This word is thrown around a lot in America. We have it, yes, despite the economic woes currently creeping in. But I want to talk about cultivating abundance in terms of artistic process. Some may call it inspiration, others the "groove," still others call it mania. In my little circle of writer/painter/musician friends it seems there is always someone who has it and someone who is desperate to get it back. A poet friend of mine is overwhelmed with ideas at the moment. She can't go to bed at night because she is beseiged by lines pouring out. She has four books going at the same time. She's writing a screenplay. She goes to work figeting, desperate to get back to the notebook. Her fingers can't scribble fast enough. "This is the most productive time of my life," she gushes to me on the phone.
The thing about this person is that I don't think her abundance is by accident. That muse didn't just bite her on the butt because she finally wore tight pants. I have a theory and you may not like it. My poet friend, after moving every 6 months or so, has finally landed in one place for over a year. She has a steady job, all her books are in one place (yes, you other artists, we need all of them!), and she's surrounded by her friends.
We like to think that inspiration/abundance/wild creativity is something that just happens to us. Or, more interestingly, that it is brought on by other excesses--drinking hard, sleeping little, changing locations, jobs, etc. But lately I've been thinking just the opposite. What if a level of stability brings us abundance? I'm not talking about something that stifles. I'm talking about a bit of an artistic routine. Some of the most productive and creative people I know go to bed early. They eat nutritiously and rarely drink. Revolutionary?
We are all fed this idea of the successful artist as incredibly self-destructive. A musician friend of mine actually told me that a teacher once told him, "Wanna be great? Go to New York and get mugged." Why is this myth still proliferating? There are plenty of examples of phenomenal artists who abused themselves and were still filled with artistic abundance, yes. I know this. But let's think about it, seriously. The mind works best when it is fed, rested, and exercised. I've written my share of 2AM poems or vodka-induced reveries, but the true juice came after I had hiked 5 miles, eaten a huge bowl of whole-wheat pasta with spinach, and took my notebook with me.
Come on, you rebels. Create a little artistic abundance. I'll join you. Look for me with the green tea sitting by the brightest window.
The thing about this person is that I don't think her abundance is by accident. That muse didn't just bite her on the butt because she finally wore tight pants. I have a theory and you may not like it. My poet friend, after moving every 6 months or so, has finally landed in one place for over a year. She has a steady job, all her books are in one place (yes, you other artists, we need all of them!), and she's surrounded by her friends.
We like to think that inspiration/abundance/wild creativity is something that just happens to us. Or, more interestingly, that it is brought on by other excesses--drinking hard, sleeping little, changing locations, jobs, etc. But lately I've been thinking just the opposite. What if a level of stability brings us abundance? I'm not talking about something that stifles. I'm talking about a bit of an artistic routine. Some of the most productive and creative people I know go to bed early. They eat nutritiously and rarely drink. Revolutionary?
We are all fed this idea of the successful artist as incredibly self-destructive. A musician friend of mine actually told me that a teacher once told him, "Wanna be great? Go to New York and get mugged." Why is this myth still proliferating? There are plenty of examples of phenomenal artists who abused themselves and were still filled with artistic abundance, yes. I know this. But let's think about it, seriously. The mind works best when it is fed, rested, and exercised. I've written my share of 2AM poems or vodka-induced reveries, but the true juice came after I had hiked 5 miles, eaten a huge bowl of whole-wheat pasta with spinach, and took my notebook with me.
Come on, you rebels. Create a little artistic abundance. I'll join you. Look for me with the green tea sitting by the brightest window.
1 comment:
Ahhh, yes. "I can only write after smoking 1/2 pack of cigarettes at 2 a.m." Told myself that MANY times. But how beautiful the mind is when fueled by rest and health!
Love it...
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