Sometimes I think about the nights in my childhood when I couldn’t sleep. When it was so warm and the crickets were screaming.
It must have been summer, but my lungs felt smaller and my hair felt like hay against my neck.
I moved to the window and sat on the faded bean bag chair that was next to it. The air was cooler but I could hear the crickets louder. Somehow, they stopped screaming and sang instead.
When I felt the next whisper of wind, I fell asleep there.
I might have just woken up from that night this morning. The light is shining crooked and twinkly through the breaks in the leaves of trees. I feel like I’m looking around in my memory.
Creativity as a Tool
I had a conversation with my grandpa about this kind of light. Dappled light. We also spoke about deckled edges of paper and I couldn’t remember which was which. He wrote a poem to help me.
“[…] She was delicately drawing / A faint faerie, astride the withers / Of a massive dapple grey mare / Carefully laying the lazy outlines / Between the deckled edges / Of her rough pressed paper […]”
I wonder if these words just came to him. I admire that he can use art as a tool in this way.
Creativity as a Tool
I had a conversation with my grandpa about this kind of light. Dappled light. We also spoke about deckled edges of paper and I couldn’t remember which was which. He wrote a poem to help me.
“[…] She was delicately drawing / A faint faerie, astride the withers / Of a massive dapple grey mare / Carefully laying the lazy outlines / Between the deckled edges / Of her rough pressed paper […]”
I wonder if these words just came to him. I admire that he can use art as a tool in this way.
Sometimes, if I try hard to write about one thing, my mind won’t let me. My mind is crinkly like the notebook I keep at the bottom of my bag that accidentally collects gum and crumbs. I’m meant to write about creativity, but sometimes I can’t feel it. So how can I write it?
I feel creative when I am connected. And I feel connected when I am creative. Right now I feel like a ball of cotton. So, I’ll mentally reschedule. And, I’ll let my mind sleep while my eyes are open.
Sometimes, if I try hard to write about one thing, my mind won’t let me. My mind is crinkly like the notebook I keep at the bottom of my bag that accidentally collects gum and crumbs. I’m meant to write about creativity, but sometimes I can’t feel it. So how can I write it?
I feel creative when I am connected. And I feel connected when I am creative. Right now I feel like a ball of cotton. So, I’ll mentally reschedule. And, I’ll let my mind sleep while my eyes are open.
Creativity as a Tool
I had a conversation with my grandpa about this kind of light. Dappled light. We also spoke about deckled edges of paper and I couldn’t remember which was which. He wrote a poem to help me.
“[…] She was delicately drawing / A faint faerie, astride the withers / Of a massive dapple grey mare / Carefully laying the lazy outlines / Between the deckled edges / Of her rough pressed paper […]”
I wonder if these words just came to him. I admire that he can use art as a tool in this way.
Sometimes, if I try hard to write about one thing, my mind won’t let me. My mind is crinkly like the notebook I keep at the bottom of my bag that accidentally collects gum and crumbs. I’m meant to write about creativity, but sometimes I can’t feel it. So how can I write it?
I feel creative when I am connected. And I feel connected when I am creative. Right now I feel like a ball of cotton. So, I’ll mentally reschedule. And, I’ll let my mind sleep while my eyes are open.
Capturing Likeness
I’m not an artist in the traditional sense. A mentor once told me that a self-portrait of mine captured my likeness. I knew, and he knew, that it did not look like me. But I drew how I was feeling and how I was seeing, and he understood.
Creativity allows for any kind of art to capture the likeness of abstract things. Nothing can ever be wholly represented.
Creativity allows it to be only as accurate and understandable as the interpreter wishes.
That’s all you can hope for really in matters of the art.
Capturing Likeness
I’m not an artist in the traditional sense. A mentor once told me that a self-portrait of mine captured my likeness. I knew, and he knew, that it did not look like me. But I drew how I was feeling and how I was seeing, and he understood.
Creativity allows for any kind of art to capture the likeness of abstract things. Nothing can ever be wholly represented.
Creativity allows it to be only as accurate and understandable as the interpreter wishes.
That’s all you can hope for really in matters of the art.
When I cannot think and I cannot write, it is necessary to accept that not everyone will understand what I mean for them to, and that art and thought will take on whatever meaning it will. Then my mind becomes the ink that is written in the notebook that is still at the bottom of my bag.
When I cannot think and I cannot write, it is necessary to accept that not everyone will understand what I mean for them to, and that art and thought will take on whatever meaning it will. Then my mind becomes the ink that is written in the notebook that is still at the bottom of my bag.
Capturing Likeness
I’m not an artist in the traditional sense. A mentor once told me that a self-portrait of mine captured my likeness. I knew, and he knew, that it did not look like me. But I drew how I was feeling and how I was seeing, and he understood.
Creativity allows for any kind of art to capture the likeness of abstract things. Nothing can ever be wholly represented.
Creativity allows it to be only as accurate and understandable as the interpreter wishes.
That’s all you can hope for really in matters of the art.
When I cannot think and I cannot write, it is necessary to accept that not everyone will understand what I mean for them to, and that art and thought will take on whatever meaning it will. Then my mind becomes the ink that is written in the notebook that is still at the bottom of my bag.