đLivingđ¨Creatively đ¸
& Releasing Capitalist Standards
Creativity is an essential part of our life. It has existed in every culture, in every lifetime. Even in the era of Neandrathals, art was an avid practice. Even in cultures ridden with strife and war, art is engaged in protest, in solidarity, in expression of pain. Maslowâs Hierarchy of Needs (a model stolen and appropriated from the Blackfoot peoples) has creativity positioned at the top of the hierarchy in self-actualization, known as the fulfillment of oneâs potential. This is not an accurate reflection of creativityâs influence (nor of the original Blackfoot philosophy), for creativity is a lifeline in suffering, a mirror reflecting our Inner Life.Â
Creativity has no purpose other than for pleasure so it is relegated as âunnecessaryâ by systems. Creativity is looked down upon as a mere hobby or not taken seriously, seen as a silly endeavour.
But silliness creates space for Insight. We need Space for Insight. Insight happens when we have Space. I have the most insight when I am washing the dishes or in the shower or driving or just before bed because my mind is still. I am fully present.
Capitalism purposefully micromanages our time and creates internalized shame for using our time for anything but for productivity. This is on purpose because with Insight, we can envision a new way, a new world. If we are constantly exhausted and just getting by, we have to space to dream. Creativity is a revolution.
Creativity is not necessarily creating something that has never existed; originality is not synonymous with creativity. We are often inspired by other peoples' works before fully developing our own style. It is important to honour this phase as part of the artistic practice, to allow yourself to be inspired and follow where that inspiration takes you. It takes time, space and patience to develop your own style so experiment with what you are attracted to, what colours move you, what techniques come most naturally. There can be a pressure in creativity to birth exquisite, profound art. While this is noble, it is not the Purpose of art.
Art is meant to be enjoyed, to be pleasurable, to be play.
We are all creative. Our creativity is not always aesthetically pleasing and there are always people who are more technically proficient, but these are mutually exclusive measurements from creativity itself. We need to have an outlet for our creativity, or the creative energy becomes stagnant. If creativity was not valued in your family of origin, you likely channelled your creativity into other areas, such as sports or cooking, or distanced yourself from these impulses entirely.
If you want support in exploring your creativity, here are guided art therapy prompts to give you support to express yourself
Creativity is like a plant; when it is in a big enough pot, it will grow exponentially. Notice where your creativity has been channelled, or if it has been repressed. How would your like your creative life to be shaped?Â
Creativity becomes unbalanced when we are so focused on the physical world: paying bills, going to work, stuck in our routine. Creativity requires space for flexible thinking and space to engage the imagination. When are tunnel-visioned and stuck in the rut of the âouter worldâ, we tend to ignore the callings of our inner world. Creativity becomes unbalanced when we allot scheduled time, such as 30 minutes, expecting the Muse to visit us within that short timeframe. Creativity requires space for Flow to take over, we should become engrossed in our creativity. Flow is the experience of losing track of time and space and is where our intuition brings forward our imagination. Creativity is a powerful avenue to express our inner-most experiencesÂ
To engage with your inner creativity, start by setting aside time. Have 2-4 hours open for you to engage your creativity. Tapping into our imaginative potential takes time to build, much like engaging in foreplay culminates to orgasm. Follow your intuition and allow yourself to Play. Draw circles or spirals, dance to music, shape Play-Doh. Participate in creative activities with no end goal, just for fun.
She started painting in kindergarten. She loved painting whales and she would completely hog the painting station in her afternoon class. She had a *difficult time with the colour wheel and some of her whales turned out brown, but she loved those brown whales. Every day she came home with a stack of the dayâs artwork. One auspicious day, she was home a bit early from kindergarten class, carefully escorted home by her sibling in exchange for a dime. She saw her mother leaving the house with a huge pile of her paintings. Her mother said she was putting on an art gallery for her. But that didnât happen. She was actually on the way to the trash with all of her paintings. I painted a lot and now as an adult, she would never expect her mother to keep every painting she ever created, but it stung nonetheless. Her child self internalized the belief that painting took up too much space, that there wasnât enough room for my creations. Still, creativity oozed out of her and to her motherâs credit, she did nurture her artistic side. She turned to writing instead of painting (after she acquired the necessary skills) and found a more enclosed container for her creativity within the confines of journals.Â
She didnât paint again until the therapy room. Her dissociation and anxiety were so strong that her therapist suggested she doodle with oil pastels during the session to keep her grounded. It was the single best suggestion a therapist has ever made for her and created a path to healing that wouldnât have been possible. Creating during the session kept her hands busy, her anxiety at bay and it allowed her to share more deeply. It was as if the pages of colour and smudges were a conduit for her pain. Seeing her inner experience appear magically in front of her, she was able to be part of her own narrative as the story was being told.
Art, in this way, became both a static reflection of my pain and a mutable alchemy in which I found a truer Self reflected back by the end of each session. Art is the beacon that showed her the potential energy within.
Art, in this way, is not âarts and craftsâ. It is a confrontation with the depths of our being with paintbrushes.
Everyone is creative, without question. Aesthetics for art should not even a consideration. It can take time to undo the self-judgment and experience true, intuitive release but when once you find your way through the gate of artistic freedom, beauty was created.
In an art therapy program I ran for many years, many tears were shed. The end of every session, clients could share about what their piece meant for them and that was my favourite. Observations from others, never interpretations, were allowed from the group. We would notice the person used only cool colours or that the brush strokes appeared staccato. But the piece was the Creators. I still shed tears looking at the photos we would take of their creations. Their inner world, here on the canvas. With such bravery.Â
I loved facilitating these art sessions because I could see how much insight and wisdom the clients held within their own creative Bodies. I felt so honoured to witness their process. I participated alongside my clients every week too. I shared my own pieces, my own inner landscape so we could mutually witness each other. Those hour-long sessions every week were the only art I did during that time. I think part of me knew that unless I made art part of my job, I wouldnât prioritize it. Workaholism is the addiction of myself and my family. We are afflicted by it. I knew that art could be healing for the people I was so lucky to work with, and I knew I had to make space for art in my own life.
In these sessions, we never used good quality material. The paints, brushes and canvases were all from the dollar store. Itâs not that the participants werenât worth the best (they were) but when I tried incorporating better quality materials, participants hesitated more. They didnât want to waste anything. There was pressure to use it for deeply profound and artistically exquisite work. Aesthetics arenât the focus in the session because you donât need to earn your art by being âgoodâ. You are already good. And you donât need to earn goodness.
We experience creative blocks because we have learned we cannot be vulnerable. It is not about aesthetics - it is about vulnerability and expression. I was robbed of so many years of painting because perfectionism, procrastination and fear were trying to protect me from shame. From failure. And instead, these blocks only kept me from witnessing the landscape of myself.Â
It can be so hard to start something you havenât yet mastered. Of course you havenât mastered it, you havenât started. Make bad art. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes by accident. Start a piece with no idea what youâre doing. Be terrified at the outcome. Remember the outcome is not important. You arenât doing this for the outcome.
Art fundamentally requires risk. We are not good right away and it is hard, in a performance driven society, to consciously choose to be bad at a thing. We need to undo the indoctrination that we will master a practice right away. Give yourself permission to be shitty. Creativity is inner child parenting. Be kind, be compassionate, be curious. I love doing art with children because theyâll draw a squiggly line and say itâs a magical cow that lives in a leaf. And you know what? It is.Â
Welcoming that fear has become part of my process. I donât know if this the same for every artist, but developing a relationship with fear has been completely paramount to my process. When I am not afraid in creating, my art is too safe and is not in contact with my Centre. My centre is deep and vast and the more cartography I complete of my inner landscape, the less terrifying it is, simply because I become more familiar with myself. But still, there is fear. For me, fear shows me that my work is translating my inner meaning, it is important.Â
When she was married, she painted the least. Her husband didnât understand the creative mind. He didnât comprehend âflowâ, when she would become encapsulated with a piece for hours. It was inconvenient for him. Art was a luxury to him, a leisurely hobby considered âunnecessaryâ in our budget. He saw art simply as a financial burden. There was no space for her art in their marriage. In many ways, their relationship was a rerun of her childhood wounds. He confirmed what had always been insinuated: there was no room for her. She didnât even have physical space for her art. She asked for a small corner of the garage, full of his activities, which he declined. Her healing work and her art were relegated to the same space and her art, which took up much more room, was stuffed into the closet. It remained in the closet until she would have inner volcanic eruptions that could only be contained on the canvas. She didnât even have an easel so she painted on the floor. She can still see the searing look of disappointment on his face when he realized that oil paint doesnât come out of carpet. She justified this because he had other interests and who was she to judge someone elseâsâ propensity? But he judged her. Â
She left her husband because she started painting again. There were so many reasons to always leave him but it wasnât until she invested in a two-day intuitive painting course that she started to see myself as a whole Being again. At first, she thought there was no point to pay for an intuitive course (what would they teach anyway?) but she knew that she wasnât painting at home and that dedicating the time to herself was what I needed.
After that, she stopped asking for permission and started prioritizing myself.
She painted at home. She did yoga in the living room, under the watchful eye of her dog. When she finally left him, she made sure new the house had enough space for herself. She set up an entire art studio in the basement of her new home. She bought a telescopic easel second hand and bought the next step up from dollar store paint. She bought huge canvases. She couldnât afford therapy anymore, so she painted. At first, she only painted for 20-minute stints. It was like as soon as I got close to my Centre, she put the brush down. She remembered the two full days of intuitive painting and slowly started painting for longer. She cried every time I painted. She threw coffee grounds at the canvas, speared skewers through the canvas and painted layers upon layers, until the canvas grew by inches.Â
Then she stopped painting for a while. Her basement got cold. She was focusing on yoga and it seemed that for a while, yoga and painting had switched places. She cried every time she got on her mat. She could feel her Centre as she sat with herself in different postures. She had to coach herself with compassion to stay on the mat for more than 20 minutes. To keep this space for herself. Whether she was on the mat or with paintbrush in hand, she always felt the Pull of something Else. She had always been able to project it beyond herself: her ex didnât understand my art, her mom didnât make space for my painting. But here, in this house by her Self, she still felt guilt subsume her creativity, at least for a little while. Werenât there better things she could be doing? Didnât her Tupperware cupboard need to be organized? Isnât there ârealâ work she could be doing? Who was she to take so much time for herself, with so many other things to be done.
It was when she realized that she was afraid to take more than 20 minutes for herself that she realized this was an artifact of indoctrination. She is not living her own life. She was the only one responsible for her art now and she wouldnât let it go. Â
Most creative blocks exist within our Selves, beliefs implanted from the oppressive systems in which we dwell. Capitalism demands our activities to be purposeful, to be successful is to make money. Even in our leisure. Our blocks are comprised of our excuses and attempts of distraction. Itâs like when weâre getting together with someone we donât exactly want to see, and we hope the other person will cancel. Except the other person is our Self. There are a million other things we can do but when we chose our Selves through creativity, it is a radical act of self-love. The realm of creativity is ripe for self-betrayal when we choose other people or other things over our creativity. What counts as creativity is up to you. For me, it is unapologetically taking up space. Not being told what to do. Extracting my inner experience onto a canvas or onto my body like a paleontologist finding artifacts in the sand.
In some ways, her ex-husband was right that art doesnât have a purpose. It doesnât. And it doesnât have to. Thatâs what is so beautiful about it. In a capitalist culture that commodifies everything, that distills everything we enjoy to have an explicit purpose, that how we engage with our Time has to financially âworthwhileâ, art without a purpose is a revolution.
Elizabeth Gilbertâs âBig Magicâ is in many ways a manual for creative living. The way she talked about her relationship to her creativity resonates so deep within me. She describes her creativity as a relationship, one that she is committed to supporting. Gilbert intentionally does not rely on her art to provide for her financially; on the contrary, she is determined to build her life to provide for her art. This was a huge relief to me, a Capricorn recovering workaholic, that my art could just be for its own purpose. I didnât have to commodify anything. I was able to relinquish pressure I was putting towards myself. My art doesnât have to do anything, I will always make space for it.
Since art doesnât produce anything that the system of capitalism sees as useful, it is relegated to the outskirts. Itâs partly why her mom carted my pile of paintings out of the house. They served no purpose. I love art because I donât make any money from it. Maybe one day I will but that wonât be a marker of success to me. It will simply be a new expression of my relationship to creativity. I do not want my art to serve capitalism so I will always protect it.Â
Our inner world is far more real than the outer illusion that keeps us moving at a breakneck pace. As I explored my inner world through art, it became alive and I learned how to inner dialogue. It was awkward and disjointed at first, but I practiced self-communication and I learned so much about myself. This dialogue expressed my inner experience without the filtration of my ego, it transcended my impulse to censor myself and allowed my Truth to speak for itself. The myth of Persephone has become my artistic mandate.Â
Persephone spends 6 months of the year as Queen of the Underworld and 6 months of the year as the Goddess of Spring. Both the under and upper world hold important tasks and she invests her time and presence in both. Art is much the same, there are dark times of chaos and hardship as we sweat through the inner murkiness and then we emerge into the light of spring with the birthed project. Art has natural ebbs and flows, natural seasonal cycles that we can grasp loosely, instead of trying to control. I have tried to schedule art time for myself and it has never worked for me. I will sit in front of my easel during the allotted slot in my calendar and nothing comes. I can hear my inner creativity gently, and sometimes not so gently, reminding me that slotting in my creativity is an attempt to control it, to harness it. For me, it doesnât work like that. Iâve seen this work for many people and their creativity is very happy to have a scheduled time to look forward to. Mine feels more like the earth swallowing me whole or being swept onto an unchartered island and I must relay every detail of this new earth before the sky fades away.Â
I often describe my creative process as akin to emotional childbirth: there is suffering, pain, chaos and labour to bring this new life into the world. A new life that has never before existed and one that I could never recreate again. I sit down to do my work, not everyday but I am committed to showing up and when I do, these powerful forces show me different kingdoms within myself, stroke by stroke.Â
When she started dating again, she started painting again. Her Body had a lot to say and the canvas was ready to listen.
She has always been an artist. From her brown kindergarten whales, to doodling her tears to painting bodies, she is a creator.
Taking time for myself to do creativity meant unlearning capitalistic ideals of time. Living in a workaholic family, weekends were for performing free work, for doing paperwork, for serving others. I can still remember the taste of one of my first restful weekends in my home. I did whatever I wanted. I felt so free and simultaneously apprehensive, the nagging feeling when you leave the curling iron on. I have named this Capitalist Guilt and everytime I pick up my paintbrush, I can feel revolution on the horizon. My art has no purpose and it doesnât need to. Offering space for my creative landscape to unfold is a gift to my younger self and a commitment to my future self that I will never forsake Her again. Creativity is not just putting pen to paper or brush to canvas, it is showing up for yourself, taking up space, communicating to yourself that you are worthy.Â
Why are you here? Why are you doing this work? For what is your creativity?