The renovations, the work in my house, took longer than expected, as I guess these things always do. Actually, a whole second round was necessary, which involved the second floor being gutted and rebuilt. The house is old, and many things had not been touched since it was built in 1912. Floor joists had worn thin, rafters were only supporting the upper floor by either strong determination or a miracle, staircases were ready to collapse.
I could use this to continue the metaphor I began in my first post for this blog, but what I'm interested in right now is the effect this ongoing chaos has had on my ability to create. The effect isn't actually difficult to discover - I've been utterly unable to create for months. What I want to explore is why.
During the past year, I've had workmen in the house for over nine months. This has involved noise, dust, constant interruptions, concern about paying for it all, decisions needing to be made, sleeping in the basement for three months, stuff packed up and so not available if needed, and on and on. But really, why should this affect my ability to write and to sew? Actually, I could still sew, although only projects which needed little creative input. I could follow instructions and cut fabric and sew pieces of fabric together. I couldn't do anything that required a personal input.
Creativity takes place in my head, right? When I think of me writing, I see myself sitting at my desk, ideas growing in my mind and flowing through a connection between my mind, my arms, my fingers, to my keyboard. I don't actually know what happens when I'm in 'the zone' the time when I lose track of time, and of conscious participation in the process. I don't know if I watch the screen, or my fingers, or even if my eyes are open or closed. So, if the creative process is this internal, needing only me and my computer, or paper and pen, why does all this external chaos matter?
The problem become more than in my mind, though, there was an almost tangible physical barrier, too. I could not get myself to sit down to work. If I did force myself to sit at my desk, the most I could manage was to check email or play solitaire. I admit that it's not always easy to get myself to write, since doing so is hard work, and there is always fear involved. Different people set up different barriers that stem from our inner fears. Mine has always been that I'm not good enough. I'll do another post on these fears at some point. My problems during the last many months were far stronger.
Why couldn't I write or design? Maybe I'll look at the problem from the other end. If chaos prevented me from being creative, what sort of environment do I need?
When I write, I need silence. While I can write with music in the background, in needs to be instrumental only. Anything with words, even if they are in a different language, is too distracting, and I work best without any music or other sounds in the background. I read somewhere that for some people, especially those who start studying music at a young age, as I did, the music and language areas in the brain become one area, or are linked. This makes sense, if I think about how music distracts me. It takes up some of the area of the brain that I need when I write.
I also need to know I have an unbroken block of time available.Even if the most I expect to work is, say an hour and a half, I like to know there is more time than that. Once I get a flow going, I don't want to have to stop in the middle. In general I work best in spurts, and an hour and a half is about my usual spurt time, but I still need to know I won't be interrupted for longer than that.
Other than these things, I need a chair and place to work, my desk or somewhere else to set my laptop, and something to drink, usually herbal tea or watered-down juice. The hour and a half works well because I know it's not good to sit too long, especially since breaking my ankle, as that ankle and the opposite knee, which is messed up from the way I walk now, stiffen up and become painful. I don't notice the pain when I'm writing, but I do when I stop. So it's good to get up and move around.
Once I've done my spurt, that might be it for the day. I might spend time free associating, or asking myself questions about what is to come next in the story, but I might do something different and trust my subconscious to work on what will come next. If I'm at a writing retreat, or somewhere without the usual distractions and demands of real life, I might do another spurt, or even two, later in the day or evening.
The above doesn't seem like much to ask. It should be easy to find. If the house is noisy, I can take my laptop to the library or a quiet cafe. During the past year, though, I haven't been able to get myself to do that.
Quilting is even easier. I like to listen to music, usually songs, when I sew, unless there's someone around to talk to. I can sketch designs, or wrestle with the math that many patterns require, even if there are people around. I need space, of course, to lie out fabric to see what goes with what, and what inspires me. I need my sewing machine, unless I'm doing hand work. But I've had all the above during the second round of renovations, since the studio was finished after the first round. And yet I couldn't function as a creative being.
Why not? It appears that the inner environment is greatly affected by the external environment. While I might think that my creativity takes place inside my head, what happens outside of my body is connected. If everything around me is noisy and chaotic, frazzling and stressful, it affects all of me.
I guess that in addition to the above list of what I need in order to write or design quilts, I also need space inside my head. And if my mind is too full of things that are happening in other parts of my life, there isn't enough room for the creativity to grow. I can use the garden as a metaphor, plants need sunlight and nutrients in soil and water to grow, but they also need time. Time to absorb those nutrients and turn them into stems and leaves. And flowers. The necessary time has to be present without other environmental factors that interfere with growth. There can't be too much wind, or people stepping on the garden. or even too much fertilizer. The growth has to happen on its own time, and in its own natural way.
I don't know if I'm any closer to understanding why I couldn't create while my house was torn apart. I guess the only answer I have right now is that my life was torn apart, too. And creativity, like any sort of growth, needs its own natural time and space.
