Enveloped by Creativity

By Wendy Lee

July 8, 2017

The scene was captivating.  My eyes walked around the picture, noticing every detail, from the shadows cast by the chain link fence to the curious slant of the roof to the dirt on the windows to the tumbleweeds in motion in the foreground.  Everything was painfully still except for the blur of the tumbleweeds.  It was an ordinary scene.  An abandoned house in the desert.  Yet the artist had encapsulated both its sadness and its charm.  There was a unique artistry that produced such a brilliant work.

Through her art, I saw life through her eyes.  It was a stunning perspective.

Creativity is the backdrop of my life.  Not my creativity, of course, but that of my friends and family.  They are an enormous army of imaginative force, the likes of which has probably always been there but I am only truly awake to now.

I feel rather an infant in finding my creativity, or perhaps a caterpillar.  I am absorbing all of the energy around me, learning, morphing, and getting ready to burst into the world.  First, though, I must lose my fear.

I have been giving a lot of thought to creativity lately, but the definition seems nebulous at best.  Meshing the definition from some of the most popular dictionaries, an official definition might be something like:  using your imagination and original ideas to create something, especially an artistic work.  Then you get into the slippery slope of defining an artistic work.  Art can be an expression of creativity that often takes a visual form.  It is judged on beauty or its impact on emotions.

Does that truly define creativity?

Yes and no.  It goes beyond that, I think.  I think creativity involves creating something that is uniquely and genuinely you, and can be a visual expression, interpretation, written work, spoken word, dance, music, play, object, etc.  At its core, it involves an authentic expression of you.

I love how Elizabeth Gilbert describes a creative life in Big Magic:

“A creative life is an amplified life.  It’s a bigger life, a happier life, an expanded life, and a hell of a lot more interesting life.  Living in this manner—continually and stubbornly bringing forth the jewels that are hidden within you—is a fine art, in and of itself.”

I have seen this creative life demonstrated by many friends and family.

Some play music beautifully.  How did I get to know so many musicians?  I know drummers, loads as a matter of fact.  I know guitarists and bassists and keyboardists and saxophonists and cellists.  Playing music is their creative outlet, and whether they are playing someone else’s work or their own, the music that comes from their instruments is brought to life solely by them.

I have friends, many, who are amazing photographers.  They make exquisite art, and capture aspects that allow us to see through their eyes.  Some images are of exacting detail, while others are quite abstract.

Ten photographers can take photos of the same scene, and create images that all look completely different.  Why?  Because they are expressing their own imagination and viewpoint. Original.

I know several friends who paint as their outlet.  They create life on canvas.

I know people whose genius appears in the kitchen, where they create their masterpieces, my son-in-law for example.  His dishes are divine because he works the ingredients like graceful paintings.  I almost feel guilty devouring them.  Almost.

I know people who build things from scratch.  My daughter is one of those.  She can look at a palette (the shipping kind) and envision a table or shelf, and then make it.  She is the only one she knows who was sent to college with a set of tools, and she uses those tools to build things she sees in her imagination.

I know dancers who create art with their bodies and movement.  I know authors who are master storytellers.  I know playwrights who take a plot and turn it into action.

I know people who produce art using a variety of media, who construct videos and movies, who curate museums for visual effect, who create interpretive tours, etc.

My mother is in her mid-80’s and she is still making quilts.  She embroiders magnificent details on cloth squares that she then incorporates into her exquisite quilts.  I know several quilters.

Most of this body of creative genius only create as meaningful outlets for themselves, and not to earn a living.  I believe that allows for some of the purest form of expression.  If you can make a little money with your art, you are fortunate.  Never, though, let earning money be the driver for it will drive your inspiration right off the bridge.

If your art makes your heart sing out in song, you must keep making it.

Creativity allows you to leave a mark of your authentic self on the world.  Nobody has to like it or get it, but it genuinely represents you.

As I think of my friend’s poignant photograph, I am struck with joy that her art has evoked such thought.  Not only did I see details through her own vision, I am fascinated by how it has caused me to imagine my own relationship with expression.  I am sure she never intended that, but we never quite know what will move someone else, or even ourselves.

Perhaps that is how my own creative life has taken its twists and turns.

I have a creative spirit, yet only when I allow myself permission and when I am feeling uncharacteristically confident.

My confidence waxes and wanes like the moon, but it does a hell of a lot more waning than waxing.  I am trying to lasso my confidence and keep it bounded to my heart.

Long ago, I used the camera to express my special perspective.  I favored unique shots of architecture and form that would mostly go unnoticed in the everyday world.  I even had many of my photographs turned into large prints that I framed and hung on my walls as actual art.  Who was that brave person who dared to think her work was good enough to display on the wall?  I miss her.

Somewhere along the way, I lost my confidence and some of my vision.  Literally.  My eyesight continued to deteriorate making photography more difficult.  Then Photoshop and cell phone cameras came along, and I felt a bit out of touch with modern photography.  The circumstances, though, were more of an excuse.  My confidence simply waned.

Every once in a while, though, I will pull out my Canon and go on a little day trip.  Looking through the lens, I can still see the world through my distinct interpretation.  I get a little thrill out of composing that one shot that recalls not just the scene, but the feelings of that day and time.

My creative expression has now moved to words and emotions and stories that create connections.  It may be sloppy, sometimes personal, and occasionally weird.  But I have stories to tell that leave little pieces of me all over this world.

It takes a whole heap of courage to share my writing, my life, my stories, and my feelings.  After spending so many years as a guarded soul, I now feel that if I don’t let my stories and emotions pour out onto the page, I shall go mad.

All of this thought was provoked by one exquisite artwork.

I wonder what your creativity will provoke?