Saturday, July 12, 2014

Exercising your creativity.

Is it Art?

Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep.” Scott Adams

I was at a gallery show last night—a fundraiser for the Wounded Warrior Project. I'm always inspired by other people's work and curious about what is considered art and what is not. I bought a small quilted pillow for my great niece who will soon be one year old. I know she's not allowed to have pillows in her crib, but presumably one day, she will be. This one has a funny little girl with green hair and a flouncy skirt on it. How could I pass that up? There were several new artists in the gallery—one who sculpts incredibly intricate things, like Cahaba lilies, from solid alabaster, and one who staples sticks and wire and wads of fabric on a board with some scary looking faces. Two extremes of what is called “art.” Odd to see them side by side. I love that about artists—that some like their work to get an “oh!” rather than an “ah!” out of you.

I was talking with a friend of mine there, who said she is working too hard at the non-profit that employs her to have energy left over for creativity. I know that feeling. It's hard to be creative when you're tired, or when the space you have to work in is cramped. But creativity comes in all forms. A simple piece of paper and some colored pencils will sometimes suffice. We just need to scribble and color, and make shapes and put dots inside to exercise our inner need to be creative. It doesn't have to be something you hang on the wall, or a lily sculpted from alabaster.

I finally stopped at the house down the way and picked up two of those wooden crates that they put out every week. They're made from thin slats of wood wired together, and not very sturdy. They're lying here in a heap on my porch table. I'm pretty sure that if I take them apart and remove all the wires, I can make something neat from them. Perhaps not “art” but, at least, “fun.”

It's the weekend. I hope you are exercising your creativity today.

                                               In the Spirit,
                                                    Jane

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