On Creativity

Reposted with permission

“Every act of creation is first of all an act of destruction.”
Pablo Picasso

by Stan Chung

We have moved so many times that there are boxes that I have yet to open. These darn boxes just get moved from house to house. I recently opened one of these boxes, and I found something that I didn’t quite expect: my father’s writing journal.

My father died a few years ago, and I must have packed up the blue cloth binder along with all those things I couldn’t bear to throw away: boxes of sermons, manual typewriter, and theology books. This particular journal begins exactly twenty years ago in the summer of 1988.

In one poem he writes about me:
This is a poem about my son Stan.
Whom I have hurt a thousand
times...

My father began the journal when he was fifty-seven years old. He had tried to find another position as a United Church minister, but no church said yes. My parents lived in a one bedroom condominium in Metrotown. He spent his days pursuing writing, driving my mother to and from work, and feeling lonely and useless.

He rarely shared much of his inner life with me, so his journal is a revelation. The words tell me a great deal about his despair, isolation, and fears. The journal also tells me a great deal about myself, too, because in many ways my father’s struggles are my own.

The sky may be blue, the water sparkling, and the sun warm but there are many, like my father, who have difficulty escaping their darker emotions. We all have difficult feelings, but we also know sometimes it’s difficult not to give in to despair.

My father’s journal cries out desperately for creative expression. He writes that he never explored his creative potential. He saw this final stage of his life as an opportunity to explore what he calls “unborn” talent.

We all possess creative talent, and in many of us, there is a strong urge to be creative, to express ourselves in meaningful ways. I see these deep longings in everyone. No matter who we are or how old we are, we long to express ourselves.

But where to begin?

Well, maybe I should know. After all, I have been a creative person all my life. I chose a creative career and consider myself a creative professional which means that I utilize a creative process in my work. But all of us, those who write music, design objects, shape sculptures, click photographs, write novels, or put form to canvas, will tell you the same thing about creativity: it’s about emotional risk, more specifically facing your fears.

I will tell you the honest truth: every time I face the blank page, I turn myself inside out. Creative people become expert at accessing their vulnerabilities: it’s what allows the creation of serious long-lasting art; it’s what allows the real truth to be uncovered; it’s what make being creative addictive, exhilarating, and painful.

Emotional risk is what I do as an artist. I pick away at memory. I focus intensely on what I don’t understand. At my best and most courageous, I plunge into my own fears.

Of course, not all creative people are into this type of torture, but many understand that in order to find truth and beauty, you have to work at it. I know many budding artists who want to produce that hit record, beautiful painting, or unforgettable screenplay without understanding that the creative process requires one to be true to the landscape of soul, not the shrill of the marketplace.

Creative people, especially those who haven’t yet found their medium or a confidence in exploring their own sense of expression, often find it difficult to begin. After all, what is a more awesome task than facing the proverbial blank canvas?

If you want to put pressure on someone, tell him or her this: “you’re fortunate, you have the freedom to do or achieve whatever you want.” Instead of this, you might ask questions like this: what kinds of experiences have you had that filled with you with the most joy? What have you done in your life that occupied you to the maximum and made time melt away?

Be careful not discount anybody’s answers to these questions. Being creative is absolutely not the province of what our society deems as artistically valuable. Any task can be accomplished with creativity. An artist isn’t someone who necessary sells the work; an artist can be someone who pursues enlightenment through any task or activity. I have met artists who were engineers, teachers, gardeners, lawyers, parents, welders, and salespeople.

When it comes to expressing yourself as an artist, it’s not what you do, but how you do it. Creative people often utilize a process that helps them explores ideas, choices, and questions. My own process is really quite simple: first I write down as freely as possible every single possibility I can collect. I take this brainstorming phase more seriously than most. I have notebooks filled with brainstorming, clustering, note taking, and doodling.

The second phase is questioning. Without choosing a possibility, I begin asking questions. Here is where you really have to listen to your feelings and not just your analytical side. I ask questions that have to do with assessing the depth of an idea or choice. I ask myself what scares me the most. Also, I look for things that others might throw away. For example, I consciously seek misunderstanding, confusion and doubt. These areas are like gold mines. What you think you understand is often the last place to find your treasure. Instead, go exactly where a person like you would never look.

The act of creation seems like the first stage to many, but it is really the last stage. My family knows that an artist works at the oddest times and in the oddest ways. I take notes in the movie theatre. I speak into my tape recorder in the middle of the night. My wife will tell you that I, the grumpiest soul in the world, takes looking out the window very seriously.

Unfortunately, I never had a discussion with my father about these things. I read his journal now, and I feel how afraid he was about exploring his own soul. I wonder how many people out there want and need to explore their artistic potential. If you do, I encourage you to share your desire with someone you care about. Beyond fear, there is great freedom, accomplishment, and joy.

Stan Chung is a writer and Associate Dean of Arts and Foundational Programs at Okanagan College in Kelowna. He is a former Prince George resident and instructor at the College of New Caledonia. Email: StanChung [at] gmail [dot] com