them immediately into the waste basket, I put the carnation in the 7-UP can and took some LOMO’s.

This morning when I really saw it for the first time, it made me think about the act of creating as one of constantly expecting the unexpected. This image isn’t just about the unpredictability of the LOMO, though that’s a big part of it. It is also about taking the time to photograph an unremarkable scene and to chance shooting a dull, unsuccessful photograph in order to come up with something that has something different to offer. It took combining the colours of what was there: the metallic green 7-UP can and the red carnation against the white and blue background and taking it from a low angle in order to catch the super blue of the highest sky. It took depending on the unpredictability of the little Russian camera.

Each act of creation is an act of faith. We don’t know if it’s going to work out or not. That’s never the point. Doing it is the point. Doing it with an open heart and sense of expectancy that will allow us to recognize—once it’s done—when we have indeed caught the unexpected.

[-writing, exercise-]

Writing takes activity. You have to write the words down on the page. Everyone knows that. But what’s going on inside as you make that effort to put a story together? Think about the issue of control and how it does or doesn’t work for you. We tend to think of energy, activity, the doing part of it as the most important. But consider another viewpoint. Here’s what Brenda Ueland says about it:

Willing is doing something you know already, something you have been told by somebody else; there is no new imaginative understanding in it. And presently your soul gets frightfully sterile and dry because you are so quick, snappy and efficient about doing one thing after another that you have not time for your own ideas to come in and develop and gently shine.

In this spirit, here’s a daydreaming exercise to foster the idea of letting go so that you can dream something up rather than just jotting something down.

Sit in front of your computer. Look at the keyboard for a few moments. Put your fingers on the keys and type a sentence. Type ANYTHING.
For example:

your thoughts:
• I am typing a sentence.
• This is a stupid exercise.
• I hate this.
• What am I doing this for?

whatever comes into your head, no matter how weird:

• Dogs with feathers would create nests in their sleep.
• Wallpaper hides cracks and peels when it’s old.
• My teeth might crumble before I die.

the most random nonsense you can come up with:
• Jumbled crossover blinks always allay floods.
• Accessing liverwurst can be the answer to pink socks.
• Everyone jousts because the ghostly phone didn’t ring.

Now here’s the hard part. As soon as you’ve put the period on your sentence, delete it.

As fast as you can, type something else.

Delete that.

Keep doing it for at least ten minutes, more if you can tolerate it.

Now begin your writing for the day.

This exercise does three important things:

1. It loosens your mind by making flighty associations and spurring imaginative juxtapositions on the page
2. It clears the mind of the top layer of dry, tired dirt so that the underlying fertile soil is available to you
3. It provides practice in letting go of words.
   This is a valuable lesson for a writer because we all tend to love what comes out of us. Our words are our babies and we don’t like to make them disappear once they are on the paper. But we have to know how as well as when to delete. This will help.

[process, inspiration]

Book box

Originally uploaded by cramzy.

A Good Sunday Morning in May to you all!

The photo to the right is one from The Practically Creative Group on flickr. It’s posted by ‘cramzy,’ a wonderful fibre artist whose work has impressed me continually.

Cramzy, also known as Emmy Schoonbeek, does all kinds of fanciful, beautiful and colourful stitchery, constructions and embellishments. This one caught my eye because of its cross-pollination effect. It’s so many things and includes so many things all at once.

It’s fibre art. It’s collage. It’s construction. It’s functional. It’s art. It’s a box. It’s a book. It’s got words, music, textile, paper, beads and probably lots more that we can’t see. Do click the image to see it in larger form.

I believe that this process of cross-pollination is one of the best ways to be freshly inspired and motivated.

It’s easy to utilize various skills and interests in our work when we’re already FEELING inspired and creative. That’s part of what makes it fun when one good idea or impulse bounces off another to create something new and unique. But it also can work for us when we can’t find that FEELING.

If you are in the doldrums with painting, try writing in your journal. Brainstorm. Do calligraphy until it turns into something else. Play with letters until they are abstract shapes.

If you can’t get started writing, do a quick symbolic collage of your main character. Or put on music that you love but don’t often listen to.

Another trick is to use these alternate parts of ourselves to be creative while taking a break from whatever has depleted our motivation. For example, when I’ve written myself into a corner, I find cooking to be a wonderful activity to immerse myself in. It’s creative and involves the senses but it doesn’t require a lot of mental concentration. This flow of activity allows my mind time to wander in a relaxed way. Without forcing it, I often find a way out of that corner and come back to the writing inspired and motivated—with a good meal under my belt!

Thanks, Emmy, for your inspiration this morning. Be sure to visit cramzy on flickr and at her blog.