At what point does creativity become unimportant in adult development?
Our last son anticipated his last Cub Scout Pinewood Derby, and my husband and I were not heartbroken to see the end of that era. Mark, on the other hand, along with the other little Scouts who had carved, sanded, and painted their rectangular blocks of pinewood, arrived at the race just as excited, proud, and hopeful as the rest of our boys once did. Much to his dismay, however, when he placed his car on the official scale, it weighed too much.
Our family huddled. Together, we decided the only thing to be done at that point was to shave off chunks of wood, one cruel slice at a time. Watching his car being whittled down, Mark simply remarked, resignedly, “I should have just made a motorcycle," We all chortled, surprised and delighted by his good humor and good nature. He was neither overwhelmed by disappointment nor overcome by failure. For better or worse, this was simply a creative experience.
Sir Ken Robinson, Ph.D., a leader in the development of innovation, education, and creativity, observes that kids are willing to take chances. Or, as he puts it more pithily, “If they don’t know, they’ll have a go. They’re not frightened of being wrong.” Ironically, it’s often success that keeps us from trying new things or trying again. We like having a great track record.
Still only in her 40s, author Elizabeth Gilbert has been surprised yet slightly disturbed by the success of her runaway bestselling memoir Eat, Pray, Love. While admittedly flattered by public praise, she is troubled by the idea of having all her future work compared to this one book. She argues that we expect impossible things from artists--that they will always be great and that the greatness of their next work will certainly eclipse the greatness of their most recent one. Refusing to accept this uncomfortable notion, especially since she hopes to have several decades left to write, Gilbert suggests we reject the idea of being geniuses, which leaves no comfort room for personal failure. Instead, she proposes we re-embrace the pre-Renaissance belief that all of us have a genius, a source outside ourselves we turn to for inspiration and help.
Still only in her 40s, author Elizabeth Gilbert has been surprised yet slightly disturbed by the success of her runaway bestselling memoir Eat, Pray, Love. While admittedly flattered by public praise, she is troubled by the idea of having all her future work compared to this one book. She argues that we expect impossible things from artists--that they will always be great and that the greatness of their next work will certainly eclipse the greatness of their most recent one. Refusing to accept this uncomfortable notion, especially since she hopes to have several decades left to write, Gilbert suggests we reject the idea of being geniuses, which leaves no comfort room for personal failure. Instead, she proposes we re-embrace the pre-Renaissance belief that all of us have a genius, a source outside ourselves we turn to for inspiration and help.
This idea of creative partnership can help us manage "the emotional risks of creativity," as Gilbert calls them, freeing us from the pressure to always be "on our game" and giving us permission and space to be uninspired at times, to make mistakes. Indeed, perhaps failure is as much a part of the creative process as is success. After all, even some of the best have failed.
Carol Burnett, a woman I consider to be one of the funniest and most talented comediennes, gave a self-admitted terrible performance in the movie, The Front Page. Once aboard a flight from L.A. to New York, to her horror, she heard that very film announced as the in-flight movie. After squirming and suffering through the entire two hours, she immediately asked the attendant if she could borrow the microphone. “Uh, good afternoon," she muttered. "I want to take this opportunity to apologize for my performance in the movie you just saw.” The passengers onboard exploded with laughter, and Burnett said she felt “absolutely cleansed.”
Carol Burnett, a woman I consider to be one of the funniest and most talented comediennes, gave a self-admitted terrible performance in the movie, The Front Page. Once aboard a flight from L.A. to New York, to her horror, she heard that very film announced as the in-flight movie. After squirming and suffering through the entire two hours, she immediately asked the attendant if she could borrow the microphone. “Uh, good afternoon," she muttered. "I want to take this opportunity to apologize for my performance in the movie you just saw.” The passengers onboard exploded with laughter, and Burnett said she felt “absolutely cleansed.”
The end products of creativity may not be as important as the process. I have a long personal history of “domestic disasters” such as burning meals, spilling paint, and breaking things—each failure teaching me what to avoid the next time around. In addition, all my adult life I have attended monthly “Homemaking Meetings” at church where if I haven’t ruined a project, I’ve often burnt my finger on the glue gun or the like. Most recently, for example, I built a cake plate. All I had to do was simply glue a glass base to a decorative plate, but even that simple craft ended up drying crooked. (I donated it back to the thrift shop where I’d bought the materials.) Although I haven’t always come home from such meetings with beautiful crafts, I have almost always come home a little wiser. Trying my hand at new things has only been part of the creative experience; the other part has been associating with other women and learning from them. Their stories, concerns, heartbreaks, and triumphs have shaped me, my relationships, and my home more than any crafts ever have.
Like many kindergarteners 45 years ago, I was not only allowed but actually encouraged to be creative all day long. Did I want to dress up or build something with blocks? Did I feel like playing musical instruments or would I rather quietly play with clay? Did I prefer to doodle or just dabble in the finger paints? Evidently, all creative options were once considered valid and important, at least in early childhood development. So, at what point does creativity become unimportant in adult development? I have no childhood recollections of being criticized for trying to be creative, yet many adults rush to criticize themselves when their creative endeavors don’t turn out perfectly.
Women tend to be especially disparaging of themselves, quickly pointing out the negative rather than celebrating the good. Sometimes, in fact, they won't share their work at all. I've literally seen mothers proudly display their children's elementary-school artwork in beautiful frames on the walls of their homes while hiding drafts of their own poetry and novels in dresser drawers. Perhaps more than any other group, women have bought into the belief that "creativity and suffering are somehow inherently linked and that artistry, in the end, will always ultimately lead to anguish” (Gilbert).
Women tend to be especially disparaging of themselves, quickly pointing out the negative rather than celebrating the good. Sometimes, in fact, they won't share their work at all. I've literally seen mothers proudly display their children's elementary-school artwork in beautiful frames on the walls of their homes while hiding drafts of their own poetry and novels in dresser drawers. Perhaps more than any other group, women have bought into the belief that "creativity and suffering are somehow inherently linked and that artistry, in the end, will always ultimately lead to anguish” (Gilbert).
I know better now what my gifts and talents are and how I can best use them creatively to help, to heal, and to restore happiness. I can tell I’m on the right track when I feel close to God because He is my best partner in the creative process. He is, after all, The Creator.
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