Most of us dread a blank wall, a blank page, and a blank monitor. It signifies a mental or a creative block. Or worse, creative fatigue. The space where we find ourselves spent and/or utterly unable to take a step or make a decision. And when decision paralysis takes over, it seems like nothing will pop that bubble.
This past week I ran into the dreaded blank wall. A tall and thick wall of nothingness. There was a void in my mind and nothing to fill it with. Looking at my photos from Italy gave me nothing. Browsing my Pinterest boards left me in no better place. Reading my books spurred no ideas to the surface. (By the way, I am currently reading two books: Your Brain in Art by Susan Magsamen and Ivy Ross and The Forger Spell by Edward Dolnick. I hope to tell you about them soon.)
There are countless formulas on how to be more creative, be more artistic, and be more inspired. Typing the words how to be more creative on the search bar of whichever search engine you prefer, will return a countless array of articles from the experts and the non experts. There are a plethora of posts, articles, and books on how to be more creative, how to train your brain to have more ideas, how to increase your creativity, along with the dreaded “x ways to be…”, are a dime a dozen. We, like sheep led to each one, read and practice the advise hoping for a better than before creative block or blank wall episode.
One of my favorite movies from the 80s is The Karate Kid. Many scenes of the movie are memorable but the one that resonates with me the most is the car washing scene. In it, Mr. Miyagi teaches Danny, his new, bullied and eager student how to wash cars. This is not any type of car washing, mind you. No. Mr. Miyagi teaches Danny the precise way in which he needs to motion his hands while car washing. Miyagi’s technique is the now famous Wax On, Wax Off. Yes, this has been discussed before and we all laugh at Mr. Miyagi’s astuteness and Danny’s ignorance. Of course, it is easy to see now how Danny was being ignorant and foolish. Quite frankly however, it would not be easy to see for us either. Yes, we are the ignorant ones. Routine tasks are often the foundation of creative sparks.
Creative blocks, blank walls, and decision paralysis stem from an unwillingness to make a decision. It sounds like opposite would be true, right? Conversely, too many decisions, ideas, and thoughts, can lead to the same place of nothingness. But, the moment we make a decision, all of the other possibilities are either gone or put on hold. And that one moment can be a scary place. The one decision that for whatever amount of time, be it a few hours or a few years, will define a path. All those other possibilities? At the very least they will have to come back to see another day.
Decision paralysis has a certain allure. It invites empathetic comments and advice from others, it makes you look like you have been working, and it makes you look like you have too many ideas to handle even one. It makes us look busy while not taking one single step or making a decision. We are after all, considering options, right? Except that we are not. Instead we are effectively and actively nursing a state of inaction, stagnation, and inertia. A decision will break the spell. But, we hesitate. We wonder over and over.
On Thursday, I found myself in the void. During my trip to Italy, I took a break from my daily practice. There were too many variables and it being my first time, I thought I would spend my efforts observing and learning from my coworker. But I was back now and felt this dread. I had no cute thoughts, phrases, or any particular path to explore. Let me state it simply: I was completely and utterly immersed in an inspired void. It occurred to me that if I spent time mulling over the void, I would not get out of it. I walked to my bookshelf. There is the shelf of new sketchbooks. Browsed through them and grabbed the accordion bound watercolor.
Because the sketchbook opens like an accordion, I thought, oh, cool, a storyline. But, instead of creating a story, I opted for mixing watercolors for the background of each panel. I thought doing something I am familiar with will ignite something. That was a good thought but nope. My process went on to include letters and since there was a continuity, the alphabet. Each decision in this process was made linearly and rationally. There was very little or no emotion while I was working on this. I would do something, look at it, dry it out if I needed to, revise, look at it, and so on. There was no romantic rapture or burning sense of reaching an epiphany.
By the last panel, I saw something that surprised me. I finished the sketchbook. And the last panel felt like a triumph of sorts. I had made a decision to pop the uninspired void and something came out of it. It matters little if it is beautiful or not. What matters is that showing up to do the work pops the void.
Below is a video of the sketchbook. The hand model is my husband, Tyson. Right after, there are some pictures too.