The urge to create, that wellspring all humans have, takes many forms.
The pregnant woman, secure in her body, creates new life. In fact, when the time comes that a woman knows, absolutely, she won’t have another child, there is often a surge of creativity.
Some have speculated that men need to build skyscrapers because they don’t have this built-in creative act. Of course, their contribution to life is essential, but it does not compare to carrying a growing baby within one’s body, the first sign of life—that little fish-like quiver, the swelling tummy that says this child is growing big and strong; and then the enormous transforming and cathartic birth.
A friend of mine, who had her babies late in life after many years of other kinds of creative effort, bemoaned the dearth of creativity in her life. She used to sew, to really care about decorating and her work as a teacher and then she found she no longer did. Having gone through the process of having children, helping them grow up and leave home, I could tell her that her creative impulse would indeed return and her need was probably more than fulfilled with the energy she was using raising those kids.
Creativity needs nurturing; it needs stimulation and time. I know several visual artists who talk about the time needed, not just for the actual painting or sculpting, but the need for time spent staring off into space, or taking a walk, while the deep process that produces originality has time to bubble up from the subconscious. It takes some “down time” with nothing to do nowhere to go and no one to see.
One friend in Santa Fe is the wife of a talented and successful artist with a quirky sense of humor in his work. She told me it drove her nuts that she would work all day and come home to find he had done little other than diddle around all day. Sometimes trying to get a cloud just right, sometimes moving things around in his studio.
Which brings me to another sure sign the creative process is at work—getting ready. These rituals are part procrastination and part clearing pencil sharpenings, the clearing of the top of the desk, the sweeping of the floor of the studio.
Some artists seem to be able to work at home in any kind of mess, but I find they are rare; distraction is the enemy of the creative process. Just ask anyone who has found that perfect turn of phrase only to be interrupted by a phone call before it is committed to paper or computer–lost forever.
I believe everyone has creative energy to burn in this life, and that energy will find a way out. Think of those prairie women, making quilts from scraps, raising flowers outside their sod houses and baking with the most basic ingredients.
One of my favorite examples of creativity from nearly nothing is from New Mexico. There is a Pueblo dessert called sopa, a wonderful bread pudding made from leftover bread made in the outdoor ovens called hornos, pinon nuts (plentiful in the area), cheese and sugar. Cheese and sugar are two of the standard government commodities distributed to tribes. Some creative Pueblo woman put these things together at a time when she probably had little else.
We are certainly not the only species to create or to make beautiful things–consider spider webs or bird’s nests. But we are the only species to be aware of our creations, and to judge them.
Which brings me to my final point: I don’t know of a single artist who does not create a lot of trash on the way to a masterpiece. Confident artists see it all as part of the process, but many find it difficult to rise above the judgements.
The main thing is to be willing to engage in the process, whatever it is. It also helps to recognize the creativity in that wonderful Christmas dinner, the time we spend getting packages and decorations “just right” and the other expressions of love and care for our families—including carrying those babies to term.
Nov. 17, 2001