There’s something that catalyzes the creative half of my brain when I can tangibly experience the analog process of creativity. No screen. No music. No show in the background. No entertainment aside from the silence of my own ability to create. And last night, no experience.
Last night, the tangibility was the sticky oil of the pastels between my fingers, rubbing off on my palms, my nose, the doorknob as I left the room. With pastels, color becomes an invasive species. Pastel was a foreign & in that moment spontaneous medium for me, so I had far fewer limitations of experience. So something foreign came out of my fingers.
Today, I’m buzzing with inspiration. My brain is reminded that there are caverns she hasn’t yet explored within herself. Things can come out of my fingers I didn’t know existed before. Perhaps they didn’t, even. It’s wild. We think we need to be inspired in order to create, but perhaps creativity begets inspiration. Perhaps limitation inspires creation. So that’s it – we need less. Perhaps when creativity recedes it’s because we have too much of everything. And now that I think of it, I’ve only ever heard the remark, “I guess we’re gonna have to get creative,” in situations of scant resources.
In his book Steal Like an Artist, Austin Kleon tells me to paint using one color. To limit my resources and perhaps the time I give myself to create, and see what happens. He talks about how when Paul McCartney got stuck creatively, he’d find an entirely foreign instrument and write a song using it.
If I’m told to make a dinner and presented with the choice of two resources: either (1) a kitchen stocked with everything I could need to make 500 elaborate feasts, OR (2) a table with only a few materials to make a simple meal, I’d choose option 2.
Last night I discovered that pastels might be my gateway drug back into creating. A few months ago I bought everything I needed to start painting again and, since I’ve been unable to figure out how to jumpstart the creative process, the materials have sat collecting dust in my bedroom.
So I’ll start again, this time with pastels. Perhaps only primary colors. Maybe even a timer.
Devin Leigh Snyder 