paper-cut stitches

Observed.

2009-11-02T10:25:00.000-08:00

A few observations to keep you going:

When you smile, you don't know you're smiling. When you frown, or just neutral or whatever, you don't think about it.

But when you half-smile, you know you're half smiling. Right right? I'm a half-smiler. A chuckler. Cynical. But really fucking happy. Half-smiler.

Also, there's a big couch half-way up Mount Tolmie. It's upside down. Upside down! What do you make of that? What is an upside down couch good for?

Also, "mandala" is red-underlined. Why wouldn't "mandala" be a word? And "mandalic" is the adjective.

AND my LAMP is LOUD. That's annoying. Like a fizzling eeeeeeeee sound coming from it. Like a bug. Like something's living up there. Like the sound Scout made today up Mount Tolmie when he got himself tangled up in his leash, and then continued to spin and spin as if that would HELP him outa the mess. EEE EEEEE EEEE EEEE

I'm mandalic. And stressed out. Gawwwwd.....

We'll eat you up,

2009-10-25T10:34:00.001-07:00

we love you so!

So last weekend (yes, this is delayed), a crowd of friends and I went to go see Where the Wild Things Are, the Spike Jonze adaptation of the kiddie book, one of my favourites.

Creative act: CROWN MAKING. No joke, there was a crown making station right there spot in the middle of SilverCity. My friends and I just looked at each other like

Um, yes(!).

And off we went.

My favourite moment was after we'd finished up our creations and Hal, looking disappointedly at his crown, realized he still had work to do, and rushed back to apply more sequins/stickers/construction paper. Yes, you can be a perfectionist with your artsy-crafty-made-for-babes project. Go on, take some more stickers from the kids, I DARE YOU. And he was standing down there, all innocent, like get outa my way, you know my crown is gonna be better than your crown.

Advice? See the opportunity and go for it, even if the target demographic is under seven. You'll be surprised how much fun you'll have.

"so pretty in the sky"

2009-10-08T08:37:00.000-07:00

I am not a photographer, but wow.

James and I had some time to kill before the 305 screening (the final result of my Animate me. creative act) last night. When we first got off the bus, there was pink all around. I swear to god, it was like we were in a fucking watercolour painting or something. With watered out pink over everything. Unreal.

I took the photo with my blackberry. Nothing special. And truth be told, this does not do the evening justice. Sometimes I think the act of creativity is merely an attempt to grasp and sort-of-fossilize our world. It's pretty fucking insane that we even have a planet Earth with all these little PEOPLE who TALK TO EACH OTHER and eat chop suey, and, like, drive cars around to JOBS. We wear clothes, too. And bracelets. What the fuck? That's weird, and if anyone tries to tell you otherwise, they're the insane ones, not you. I swear to god.

I have a hard time contemplating why anyone would need to be "forced" to be creative (ie Patricia James's Learning Creativity: A Case Study) - or, at least, taken out of their comfort zone and put into a "creative one" - when there's so much in this world to leave you wide-eyed and salivating. My question is how did she (Case-study-Sara) avoid it for so long.

Ah, the Urge. I do feel lucky, but I need to remind myself how lucky I am.

creatus creare crescere criar creole

2009-10-06T23:13:00.000-07:00

now say that ten times fast!

The inspiration for this blog came from one of the readings -erm- viewing for this week entitled Picasso is painting, a short of Picasso painting a fish turned rooster turned etcetera-monster-etcetera.

The word that came to my mind while watching was CREATURE! And then I thought, hm, creative being, hm, "creative" sounds like "creature" and then I had to take out my trusty dictionary of word origins and true enough, there is NO entry for "creativity" but there is an entry for "creature," which to me, indicates that creativity, like human beings, has evolved. At first, our creativity was creation in itself. ie babies. Especially since the Latin creatus is the past participle of creare or "produce" (which in turn may have been a causative derivative of the verb crescere "grow," source of English crescent). (1)

So, what we have here are many more "bubbles" to Jenny's Creativity diagram. We have

creature creator produce grow breed nurse and (oddly) crescent

These are what we're up against. I think the nutshell here, if it's possible to see a nutshell of any kind, is that to be creative is to work towards the development of something. And I may very well stir up all kinds of ruckus from that self-made definition, but go on, try me. The "something" doesn't have to be concrete. It can be abstract, it can be figurative. It can be an inhalation, but it better be a good one.

So my creative-act-goal (which I haven't really been doing.. I've been kinda just been running with the Urge - yes, capitalized) is to create a similar sort of project for myself. I would like to create a creature in some form of visual art. My mum and my sister are both incredible visual artists, but I don't seem to have the knack, but I do enjoy doing it, so it shall be a creative act for the sake of being creative and enjoying myself.

I am going to call it The Creative Creature Project. Pastels will likely be involved.

1. Ayoto, John. The Dictionary of Word Origins. Arcade Publishing, New York: 1990. 144.

ride on THE MAGIC SCHOOL BUS

2009-10-06T20:47:00.000-07:00

Today was my drama workshop. My script was discussed today.

Talk to anyone in the writing department about their opinion on the workshop process and being workshopped themselves, and they'll proceed to drown you in thoughts, inhibitions, tears and itches about their experience, what they think of the process, etc. Thus, I am going to proceed with discussion on my opinion of the workshop process.

Not because it relates (at all/even a little bit) to Fine Arts 100, but it does, however, relate completely to creative being. Well, to revolutionary creativity at least. In the UVIC Writing Department, students seek out opinions and input of their work from other students and professors. Not only is it mandatory to do so if you want to graduate with a degree in writing, but you have to want to workshop if you have even a smidgen of hope for success. The bottom line? You can't do it alone. At least, not initially.

And that sounds much more doom-and-gloom than I mean it to, but it, again, relates to what I've talked about in previous posts about the importance of collective creation - I suppose workshopping could be considered a version of that. Again, especially important for a department full of introverts. Personally, I'm not a fan of co-writing, but I believe wholeheartedly that the acceptance of others opinions is essential to the process. There is nothing like having fresh eyes on a piece to show you what is working, and what isn't.

I've always looked forward to my workshop days - the days when I bring in something for everyone to talk about. I like listening to others opinions, whether I ultimately decide to utilize those opinions or not.

Joan, the drama writing professor for our fourth year workshop, talked to the class about leaving the workshop feeling "inspired." I know I don't always leave feeling inspired, but I certainly did today. I felt like I had so much writing to get into and drown in, like I had a world spilling out of my nostrils and I had to leave really really fast so that I could get out and use a kleenex before anyone noticed how disgusting I looked (bad analogy. I just went with it).

Plus, I left with some pretty spec-tac ideas. Just a solid reminder of how privileged I feel to be in such a supportive environment where anything goes, where I can admit to watching Degrassi in my free time and not feel like a complete dork... or at least be okay with my dorky-ness. I go to class and drink coffee and talk about writing for three hours. And it flies by.

The best part? Workshopping works. Seriously. I compare my writing now to my writing in first year and it's virtually unrecognizable. Which is SO EXCITING. And I don't even know how it happened. It's not just about hearing from others about your own stuff - it's about giving feedback, forming opinions, and recognizing for yourself what is working and what isn't working in other people's work. The whole goddamn package.

Too cool.

He's snoring as I write this

2009-10-02T23:09:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows me knows that I reference my puppy (who is actually a DOG?!) multiple times daily.

His name is Scout. He's great. And I love him.

So, as a creative act, I decided to film something that happens every day but nobody sees. Other people might find it just a little bit adorable. And, if not, I hide behind the but he's my puppy. And I love him excuse. Which will be EXTREMELY apparent when you hear the height-of-all-high-pitch-heights my voice reaches when I talk to him.

Here's the backstory. Every night, Scout falls asleep before I do (obviously), and then I have to wake him up to go outside for a pee before I go to sleep, you know, so that he doesn't wake up MMMM MMMMMMMM-ing in the middle of the night (sorry, that's the best recordation I could do of his dreaded-horrible-why-can't-he-please-stop-WHINE).

I don't know what I was thinking tonight when I assumed that in his two-year-old mentality, he would be able to understand multiple directions at once, but I tried anyhow. I included the "wanna go out for a pee" and the "get a treat" in the same command.

This is the result:

Up- up -

Oh, nope, can't make it.

And then he looks at me like "Can't you just bring me the treat?"

I have an idea

2009-10-02T22:54:00.001-07:00

... and I'm keeping it in my hands.

I wanted to record something on this manner because of my tutorial discussion this week. Jenny drew some bubbles on the board with creativity being the big one. She drew the connecting bubbles which often come up when people talk about creativity, and then, before you know it, because creativity is so broad and what-not, people are talking about that thing, and not creativity at all. Anyway, one of those connecting bubbles was inspiration.

(beat) I think. If memory serves me correctly. Sometimes it doesn't.

REGARDLESS, inspiration came up in conversation. We talked about it being one of the deciding factors for qualifying creativity, if it's possible. We discussed mundane activities - like knitting a sweater from a pattern, or playing guitar just for the fun of it, and if those activities should be considered "creative."

Conclusion: the difference is the URGE. Ooooh the masterful urge of creativity. AKA inspiration AKA godsend. I mean really. 'Cause, you know, I could get away with not playing my guitar one day, just as Jenny didn't have to knit that sweater - we just wanted to do those things. It would be fun. Good for the mind, good for the soul, sometimes even productive.

But creativity. I mean, real honest-to-goodness creativity... that comes because there's no choice. You have to do it. No questions, no debate. It just is. And the reason for that?

INSPIRATION, BATMAN.

I love inspiration. This is a timely post. Later on that day, after my tutorial, I came up with a brilliant idea, something I'm considering for a Masters degree. And I'm so excited about it! Not really ready to let the cricket outa the terrarium yet, but I would like to emphasize how wonderful it is to be inspired and to know that this inspiration will lead me somewhere.

It always does.

Animate Me.

2009-09-27T14:21:00.000-07:00

So this weekend and last weekend, I've been helping out some friends in the film production class by acting in their film. The stop motion-animation-live action hybrid is written and directed by Meghan Bell, a stop motion genius, so when I was told to fight with a blanket, or suck my thumb, I didn't really think twice.

My character's name is Susan. Susan is sad. Susan has no friends. And when Susan tries to draw a friend, she is devoured by paper - no joke.

They're gonna make me a star.

To be honest, I found the project really refreshing. I've been acting for the screen since I was 14. Truth be told, I'm just not very good, even if I do love the hell out of it. With this project, I was able to really get childish (and those who know me know that's my forte... as in the forte's mine)... and overact! Being trained in film for so long, I've never been able to overact before... plus, I've never really known how. I don't know, maybe it's age or something. Somehow, letting loose has gotten easier for me in the past few years. I think I just care less about appearances. Man, that feels good.

I've was a bit distracted today, I'm not gonna lie. In large part, this is because I've spent the last few days in a writing frenzy since I have a screenplay due for workshop on Tuesday. Thing is, doing projects like this one, particularly film, flourish on collective creation. I think there's something truly inspirational about groups working on artistic projects with a central goal in mind. As a writer, I tend to be pretty introverted and I can spend endless hours working alone, but collective creation - that's where I love to go out and show myself.

Explorations in "Mundane Creativity"

2009-09-24T17:40:00.000-07:00

Ah, the classical guitar. My trusty guit-box. Nylon strings. I've perfected the harmonics. A big dent in the top of the body from when I accidentally picked you up in the case without locking it and then proceeded to have a hysterical fit that made my face explode into a mesh of measles.

I've given a lot of thought to what Jodi said on Monday about "mundane creativity" versus "revolutionary creativity" and I've concluded that, even for the revolutionary artist (though, I must admit, calling myself that makes me feel a bit like an ego-star), it's pretty important to participate in some forms of mundane creativity in order to keep your sanity.

I was about 10 when I first started taking lessons, and for a long time, I was obsessed. I used to play in concerts, at the legislature, hospitals, all over. As I got older, other art forms - specifically writing and acting - peeked my interest more, but I never stopped playing. Although, you'd be pretty deluded to think that I'd ever play in public again. Ever. In my life. Did I mention I don't play in public anymore?

But that's OKAY. I always get a look of pity from people when I make a mention that I play guitar, but I'm not very good. "Oh, you've been playing for so long. You must be good." No. I'm not. And please will YOU STOP MAKING ME FEEL GUILTY ABOUT THAT ALREADY.

I think society is way too focused on being perfect and exceptional at art. It's like, if you're not exceptional, what's the point? But there is a point. A very big point. SANITY is the point.

Sure, playing guitar coulda been my "thing" - it coulda been as integral to me as writing, but I'm kind of happy it's not. For me, music is like meditation. When I play guitar, I'm doing it to ease my (overactive) mind. And it works. It calms me down.

And it's FUN. Who knew?

Spongey.

2009-09-22T21:58:00.001-07:00

So last night we had Dr. Jodi Bain join us in class. It was fantastic. I paid attention for 2 hours straight - a record for me since I have no attention span (which I discovered in class last night might be as a result of a hyper-attention span. ADHD. Come on, can't you see it?).

I found a lot of what she touched on really fascinating- from mental illness and the artistic temperament, to drug/alcohol abuse, to creativity in toddlers and young people, to birth order - all right up my alley, all really interesting to me... which might also be a result of my egotistical artistic temperament going OH THAT'S ME OH THAT'S ME OH THAT'S ME.

And it is.

For I truly believe that I am a producer of REVOLUTIONARY CREATIVITY. AKA GENIUS. NO BIG DEAL.

After the bike ride home, I had to sit down and have a little chat with myself about this hoity-toity attitude I've been developing.

Truthfully, I think part of my intrigue last night was in learning about the mentality of the artist. Alas, the lecture catered to my (usually) masked self-absorption. And I'm sure, at least I hope, I wasn't alone in that regard. The assumption is that I wouldn't be alone in this, considering this is a class called CREATIVE BEING. Being, at least in what I've read of philosophy, being the self, right? Sort of verb-if-ied?

Anyway, after that little talk I started to think about the cause and effect of this self-absorption. Conclusions being this: It is undeniably integral that the artist be just a little bit full of themselves to make up for the time they spend in a slew of self-hatred contemplating their terrible fate. It is also integral, given the nature of work for the revolutionary artist, that they have a thick enough skin to be able to handle criticism, however rough. And handling it includes working with it for the betterment of the project at hand.

I also found myself pining for the lost creativity in our youth. Oh Jodi, please don't tell me it's disappearing. If creativity truly is disintegrating in young people, will there still be a place for creative people to go? Will it gradually become less and less acceptable to create as the years go on?

I think about what my childhood would have been like without imaginary play and creativity... and then I feel kind of sorry for the kiddies. Without imaginary play and creativity, childhood wouldn't have been worth it.

Tuppence a Bag

2009-09-19T10:00:00.000-07:00

I had a bit of a heated conversation with a friend of mine, also an artist, yesterday about putting a price on art. Her stance was that the amount on the price tag is representative of the respect you give yourself and the value you put to your work. As an artist, she said, you combine your work with a business side.

As a writer, that kind of thinking isn't quite as relevant. The truth is, I will probably write hundreds of thousands of millions of words that'll never even make it to the eyes of a possible publication. And the fraction of the ones that do that actually publish me aren't going to pay me very much.

It might be argued that I write for myself, and not for others, whereas a painter might paint to create an image for the walls of another person's home. But that's not how I see it. There are many reasons I create, and yes, personal enjoyment and fulfillment is a huge part of it.

So I suppose the question is, who is it all for?

I don't have an answer to that one. Everyone has their reasons, but I do know that if I was really interested in making money, I probably wouldn't be in the field that I'm in. My priorities are in another place. I know that, in some respect, priorities are always in money - obviously I'm not going to be writing very much if I'm lying at my desk decaying from lack of nutrients. That's just not how it works. But surely it must be true that artists don't create with the idea of selling or publishing in mind - that comes later.

And, when it does come, does the amount of digits really indicate the value of your work? It could. Take into account our current economic times. Not many people can throw $1000 on a piece when they're worried about sending their little-bits to preschool, however much they love the work, however much they would love to bring it home, put it up on their walls, and get the chance to look at it every single day.

It is important to remember that it does cost money to make art, and it does cost time. Breaking even, making a profit, is ideal. But I do think we would create regardless.

For me, writing is something I have to do - it isn't a choice. And I do want people to see my plays - that is incredibly important to me. In a way, more important than making a profit. I wrote a theatre for young audiences play for the Fringe Festival a couple of years ago, charged pretty low ticket-wise. After all, it was a children's play, and I wanted parents to bring their kids.

My priorities aren't really in the dollars, but the audience.

And who knows, I could fail miserably because of this, end up moving back in with my parents at the age of 45 and have to work at Cineplex in order to generate even a fraction of a paycheck while my children do child labour on an organic blueberry farm... but at least my portfolio would be sky-high?

Thank you, very good film. Tomorrow, I'd like to share it with you

2009-09-17T10:43:00.001-07:00

end quote.

Um, yeah. So, these words were painted in flowered detail on my wall in the bedroom of the house I grew up in for 18 years. It might sound angsty, it might sound ridiculous, it might sound nada, but in those years, it meant something to me. Mostly, because my friends and I penciled it on my wall when we were stoned out of our skulls and that meant that it pretty much must be pure brilliance.

I could tap into the reasoning behind it, but I'm gonna try not to. The emotional roller coaster I used to take myself on in my teen years was a result of just a few things: self-hatred, self-hatred, and smoking pot. And you want to know the killer? I think I smoked pot to hate myself just a little bit more.

I know.

And you might think it's ridiculous to bring all this up, especially now, when anyone who knows me knows I'm pretty content with the way things are (specifically, who I am), but I got about two paragraphs into the reading for Creative Being today and I felt the nerve to write a bit of a comment on it. The article is "Pharmacological and expected effects of alcohol" by William M. Lapp and pretty much discusses how artists abuse substances in order to get their juices flowing.

Truth be told, I'm not innocent, but I did grow out of that oh, when I was 19 or so and began to look at all my stoned writings and realized how utterly pitiful they were.

For example: "I wish I could love myself like I love the paper and motion of my hand" and "so-and-so and so-and-so and so-and-so are all one because there are strings that keep them together. Strings of voice and strings of love. Connected by memory, tires on a road. Friendship is nothing"and "my existence is heightened by my disappearance."

I thought I was a fucking genius. Literally half of my journal is filled with this kind of bullshit. Nothing concrete, just me, floating around in some sort of otherworld. I felt alive because I hated myself. I assume that's what it's like for most teenagers.

I do know people that can manage to smoke/drink some and write up a storm, but I know I'm not one of them. I work best in the early hours of the morning, the hours my teenage self slept through after a night of genius.

Ha!

All that aside, my heart goes out to my teenage self, and all teens, actually. I have a fascination with those years and the time and energy spent slaving away to try and figure ourselves out.

Word on the Block

2009-09-15T21:16:00.000-07:00

After digesting what I could of what was discussed in class last night, I'm left bothered by only one component:

writer's block.

Also known as a the worst hell ever imaginable ever at any time EVER.

Also known as an irreconcilable mistake-of-a-term ever to come into the minds of any human being at any time ever.

Also known as a myth.

At least, that's what I've tried to ingrain in myself over the past few years as my writing has gone through its rebellious youth. Writer's block is a myth. It has to be. And if I sound like I'm trying to convince myself of this, then colour me caught (bah humbug Writer's block is not a myth, and we are all going to fall shamefully into its ebony hole and suffocate in the mandragora shrieks of our undying wordless sorrows... bah humbug bah humbug).

I confess, it is true. Listening to Madeline speak about writer's block yesterday actually stressed me out (take note of the itty-bitty triggers it takes to stress me out), and not because I don't believe her, but because I do. And the act of believing her... well, it robs me of my words, if you want to know the truth. I literally sat there and began to wonder if the very act of listening to this shpeel would make me self-induce writers block (AKA the worst hell ever imaginable at any time ever) upon myself.

But, obviously that's crazy. (beat. Right? Right?)

So I've decided to take a more utilitarian approach to my self-proclaimed saga. In other words, accept that these thoughts have happened, accept that there is a possibility of - gulp - writer's block coming face-to-face with my pseudo-innocent being, accept that it exists, and move on. Just move on.

And keep moving.

The Beginning

2009-09-14T22:31:00.000-07:00

Today was the first class of Fine Arts 100, Creative Being. I've had many discussions about this class prior to today, mostly they went something like this:

MysteriousOtherPerson: So what are you taking this semester?

Me: Got a pretty good course load. A drama workshop, structure of TV class, applied theatre... Oh, and I'm taking Peter's class - "creative being." Don't bother asking me about it.

MysteriousOtherPerson: What? "Creative being"? What is that?

Me: No seriously. I don't know anything about it. Don't ask me.

MysteriousOtherPerson: But what is it? What are you going to do?

Me: NO SERIOUSLY. I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING. DON'T ASK ME.

(Cue: Me being kind of angry and contemplating my decision to enroll in a brand new first year course in my fourth year of university when I am actively elective-izing.)

Well, I can safely say that I survived the first day. The energy in the class was somewhat anxiety-filled. Let's put it this way: At one point, I became aware of the fact that my dog and I had a cuddle earlier and that, at that moment, half the class might have actually been allergic to me.

Luckily, my anxiety wasn't full blown (but I definitely wish I'd lint-rolled my leggings), and I was able to come to my senses and enjoy the rest of class.

It seems like it's going to be right up my alley. I make a point of being creative in almost every aspect of my life, so I guess that's a start. I know my challenge will be in reaching out to others to collectively create... I can be kinda shy. It hits me at uncontrollable times, therefore I worry that I'm going to be shy and avoid uncomfortable situations before the shyness has even set in. Make sense?

But what I do know is this: art has the most power when minds work together. There is nothing more satisfying than collective creation.

And on that note, nothing more satisfying than creative fulfillment.