creative combustion points

Now that Stranger Things has wrapped and we caught up for the finale, at J's behest, we've been watching Slings & Arrows nightly, which was a show that escaped my radar in the early aughts when it was on, but is proving to be quite enjoyable. It's basically about a group of creatives and corporate folks who run a an ongoing yearly drama festival. Last night, a scene in the midst of much-beleaguered Hamlet rehearsals when the Hollywood actor chosen for the main role finally clicks into his role and the director experiences that strange, swirly and exhilarating creative moment when everything else comes together, the set costumes, the set, the lights, and you can see it from a creative distance and full scope. This is especially fascinating for theater as and art form, because it feels very different, yet very much the same when I am working on creative projects.  There is always that moment you are looking for. The sparkle. The settle. 

With poems, sometimes it never comes at all. Or it can come with a first or second line. Sometimes its the second or third poem you write in any given series or manuscript. Or maybe after a long and arduous revision process. Sometimes, its just the single poem that makes your vision for a project become clearer and more intentional.  I've found myself, especially when in the practice of writing daily, just getting the words on the page composing a single piece of something (sometimes all I have time for if the day is busy with freelance or press work. ) For these slower projects, which start sort of broad, sometimes a poem written a few days or a week later, gets me feeling like I am moving in the right direction. Suddenly, I know where I am going (if not exactly how to get there, but that's a post for another day. ) Sort of like if you're building a house and you've scene drawings and raw materials and semi-assembled bits but the whole thing comes together in your mind. 

With art, it usually works on a slightly smaller scale for me.  I might save and collect a bunch of things, either as inspirations or materials (clipped people, scenic landscapes, patterning bits) and then play around with them (either digitally or analog).  Within a single collage, I might create some small corner and it, in turns, determines the direction of the whole piece. Or I might make two collages and its the third one that makes me go back and redo the other two to have them all gel together. 

It may even be something that is not specifically related to art or writing at all.  When I was planning our casual wedding last spring, it took a few weeks, once we had the venue, to really envision what I wanted in terms of paper, decorations, menu, etc. It was a vision that was perhaps a little impaired and then briskly revised with the venue change, but it felt like I creative project as things came together. Or it might be an outfit you wear with different elements. Or some sense of personal style. Any kind of party or event. Or maybe even in how you decorate your home--like the perfect paint color or an an antique that makes everything else make sense in a way it didn't before.    

Whatever that element or definable moment feels like the moment the entire vision catches flame. Or maybe the support beam that holds everything up. Or the container that holds everything in.  Perhaps even the glue that fixes a whole bunch of swirling and loose elements in place. It can feel a little magical and maybe that's the reason we are driven to create--beyond audiences and critics and how others respond to work. 

Previous