Creating With Limits: Part Two

I blogged a few days ago about how awesome self-imposed limits can be when it comes to creativity.  So what happens when the limits aren't self-imposed?  It's one thing to choose to work with 1" square pieces of paper; it's another thing entirely to be forced to work with 1" squares because it's all we've got.

The limit can be money, or time, or space, or materials.   No money to buy any good brushes.  Only ten minutes a day to make stuff.  My "studio" is a folding table my bedroom. Can't find the shade of blue I always use.



Last year, to deal with chronic health problems, I was given some limits regarding what I could eat:

No gluten.
No grains - yeah, no corn, no oats.
No dairy.
No soy.
No processed sugar and minimal natural sugars.
No legumes, no beans, no peanuts.
No oils from processed grains or grasses - canola, safflower, out.
Minimal alcohol and caffeine.

What did that leave?

Nuts and seeds.
Fruits and vegetables.
Oils from fruits and nuts (olive oil, coconut oil)
Lean, unprocessed meat.
Eggs.
Spices.
Water.
Herbal tea.

Oh yeah.  I put up a fuss.  And then . . . something shifted.

It started to be fun.  I was exploring books on eating Paleo, searching grain-free recipes on line, finding ways to eat more vegetables, adapting recipes, using my food processor like a madwoman, discovering new Portland restaurants with me-friendly menus . . . in short, I took on cooking and eating as a creative challenge.

Most of my creative energy last year went into learning how to cook - and eat - all over again. And yeah, my health is better now.  I still have chronic challenges with fatigue, but the symptoms are way more manageable now and I've identified and cut out a lot of the things that triggered the problems in the first place.  Generally, I've even been able to stick with it.

I don't share this because I'm looking for dietary solutions and health fixes (there are plenty of other folks blogging about that!).  

I share this story because it proved to me that it really is possible to re-frame the limits not as excuses, but as questions, questions that lead to creative thinking.  The limits - whether they're self-imposed or thrust upon us by necessity - can serve as a starting point rather than a stop sign.

Consider any of the limits that keep you from creating or making art - how might you change those limits into a question that challenges your creativity instead?

Creating With Limits: Part One

I taught a collage class on February 24th, and I was really struck by one thing:  Unlimited options can be utterly overwhelming.  When you can do anything, what do you do?  When you can go anywhere, what direction do you start moving in?

Sometimes, stepping into my own studio is overwhelming.  I have tools and materials to do jewelry-making, found-object sculpture, acrylic painting, encaustic painting, printmaking, sewing and more.  In many ways, my studio is a mixed media artist's fairytale wonderland, full of options. I have had plenty of times in my life when I felt restricted by external limitations, and my current studio certainly reflects that.

But having a studio like this doesn't mean it's always easier to make things.  

Sometimes, I sit out here and surf Facebook on my phone.  Because there are just too many possibilities.

"Those whom the Gods wish to destroy, they give unlimited resources."   -Twyla Tharp

Artmaking is all about making decisions, hundreds of tiny decisions that add up to a solution to one of the world's most vague and poorly defined problems:  "In what ways might I meaningfully fill this empty space?"

Sometimes, I need limits.  

I need a structure.  I need a place to start, something to narrow down the problem a bit and knock it down to a manageable size. 

Putting limits on an artist usually sounds like a bad thing.  And yet history is full of artists using self-imposed limits to push their creativity:  The haiku.  Mondrian's use of a limited palette and straight lines during the 20's and 30's. Even Rodin's focus on the human form in sculpture and Shakespeare's endless sonnets. 

As I rebuild my own creative practice, one of the things I've been doing is giving myself some limits.  A favorite?  The square paper punch.  I punch squares out of scrap paper, out of junk mail, out of magazines and catalogs and the bits of paper that my students toss in the recycling bin.  And then I arrange the squares and glue them down, almost like paper quilts. I've been doing it for about a year, and I find it to be amazingly creatively satisfying.

I'm the one deciding whether or not to accept the limitations, and that makes all the difference.

The Root Chakra

I starting taking an 8-month Creativity and the Chakras workshop with my friend, Jill Kelly.  We take on a project during the 8 months - mine is build a sustainable creative practice.  As part of the workshop (sort of an assignment for myself), I'm doing a collage or piece of artwork for each chakra.  That's the root chakra collage I did last month - full of food and nourishment, roots and bones, earth and family, heritage and home.

(If you're wondering what the heck a "chakra" is, it's essentially an energy center in the body which is associated with various emotional, physical, and spiritual attributes.  The wikipedia article is a bit overwhelming, but gives you a bit of an idea of what we're talking about here.)

The root chakra is located at the base of the spine or perineum, and is your connection to the material world and the physical body you inhabit. It is associated with the color red, survival, security, courage, family, heritage, fight or flight instincts, roots, bones, self-preservation and earth.  You get the idea.  

Here's the first root chakra collage I did, back in 2009, as part of preparing for a chakra collage class I taught.  It's a lot more food and nourishment and grounding energy (see the shoes??) than the other one.  

 

You might think that after doing one collage for each chakra I'd be done.  But I'm not.  You can see the similarities, the differences . . . each time I explore the theme, I get something different out of it.  The 2013 collage has more roots, more bones, and more of my own painting and drawing. 

Though apparently, no matter where I go, there's a bird.

Collage and other "Not Really Creative" Creative Practices

I'm slowly trying to find my way back into a creative practice.  There's been some drawing, there's been some encaustic work, but most consistently, there's been morning journaling and there's been collage.  

I've been adding drawing, adding paint, but collage - cutting and gluing bits of found imagery - is an easy place for me to start.  I can do it in front of the TV in a total no-pressure way.  I can move pieces of cut up paper around first thing in the morning before I'm really awake.  I can take two minutes and glue something down as I walk by. 

I realize, too, that for the last twenty years or more, collage has been my default. When in doubt, I piece things together.  I find connections between disparate things.  I cut and glue. 

And I haven't given collage a lot of credit.*  I've tended to dismiss it as "not really creative." After all, I'm just taking someone else's images and rearranging them. But seeing those connections is actually an essential creative act for me.   

Just like journaling, which is something I've done since I was a teen but never really considered valuable.  Or even cooking.  After all, the final products are rarely impressive or - wait for it - saleable. 

So I'm curious: Are there any essential creative acts - things that sustain you, that have the potential to form the basis of a creative practice - that you tend to dismiss as "not really creative" simply because the product isn't "impressive"?  

I'm reminding you - just like I'm reminding myself -  a satisfying creative practice is built on a foundation of consistent creative action, not on a foundation of impressive final products. 

*(For those of you who are wondering about this, yes, I have written a whole book about how creative and valuable things like collage and journaling are - but that doesn't mean I don't need reminding, that I don't still struggle with seeing them as valuable.  I do. I still fight those inner voices.)  

Working with Bones

I was in the studio today, actually working.  Amazing to get my hands in the wax again! 

I've been working with bones, making molds of different bones I have in my collection, then casting them in paperclay.  These are embedded in encaustic with bits of collage.  I'm sure where it's going, or if it's done yet.  It's just good to be moving!