Losing Creativity

I was spending time with a dear friend last week and in the midst of our afternoon-long conversation she remarked "perhaps I'm just not creative anymore,"  in regards to career. (This friend, might I add, is a talented writer who has acted, directed, improvised, etc., I could sing praises of her creative self for days.)  This interaction made my brain respond by pulling in two separate directions: a triggered worry and reassurance. How fleeting is our creativity? Why must there be a sense of fear in regard to something that functions as a release? In contrast to my questions, I'm a firm believer that everyone is creative but recognize that it's a tool that requires utilization to access with ease. More on that later.

I'd be lying if I said I had never worried that my creativity would dry up, that one day I would wake up unable to produce an idea for something new to try, and the longer conversation between my friend and I certainly stirred that whispering voice in the back of my head. As an artist attached to a company with a regular performance schedule there's an additional sense of pressure that there always needs to be a next new idea. The truth is there doesn't always need to be an immediate next idea, that worry is entirely self-imposed, but I do feel it and the superficial need to keep the company relevant. Perhaps that's a ridiculous concept to acknowledge, constant production for the sake of production does seem to defeat the point of being an artist, but the point of a blog is to be candid for everyone's betterment and shared experience, right?

Why does worry surround art and creativity? Professional artists to creative hobbyists and all in between, everyone seems to be afflicted with at least a touch of stress, mainly when it comes to sharing one's art publicly. By worrying about how what we make is received I think that we are losing the point of making. Considering if masses will love or hate what we put into the world obscures the major fact that by putting something into the world we are contributing to society's culture - important! There is also no way to win that internal debate; if everything you make and share is 'good', your lack of lows diminishes the success of your highs (the idea of success alone merits its own post), in my own opinion. 

Worries aside, I think that any human being can practice creativity and even more that the regular practice of being creative stimulates naturally occurring creativity - a mutually beneficial cycle. Taking the pressure off making a product by, you know, removing the product leaves us simply with the worry-free act of making. The act of practicing creativity is not so much to be able to produce or not, but more so to refine one's craft and make new discoveries.  By doing, by practicing, both doing and practicing become such second nature that the creative person can narrow their focus when we finally return to that idea of making something. 

In order to be more proactive here are of my favorite exercises that are perfect for non-movers or movers, career artists or those who pursue creative endeavors recreationally - anyone who wants to ease access to regular creativity that's already lurking beneath the surface!

• Authentic movement/improv exercises. A set amount of time or not, filmed or not filmed, every single day I like to very briefly let my body do what it pleases. No 'dance' required, unless my body feels like adhering to technique. 
• Movement sketches. Observe something, find a way to pay quick/easy homage to it in movement. Last week it was mall-goers.
• Regular sketches. Really, doodling. I do this in an attempt to become better at drawing people and movement (no signs of improvement yet, by the way) but also to practice the skill of finishing things as it's really hard for me to abandon a sketch.
• Transcribing. Going into a coffee shop, riding the subway, sneakily eavesdropping on family and friends... the best justification for snooping on others. Write down all that you hear for a set period of time or for the duration of a conversation. I've found this provides an additional interesting exercise of taking apart and reassembling/generally tinkering with the structure of the original conversation.
• Writing! The old standard. I wish I was better at doing this regularly, but when I remember I enjoy picking a number of pages or a number of minutes to write and just getting words on paper. I can't do this on a computer, and I often rip the paper from a notebook and recycle it when I'm done. Not because I care about the quality, I like the temporary-ness.

What do you do for a regular practice of creativity? 

In wrapping up this entry I think it's important to note that one doesn't have to be an artist or dabble in making art to be considered creative. Creative problem solving is something most individuals do regularly and is no less valid of a form of creativity than making art; thinking outside the box is a vital skill to practice. Also, before I finish I must thank the friend mentioned in the anecdote at the beginning of the post! She inspired me to craft this piece, and I'm notoriously terrible at starting, finishing and publishing my thoughts - practice in action. I like to think our conversation, in some small part, also reinvigorated her need for daily practice, and I'm really excited to see where it takes her. 

For those of you still unconvinced of your own creativity, pick up a copy of this brilliant (and yet remarkably common sense) read and get going!

all-important

Note: This opinion piece speaks frequently of art and entertainment; it’s important to note that I’m referencing each in regards to the performing arts, specifically dance and theatre, as those fields are what I know. Perhaps the content relates to visual art, music and writing, but I’m not familiar enough with the worlds of those genres to comfortably discuss.

I often worry that the reason I make art isn’t important enough, the art itself isn’t important enough. Yes, this is completely ridiculous and self-defeating, but as someone who enjoys not just making but observing and participating in the art of others I’m very aware of the distinction of what’s purpose-driven and what is just pretty. As an individual who choreographs, designs and directs for the purposes of both making art and making a paycheck, often taking on gigs that aren’t as meaningful as the work I’m driven to create, I’m hyper-aware of a subconscious pull to ground my work in purpose (i.e. even if I’m working on a basic musical with kids there is still an immense take away from the experience for the participants), and am very aware of the boundaries of and gap between art and entertainment. I think it is an honor and a privilege to be able to be an artist for several reasons - reasons that would triple the length of this blog entry - and therefore believe there’s a responsibility to use one’s artist status to communicate, share, improve the community.

The debate on and space between art and entertainment will likely exist forever, and while my own internal discussion continues infinitely, my art-self-awareness was heightened when I started grad school a few months ago and by much of my recent reading. To clarify, I think both art and entertainment serve a purpose in society. I questioned this opinion over the last few months while learning about the incredibly talented artists also in my MFA program, many addressing the issues running rampant in current society and making important social change through their work.  I deeply questioned this opinion in the last few weeks when an essay I read described work made for aesthetic and pleasure as projecting an image of “a better order”, consequently taking the pressure off society to change. This is a bold charge and quite honestly true of entertainment, but I think that’s why entertainment exists - as a foil to art.

Art is participatory, thought-provoking, a statement, however subtle or brash it is presented. It is an exploration, an experience, carefully crafted by the artist who needed to create it. We attend art to think and to be challenged; art is about the content being presented, whereas entertainment focuses on the presentation. Entertainment is an escape in its tendency to provide easy enjoyment, and shock and awe. I go to musicals to be impressed by their lavish design and their unrealistic but wholly enjoyable tendency to break out into song and dance, to the ballet to see athletes exhibit their technical prowess. I enjoy myself at such events, but I’m never overly moved or challenged as the content itself, outside of glamorous trimmings and brilliant individual performances, is often too familiar and simplified.  One perk: entertainment does have the potential to be a gateway to art. I know several individuals that started attending dance performances by way of the ballet and other spectacle-heavy types of dance (think So You Think You Can Dance-esque), that slowly but surely have started taking chances and venturing deeper into art territory. Perhaps these two aren’t simply stand alone foils, but the two extremes on a possible-to-traverse scale.

All that being said, I think the balance of consumption of art and entertainment is far from ideal. If the average individual made as regular an effort to see impactful performances, projects and movements as they did the latest blockbuster, the millionth tour of Wicked, the annual Nutcracker, I can only imagine how different society would be. I think most opt for entertainment because we are afraid of being challenged. We are conditioned with the notion that the degree of understanding equals success, most students go through school getting numbered grades, the highest ranking student getting a special title at graduation, and there are many other similar situations through one’s life. I can imagine such a conditioned society has a hard time in a setting where they’re being provoked to think at an often abstract stimulus, without ‘right’ and ‘wrong’.

As I approach the end of this blog post I am revisiting my first sentence: I often worry that the reason I make art isn’t important enough, the art itself isn’t important enough. (A quick justification - what artist doesn’t spend some of their time questioning the validity of their work?) While I deviated from this initial thought, what I’ve learned from the examination of art and entertainment is that my art is important because it takes place in space and time, at a moment that was once the present moment. What I’ve learned about my own work by reading, thinking and applying is that I consistently create work on the human experience, social interaction and behavior.  This isn’t a catch-all; it, too, is important to examine commentary, narrative and abstract glimpses from the world we live in.  A recent work about artificiality, performance and interaction, a duet enacting a complicated relationship between females and a secret, a piece exploring trust in a system and overthrowing authoritative power - all of these come from my world and ask an audience to see and perhaps formulate an opinion upon these presented situations. The art, mine and that of others, is important because I cared enough to present something I needed to say in the best way I could possibly find to say it.  Similarly, perhaps entertainment is important due to society’s need to escape… and one step further, perhaps my need to explore my world and present it as an artist and my simultaneous need to be an audience member (not just for art, but for entertainment) are what are butting heads and causing this conflict-ridden internal discussion.