WiFi for fishes
Your support is essential
I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. If not, then at least within arm’s reach of some. Thanks to everyone who shared your stories and experiences with creative block. I’m in good company. Three words feature consistently.
I used to
“I used to rush home to write poems after work that felt natural and powerful. I published a few. Now, it’s as if my creativity melted away or part of me has closed off when I sit down to write.”
“I used to draw and paint. I took weekly art classes. My friends and family called me the ‘creative one’ because I was always working on a new idea.”
“I used to be so inspired to start new projects, enter an exhibition or even just doodle.”
Missing inaction
It feels like part of you is missing. Your creativity, your inner artist, your muse.
“They’ve just popped out to the shops, or to visit a relative,” you say to yourself, whilst organising your bits and pieces, so you can be ready when they return.
Seventeen coffees and twice as many circuits of the news, your socials and the fridge, your creative output is: nil.
Staring into that empty fridge is not unlike your inner artistic world: a cold and lonely place.
The doorbell rings
You hurry to the front door, grateful for a distraction from self-flagellation, only to find your inner critic, hands in pockets, leeching smug superiority onto the doorstep.
“I’d ask how it’s going, but it’s a safe bet that it isn’t.”
They press inside and saunter down the hallway, towards the heart of your home (they’ve been here before). It seems your creative spark, or more likely, the caffeine overdose, has been replaced by a deep, burning resentment. Making art has become an obligation, a chore, a deep well of guilt.
Yet, the impulse to create persists. The ideas keep coming and, like emails from your boss, they can’t be ignored.
So, what’s actually missing?
Chances are, before you stopped, you were creating within a system. It created the conditions for you to connect with, express and share your creativity with others.
“I had a group of friends - also artists - that I’d meet every week or two. They made me feel comfortable asking for advice, or swapping ideas and entering prizes.”
“My painting setup was permanent. I could step into it every day. We called it ‘my studio’, even though it was just some bits and pieces in a corner.”
Then, something changed
“Since COVID, I work remotely and the days are long. After work, my family, friends and pets come first.”
“After our first child, my music room became a storage room. When I crack the door open, the layers of dust make me feel guilty, even though I know it’s not forever. Is it?”
“I fell through a wormhole to another planet. The locals, believing me to be a demigod, anointed me as their supreme leader. The money’s great and the culture suits me. But it’s very taxing mentally. By the time I get a minute to myself with a sketchbook, I’m creatively drained.”
Your creativity - or your inner artist, muse or whatever you call it - didn’t disappear. Something else did. Something every fish needs. Wifi.
Your invisible support system
Your creative support system is like water to a fish (or WiFi to humans): invisible. You don’t notice it until it’s missing or you’ve evolved beyond it.
The right support system connects you to a signal that says “It’s OK for you to do this. Keep it up.” It also reinforces your identity as a creative person, maybe even an artist. Even if you don’t call yourself one, you feel like one. You feel positive because your creativity is valued.
When your creativity is nourished like this, you’re motivated and inspired to keep doing your thing, whether that’s drawing, painting, writing, music, or any other art form.
Critically, all of this fits in with your busy life.
These conditions promote a continual creative practice.
If the system doesn’t fit, or supports fall away, a gap appears. A day turns into a week and in time, that gap widens into a chasm. One that a single creative act can’t bridge because it can’t do the work of the entire system. Neither can you, alone.
A spot of time travel
If you - or someone you know - is grappling with a creative block, check the support system. Think back, just before you stopped or were blocked.
What structures created the conditions that fed your creativity?
Are any missing now, or do they still fit your current life needs?
What’s the smallest structure or tweak that could be a fit for now? Something low-friction, low expectations, that you could try out, as soon as you’ve finished reading this letter?
You are wifi to my fish
In other words, thank you. For reading this, for your comments and your encouragement. Would I write and draw without knowing you’d read this? I might make some notes in a journal and, if I could be bothered, maybe a sketch to capture the vibe. And that would be the end of it.
I wouldn’t picture you reading these words, possibly getting something helpful to take away, or at the very least some entertainment. So I wouldn’t put as much care into it. I wouldn’t stick with it. I wouldn’t be as challenged in some ways, nor would I receive the many, often tiny rewards of exploring and expressing my creativity.
You are the single most important element in my creative support system. My journey in art is all the better for your company.