CreativeSpace

A crash course into watercolor

Last Saturday I did the craziest thing. I took a crash course in watercolor. Learning to paint (officially) with watercolors has been something that I’ve wished to do for years, but I always put it off with the idea of “some day.”

I used to watercolor a lot when I was little, usually sans clothing, with my bare butt seated on the bottom step of a kitchen step-stool and my paints and paper resting on the top step. I spent hours there, and I cherished that feeling of fascination and wonder as I dabbed my brush into the brilliant square of paint and then onto the paper. The beauty, and frustration, of watercolor was that there were a million variations of color depending on the amount of paint I used with the amount of water.

The night before my six-hour class, I had a fit of nerves. I fantasized about canceling. Maybe I’d come down with the stomach flu. Maybe the teacher would. Maybe I’d fall victim to a spontaneous crippling disease that would make the use of my right hand impossible. The bottom line was that I was afraid; afraid that I would have no talent, that my teacher would deem me unreachable, that I’d be so hopelessly clueless that I’d be laughed out of the studio. I know it sounds ridiculous, but that’s how I felt. The anxiety was the result of my inner critic. Now don’t pretend that you don’t have one. We ALL do.

Our inner critics keep us from doing truly stupid things, like robbing a bank. They also mire us in fears that prohibit us from following our passions. So you want to unearth your sketch pad and pencils? Your inner critic tells you that you have no talent for drawing, so you tell yourself that you’ll sketch when you have more time. Or you’re inspired to learn how to play the flute, but your inner critic whispers that you’re too old to learn something as complicated as a new instrument which effectively keeps you from ever darkening the door of the music store. 

Thanks to The Artist’s Way I learned to identify, and even draw, my inner critic and to learn when his advice was useful (I won’t ever build a bomb) and when to work past it. My mom called it “feel the fear and do it anyway.” And that’s what I did.

If I had any doubts about the synchronicity of the universe, they were dispelled when I met my teacher, Lisa. The first thing she said to us was, “thank you for ignoring your inner critic and showing up today.” I wanted to throw my arms around her and plant a big smackeroo on her cheek. I couldn't imagine a better way to begin an introduction. As it turned out, she taught a study course on The Artist’s Way to boot.

All of this was terribly helpful as she maneuvered us through the syllabus of the class. She kept a fast pace on purpose to prevent us from stopping and obsessing about our imperfect painting skills. She encouraged our mistakes, reminding us that only the act of putting paint to paper would make us better. At one point she pointed at my landscape and said, “I know you think that’s a mistake, but I love it.”

I can’t adequately express the joy I felt painting. There was the treasured reconnection with an old part of myself that I had almost forgotten and the excitement of learning something new. And the awe of creation…I surely won’t forget that. I am by no means a good watercolorist, but I loved every minute of it anyway.

To ensure that I will never be bored again

The Sketchbook Project

Finding a moment

I must confess that I did a good deal of grumbling these past two days, mostly regarding my ever-increasing To Do List and my decreasing spare time. TIME FOR ME! See, that's how I was feeling, like all my inner statements were written in bold and in caps. It was all shouty and loud internally, and externally, my family was wondering what on earth had made me so grumpy. Even Little Bear was giving me the hairy eyeball. Luckily for everyone involved, I took advantage of Little Bear's nap this afternoon to read the second chapter of The Artist's Way, Recovering a Sense of Identity.

Holy synchronicity of the universe, Batman! Ms. Cameron might as well have entitled it: This Is Your LIfe, Amy. In the second paragraph she writes, "As we gain strength, so will some of the attacks of self-doubt." Suddenly it became terribly obvious. My doubts and my fears about this process (given my Type-A tendencies, it is horribly difficult for me to trust a process that doesn't map out step-by-step exactly what is going to happen) were manifesting into a massive case of irritation with the details of my daily life. And then I read this:  "We want to set aside time for our creative work, but we feel we should do something else instead. As blocked creatives, we focus not on our responsibilities to ourselves, but on our responsibilities to others." (Oh shut up, Julia! What do you know anyway, you smarty-pants.)

Here I was trudging around with my crown, claiming the title of the Queen of Should. I felt frustrated with my lack of time for my creative work, but instead of dealing with the heart of the problem, I dove into my To Do's. To Do's help run my life, but they don't necessarily feed my creative soul. As I continued to read, it occurred to me that just because I can no longer sit at my computer and write for hours on end, it doesn't mean that I can't find creative fulfillment in the moments I snatch for myself throughout the day. Like examining the deep burgundy spines of a sea urchin at the aquarium or the layers of florescent pink that bleed into green on the scalloped edges of an anemone. Relishing the weight of my child as I hold her in my arms and soaking in the soft light as it streams through my bedroom window. The nubby texture of the brick against my palm and the expression on the cherub's face. The attention I give to the details of this beautiful life are what connect me to others, to the world, and to my Creator. 

Ms. Cameron teaches that changes don't have to be large to be effective. As we open ourselves to creativity, gentle but powerful changes are to be expected. As one of this week's assignments, she asks us to make a list of things we'd like to do, big and small, and then do two of them. We must look for windows of time and use them in small creative acts. I've been dreaming of blueberry pie, so I'm going to bake one despite my fear of pie crust. It seems a purely decadent thing to do since The Husband doesn't care for blueberries, but I bought the blueberries anyway at the farmer's market. (Just call me bold and reckless.) 

As for the second thing, well...maybe I'll knit a hat? Stay tuned and see.

"To know what you prefer instead of humbly saying Amen to what the world tells you you ought to prefer, is to have kept your soul alive."  ~Robert Louis Stevenson

No one mentioned the panic

Sunday began our first week as a Creative Cluster , and our assignment is the first chapter of The Artist’s Way. The author, Julia Cameron, has exercises to do at the end of every chapter. She also urges us to spend two hours a week making an Artist Date with ourselves to encourage our inner artist to come out and play. The outing could be anything from visiting a museum or going to the drug store around the corner and buying bubbles. The most crucial part of our twelve week study, however, is our Morning Pages.

Ms. Cameron asks us to wake up an hour earlier than usual to write three pages of whatever pops into our mind. We’re not supposed to think about the quality of them. We’re just supposed to dive in and write down words on paper. That’s the only criteria, and it gives me a lot of leeway. It’s also hard as blazes since I’m always considering my words before committing them to paper. I often find myself stalling out, and my pages may include the schedule for the day, or my worry about the geraniums on the front porch (they perished in the sauna of southern Virginia), and it could be about laundry. (Yes, I might have mentioned something about the last load. Or two.)

The point of the exercise is to get past our “logic mind” and into a freeform creative place. Ms. Cameron also says that if we’re facing a problem, write it down and ask for an answer. That if we dig deep enough, we will discover our own deep wisdom and a connection to the Great Creator.

Wow. That seems like a tall order for 6:00 a.m.

It’s suggested that if our week of study runs from Sunday to Sunday that we read the chapter Sunday night, work on the exercises/morning pages/artist date throughout the week, and then do a check-in on Saturday to see what we liked and didn’t like. (And what we did and didn’t do.) I spent Sunday night reading the introduction and general instructions. This is my second time through the course, but I have a confession. I didn’t finish it the first time.

Did I forget to mention that before? Sorry for the oversight. I think I forgot that little detail on purpose. It wasn’t until I cracked the book again that it all came rushing back to me. I had made notes in the margins the first time around and had highlighted the passages that seemed particularly important. Re-reading them showed me how far I had progressed, but it also exposed the things that I am still grappling with currently. And it brought up all those questions that I hate asking myself: Why did I quit with only two chapters to go? What was I so afraid of that I derailed the project? (It was at this point that I thought I could quite cheerfully close the book, place it back on the shelf, and then pretend to lose it when we finally move.)

Ms. Cameron is much nicer about my quitting than I am. In fact, she has a term for my jumping off the creative ship, a “creative U-turn.” She is so gentle about it yet matter-of-fact that I feel almost no shame returning to the fold and doing the course again. The point is to leave my ego at the door and work towards a more connected and creative life.

My favorite saying of hers so far?  “Leap, and the net will appear.”

It sounds like it should be a candy but it ain't

When I first heard the term "creative cluster" I immediately thought of candy. Something like peanuts smothered in chocolate. Or praline chunks covered in chocolate. You get the picture, something in a tasty cluster involving chocolate. Because in my perfect world, there's not much that doesn't need to be covered in chocolate.

(On a side note, I think there is an inherited gene for chocoholism. Seriously. My brother, father, and I were together this past weekend and out of a house full of guests, it was the three of us who consistently reached for the gallon of chocolate milk. We even drank some with our eggs in the morning. Not that there is a problem with this. We have it under control, I assure you.) 

It turns out that a creative cluster is really a group of people who get together to tackle creative projects in a supportive way. (And I'm certain that if I brought chocolate to one of our meetings, there would be no complaint.) The creative cluster that I joined involves working on The Artist's Way over the course of twelve weeks. If you're not familiar with the course, it's a self-directed study of working through creative blocks and exploring creative outlets. The point of doing it as part of a group is for accountability, support, and creative energy.

The women in this group use different mediums for their creativity, and we all have different goals for the course. During our first meeting last night we discovered that despite these differences, some of us are grappling with the similar blocks. I felt energized listening to this gifted group, especially when we brainstormed about making a final presentation of the work we did through the course or even working on a group project. ( I think there's a frustrated art major lurking somewhere inside me.)

I can't wait to see what crops up (creatively) during these upcoming weeks of study. I intend to make changes for the better, and I'll be certain to share what I make along the way. Let the adventure begin!