Circling the drain is a term that is most often seen as negative, because where do drains go? To the sewer with other cast off and unwanted waste. But today, I see myself as circling the drain of my artistry—or whatever is at the core of it. I see my visual art as a core part of me, but for the past few years, it’s been hard for me to create. I see writing as a core part of me, but for the past stretch of time, I use it more methodically than emotionally. It’s like the pile of have-to’s and sacrifices of life obscure the heart of the matter—the why of creating.

I’ve been on a path to reclaim that fire, the deep desire to create just to create. It’s taken me unplugging from work, participating in self-development workshops, and then returning to reflection—through breathwork, movement, discussion, and journaling—again and again and again to reach under the surface of this artmaking thing.

What is rising to the surface is a need for me to go deeper. My assessment of my work, of whether or not my art is “working,” whether or not the writing is “working,” is not the point. The point is in the expression and the point is in what the expression does to and for me. Making art is, first and foremost, a great gift to myself. That is because self-expression is core to human wellness. Whether or not a piece of art I made looks good, it is good because it feeds my soul. Whether or not a chapter or a poem reads well or sounds good, it is good because it allowed me to use my voice.

I have been obsessively looking at the thing—the output, the value, the profitability, the genius, what it says about me, how much closer it gets me to my dream. But I haven’t really paid attention to what the thing does to me and for me. When I make work just “in order to.” In order to fit in my dreams, in order to get me free, in order to pave the way for my future, then I become in service of the product, I become a producer. When I make work to feel the sensation of creativity, of stringing words, color, shapes, patterns together, then I feed myself.

It feels great to have this theoretical concept of artmaking as a gift in place, but the proof is in the pudding. I have paintings that progress and then sit untouched for months. Because I’m judging the work, or judging my ability to do the work. My prayer is that working through this new lens, I can complete canvas—even though I don’t know where the canvases will go or who will ever see them or if the faces I paint  look “unnatural.” My prayer is that I will keep writing poems—even if they never get beyond a first draft. Because the poems are literally playing with words in service of expressing my heart.

Creativity is a gift and it’s so hard to remain in the giftness of it. We want a successful piece of art. We want it to contribute to our careers and our bottom line. I’m not saying I don’t want that, but I am saying the most important thing my creativity can do for me is to be expressed, be playful, be imperfect, be bold, be quiet… just be. At base line, for my mental, emotional, and spiritual health, I need my creativity to exist. Everything else is extra, or just lagniappe as we say in New Orleans.

Strength to your creative efforts. Hope you can create with a little tenderness towards the gift today.

Onward,

—K.