I always tell people that creativity is a muscle that must be continuously exercised and tended to in order to ensure it functions at its best. Doing small life drawings as warm-ups, developing colour palettes, reading books, experimenting with new flavours, and of course, physically seeing things that inspire me, such as textiles, pottery, and flowers, are all important in warming up my creative muscle. But what exercises it?
Creativity, at its peak, is like an intoxicating elixir, leaving you with an unquenchable thirst for life, beauty, and expression. When I’m in one of my creative highs, I begin experiencing synaesthesia, with my whole body responding to colours and words. My brain brims with ideas for projects, and my hands can barely keep up with my thoughts, scribbling madly on paper, broken words and loose sketches. It is a wonderful feeling, as if the world is a canvas of endless expression.
Inevitably, though, every uphill has a downhill. How does this manifest for me? Mainly as a bone-deep tiredness, where even the idea of opening a drawer seems exhausting, where my hands forget how to hold a pencil, and where putting together a single sentence feels as difficult as learning a new language. It manifests in doubt, self-questioning, sadness, and feeling overwhelmed before even starting.
As I currently face a low spell of creative energy, I ask myself: how do I navigate this?
I begin by walking. With no direction or destination, just the motion of stepping forward, one foot in front of the other. My mind remains in a state of chaos for the first twenty minutes, but slowly it begins to empty. I start hearing my feet crushing the wet grass beneath me; the wood pigeon cooing; eventually, the gravel dirt road tells me that I’m nearing the river, and the smell of wet greenery fills my nostrils; the shade of a tree raises goosebumps on my skin. I’m back in my body.
To return to our body is to return to a state of presence. It is here that creativity blossoms, when our senses are attuned to observing rather than doing. And it all starts with something as simple as putting one foot in front of the other.
This weeks inspiration
HILMA AF KLINT
Hilma’s work has stayed with me since I first saw it at last year's "Forms of Life" exhibition at the Tate Modern. The series, The Ten Largest, features ten monumental paintings that depict the four phases of life—childhood, youth, adulthood, and old age—through a spiritual lens.
VIAJEI - VITOR RAMIL & JORGE DREXLER
Mar adentro, noite afora
Agora, amor
É hora de querer
Dessa vida a proa
Sem sentido, à toa
As ondas de carinho
Levaram as palavras mas eu sigo indo
As ondas são caminhos
A very lost in translation, translation:
Out to sea, into the night
Now, my love,
It's time to desire
The bow of this life,
Aimless, adrift,
The waves of affection
Have carried the words away, but I keep going
The waves are paths.
really great work!! fascinating and vivid!!