Guard The Space

“To be creative you must create a space for yourself where you can be undisturbed… separate from everyday concerns.” ~ John Cleese

The idea of “getting out of the way of yourself” crops up often when artists describe their creative process. There are many ways of doing this. Hemingway said “Write drunk, edit sober” as a shorthand description of this hurdle. It seems that our unconscious associations are the hardest to reach and yet they’re right there to grab if we would simply step out of the way of ourselves. An appropriate allegory might be that of moving your feet down the stairs; if you think too hard about moving each muscle, you’ll probably fall pineapple over boots. But when you’re not focused on the muscle movements you allow an intuitive understanding of the task to take over. Similarly, the intuitive mind can glide through the ever-evolving network of threads provided by the moment when you don’t attempt to rationalize each step as you begin.

To use writing as a real-world example, let’s say I’ve got all the tools in front of me and now I look at a blank page and don’t know where to begin. It’s here I’ve noticed that I will benefit from getting “in the right mood” to create, otherwise I’ll start editing right away and pop all the idea balloons just as they begin to rise. Popping balloons is okay as a first reaction but eventually it starts to beg the question: “Why do I keep doing that?”, or, in an unproductive direction, “When will I have a good idea?” I observe that this is the veil of our analytical habits and unconscious fears getting in our way. After identifying these hurdles it’s up to us to find our way around them.

In attempting to create we are facing the unconscious fears from the editor within: “But what if the outcome is no good?” “If I don’t plan now, the flow won’t make sense.” We don’t like to be misunderstood, particularly when revealing our unconscious associations. I think this is why artists are often very sensitive about their work. One way to break the difficulty of letting go is to make it a game; to start with one idea and begin noticing the other ideas that come up. We quickly associate relationships and, maybe after following a few threads, we’ll be a short distance removed and discover some interesting ideas…or not. It’s no problem, it’s a game. John Cleese talks about this exercise like he’s got it down to a science:

“If you really don’t know where to start, or if you’re stuck, start generating random connections and allow your intuition to tell you if one might lead somewhere interesting.” – John Cleese

I’ve heard others express similar methods to getting into a creative mindset. Things flow much easier if you allow intuition to first vocalize relationships, even awkwardly so, and provide  you with raw material to later edit (much like the cardboard box mentioned in my Introduction post).

This brings us to the difficulty of releasing control for how things will turn out in the end. Because we are used to seeing the end-product of the creative process there exists this temptation to carefully craft a final draft from beginning to end. Instead, let’s think of the processes of creation as scribbling new discovery and the process of editing as crafting a beautiful map; two separate goals. When the desire to carefully edit comes up during discovery we can just notice this tendency and choose to put it aside for the moment. Consider that you’re not necessarily looking for a beginning but are, instead, looking for some detail to build a pattern around. Where you begin is less important than the process of momentarily setting a detail in stone from which to build around. That detail might wind up somewhere other than the beginning and that is OK.

I am a drummer. One of the things I enjoy with creative collaborators is the opportunity to goof off between songs. That is often the beginning of a creative process for me. A space that is loose allows for creative freedom that puts all of human emotion at our fingertips. When things are loose, it allows for connections to begin spiraling forth in lyrics and sensations and images, characters, movements, and melodies. Listening to old recordings of The Beatles, the ones where they keep the studio chatter in, you can hear John and Paul just turning into characters and then dropping them, making pretend songs and imaginary radio shows. There’s an emotional performance side that we tap into that goes beyond technical proficiency and into the exploration of our internal landscapes. We’re not even sure what we’ll find there.

With the unknown of our unconscious landscapes exposed, it takes a special trust to explore with others. In everyday experiences, the inner world is protected and hidden away, squished down in a perceived necessity to adapt into society or to save energy. We save our inner selves for special opportunities of expression. For musicians the jam space often becomes one of those special opportunities. That kind of space is the playground for intuition that allows the everyday world to slip away and an entirely new set of universes to be possible. And it’s particularly in that kind of space where you really want to be open to experience expression without the need to analyze each moment. For me, to goof around at first is to implicitly allow this space. A loose atmosphere says “Anything goes, and this is a safe space for that.”

In the absence of this space is where we find conflict in certain collaborative situations; when others refuse openness to new ideas and remain rooted firmly in the comfort of conventional assumptions. This can feel like an externally expressed reminder of our own creative repression and can be tough to face in the creative space. To get past this hurdle we can agree to accept idea contributions and build upon them.

In cultivating a collaborative creative space, the openness can begin in a small way, like showing we’re comfortable saying ridiculous things or (as musicians) playing songs with intentional bizarreness. We do it because we can. We do it because we can’t do it in other spaces. It’s not going to be perfect, it’s just going to be something happening. Now is not the time to make value judgments of good/bad, it’s just a time to follow along and see what you can build within the happening structure. Even if the idea ends up being really short, we are open to following it. That is the creative process: it’s play. Like a kid going on an adventure through the backyard, you know you’re safe, you know it’s a game, you’re just opening yourself to follow the narrative. Opening yourself.

Finding a thread and being comfortable enough to grab it – letting others hear – is the space that we are after. We might discover a little melody with lyrics about delicious pineapples. Now we’ve got a melody so we can turn those lyrics from tropical to stream-of-consciousness. Then 50 more threads appear for potential grabbing. We each play what we see in the moment. We are trusting and without a map beyond the next footstep. We turn one small idea into a forest of real experiences. But choosing those first threads needs to be second-nature. It needs to be unquestioned, allowed to spring from nothing and go nowhere if need be. A space for the idea to fail without judgment. To allow anything includes the possibility of nothing.

— How to get there —

Trust the threads.

To get to that space where your soul is pouring out through your hands and voice, we’ve each (in the space) got to be open to anything or nothing. Infinite ideas are too much. We need choices; intuitive choices. Threads narrow it down and give a place to start. Threads are fleeting opportunities; potential links to new worlds. Don’t sever the line for the sake of control. Don’t sever the strings of imagination for the ordinary.

It’s something in the corner of your imagination like a half-remembered dream. An ordinary thread hanging there to begin with, pulled and attached to a sheet covering a larger vision. Soul-satisfying creativity requires a space where your intuition can be held loosely. When the space is regularly frustrated by technical matters, your brain stops creating and starts editing. This is what we do in our ordinary, Clark Kent lives. This is not the right creative process for me or you.

We don’t let our souls shine when someone isn’t open to following. Following takes trust, patience, and openness to experience, so we must permit ourselves these same graces.

This is a metaphysical goal for us. We will create beyond the ordinary inside of this space. What’s exciting is that I see the potential for much more, especially if we cherish and guard the space.