I have quilter's block. Not the kind you put into a quilt, but the kind that's the artistic equivalent of writer's block. The kind where you feel as if you'll never have another creative idea. This happens periodically, often after a very productive period, or sometimes when there's been a lot of turmoil in my life, so one might think that the experience would not be too terrifying. And since I've come through all those times before to create again, one might also think that I would know exactly what to do to get the creative machinery going again. Unfortunately, one would be wrong on both counts. All I can do is try to remember the things that helped and didn't help before.
Surprisingly, knowing (or at least being pretty sure) that this state is temporary is no help at all. And I am pretty sure because this has happened before, many times, and I've always gone on to create something new afterwards. It also doesn't help to know that every creative person I've asked has at least occasionally been in this same leaky boat, equally insecure, and that every single one of them has bailed him or herself out and gone on to create again. Okay, maybe Picasso never felt that way, but I'm not exactly in his league. So I'm in the not-unfamiliar position of being anxious that I'm unable to even imagine creating anything, reassuring myself daily that I will eventually jump out of that rut, but still being stuck there.
Sometimes it's helped to determine what the real problem is, as occasionally it's something that can actually be fixed. For me it's often clutter, either physical, mental or emotional. Physical clutter is stuff in your studio that hasn't been put away since 2007, or the loss of your cat among the dust bunnies in your house. Mental clutter is that list of things, usually unpleasant or annoying, that need to be done: organize your finances for the accountant or write the instructions for the new class you're teaching next week. All of these obstacles are at least resolvable. But emotional turmoil—problems with kids, spouses, coworkers, even pets—can suck up your creative energy like a sponge, and is usually harder to fix than the other stuff.
Obviously I have no solution to this recurring problem other than to wait patiently and tell myself that eventually I will create again; if I did, I wouldn't be writing about it. But I do have a few tricks that have helped in the past. First I admit that I'm scared—don't ask me why this helps and don't tell me that it sounds like a 12-step program. I know that, but I also know that it seems to be the first step in the process. Then I try to get rid of any annoyances that I can, starting with the easiest thing first. Finishing even one thing gives me momentum and a sense of accomplishment, and has the added bonus of letting me cross something off my list. (About the list—try not to add more things than you cross off, as it's very discouraging to see it grow rather than shrink. However, if you do something that you have forgotten to put on the list, you are allowed to add it and then cross it off. This is not cheating.) So take a day to organize your studio and your taxes. After that, try to find something to do that's fun, or at least calming, and also unrelated to your work. This doesn't have to be a trip toItaly: go to a museum, take a walk, watch a movie. If you're fit company for other humans, have lunch with a friend—just do something to get your mind into another zone. If you like to cook, try the recipe you've been saving. If you're a reader, spend an afternoon reading a book. Your problem with creativity may not be fixed, but just escaping that feeling of being overwhelmed for a short period can be very helpful.
Emotional clutter is tougher. Problems with other humans seem to be a part of life that's not always fixable, so you'll either have to try to solve some of them or learn to ignore them, at least temporarily. Luckily, sewing is the perfect vehicle for the latter—it takes enough concentration that you forget about the garbage, but not so much that you create another problem for yourself. So find a project that won't require a great deal of attention—the blocks for the king-sized quilt that you temporarily abandoned come to mind—and start sewing. If you're an adherent of yoga or meditation, get out the mat. If you're a runner or an exerciser, lace up your shoes or go to the gym. If you're not an exerciser, I promise that a brisk walk will help put everything into perspective.
I hope that at least one of these techniques will work for you. If not, I'm sorry, but I have to admit that listing them has certainly made me feel better, if only by reminding me that there's hope. So first I'm going to add "write blarticle" to my list and cross it off. Then I'm going to clean my house and look for the cat.
© 2010 Jane Hardy Miller
Comments
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Posted by Jean Romack on February 29th, 2012 at 5:23 a.m.Great blarticle Jane