Every time I turn around someone’s got her nose in Marie Kondo’s international bestseller book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up or they’re doodling zentangles. I’ve mixed both into one potent creative cocktail, an elixir for dismissing what The Artist’s Way author Julia Cameron refers to as the inner Censor.
First, the book: Not surprisingly, a quick poll among some of my artist friends reveals they do not see any wackiness in connecting feeling with an object or material, nor this seemingly illogical approach to letting go (which involves thanking those objects for their service). Those dedicated to their creative field know the importance of clearing the way to allow for the flow of new forms of expression.
Same goes for doodling. Despite what we may be told in high school or in the boardroom, doodling is a way to discard the mind-clutter and engage the senses. It helps me sharpen my thinking and reduce the fear of the blank page or canvas. The line is a path that shows me the way.
But allowing myself to take the time to ask myself if a handbag sparks joy or to fill a page with a doily-doodle does require a leap of faith in the unknown, and that’s where The Artist’s Way comes in.
I’ve been faithfully (although at first skeptically) following the assignments in each chapter with an artist friend over the past several months but it’s taken me up to week 8 of the 12-week ‘course’ to stop fighting the notion that creativity comes from a Higher Power. I reflexively recoil over any god talk yet I am finally seeing that we are merely the vehicles, the messengers, the conduits in creative expression. Part of this acceptance comes from the repeated scene I witnessed in art school when someone in class would inevitably rebel (‘Screw this crit; I’ll do what I want!’) and suddenly experience a turning point in their emerging art practice.
Only when I truly give it all up do I find some astonishing, surprising outcomes. It’s enough to keep on keeping on in the tidying and the doodling and stop asking how it could possibly be related to my recent accomplishments.
Can’t write anymore now; gotta go thank my pants.
Same goes for doodling. Despite what we may be told in high school or in the boardroom, doodling is a way to discard the mind-clutter and engage the senses. It helps me sharpen my thinking and reduce the fear of the blank page or canvas. The line is a path that shows me the way.
But allowing myself to take the time to ask myself if a handbag sparks joy or to fill a page with a doily-doodle does require a leap of faith in the unknown, and that’s where The Artist’s Way comes in.
I’ve been faithfully (although at first skeptically) following the assignments in each chapter with an artist friend over the past several months but it’s taken me up to week 8 of the 12-week ‘course’ to stop fighting the notion that creativity comes from a Higher Power. I reflexively recoil over any god talk yet I am finally seeing that we are merely the vehicles, the messengers, the conduits in creative expression. Part of this acceptance comes from the repeated scene I witnessed in art school when someone in class would inevitably rebel (‘Screw this crit; I’ll do what I want!’) and suddenly experience a turning point in their emerging art practice.
Only when I truly give it all up do I find some astonishing, surprising outcomes. It’s enough to keep on keeping on in the tidying and the doodling and stop asking how it could possibly be related to my recent accomplishments.
Can’t write anymore now; gotta go thank my pants.
A Mercedes-Benz ad image says a thousand words on the right-brain, left-brain divide.
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