daring to rethink how we approach creativity
you should be taking your work more seriously.
I've been reading a lot of writing about writing lately. And yes, I do it because I'd like to improve my writing, but I also seem to really enjoy these books.
I love the way they take you inside the struggle to give shape to something they are driven to create. I love the romanticization of the practice. I love the way writing is framed as both work (parameters and boundaries) and play (a disregard for anything that isn't fun).
That's really the heart of any creative practice, isn't it? Striking the right balance of work and play that allows for a vision to come to life.
And it has me thinking. Why do we, as a culture, consider some art forms (like writing or painting) as hard work that requires consistent practice and dedication and others as hobbies (like weaving or sewing) not worthy of the same kind of persistence and care?
I know there is a lot to be said about who has historically tended to do one kind of art vs the other and the language and systems designed to disrespect and belittle the work of others. It's important to acknowledge while also stating that is not what this post is about.
Instead, I want to discuss ways we can start taking our art, whatever that is, more seriously in our own day to lives. And If you're reading this thinking, all I do is bake for my family/sew for myself/compulsively knit dish scrubbies/keep an embroidery doodle journal/insert craft here, I want you to take a step back.
If what you create takes time, creativity, and failure in order to grow (aka work) but also brings you joy, calm, and makes you feel like yourself (play), then you are making art.
And if you're making art in the margins of your life, chances are you are often wishing for more time to spend on and improve your art.
You may find yourself full of creative inspiration and energy but unable to act on that energy because you just walked in the door with a week's worth of groceries while everyone asks you when dinner will be ready and your preschooler is dumping every board game you own out on the floor. By the time all of that is sorted the moment is gone.
Or you may find yourself with a little bit of time but none of the inspiration and motivation you were feeling days before.
I know for me these scenarios often lead to a lot of disappointment and frustration in my creative life.
But what if, instead of showing up for our crafts only when the mood strikes we took a more traditionally “serious” approach?
Traditional writing advice says to have a way to quickly record ideas to circle back to later. Traditional writing advice says to show up to work, set a timer, and don't stop writing even when you don't feel like it.
What if we showed up to our creative practices and treated them like the transformative and necessary practices they are?
What if we came to our work, even when we don't feel like it, with a plan and a time limit?
Would we be better bakers, knitters, weavers, spinners, sewists, and artists?
Would we find more satisfaction in our work, our lives, and ourselves?