Creative Courage

My older son is an artist. When he was little, he used to enjoy putting together and painting models. Airplanes were his favorites. When he was a bit older, he would customize the paint job on a generic model to make it look like the specific airplane or helicopter he wanted to duplicate. On one occasion, he researched and replicated something my Dad would have known well when he served in Vietnam.

More recently, my son has developed and expanded on his painting skills and techniques to focus on painting pieces for a particular game with an international following and some pretty passionate fans. I’ve watched him learn and explore his creativity over these last few years. As his former home school teacher and a fellow maker, it’s been thrilling to witness. As his mom, I’m slightly more ambivalent, because the kid is especially good with depicting blood and gore. Boys.

We were chatting the other day about an element of his work where he sees a need for improvement. He was telling me about what the process for that might entail (some equipment, a little interior remodeling for the purposes of ventilation, etc.) when he said:

“…and I basically have to decide if I’m ready to suck at something for a while until I get good at it.”

I laughed at the blunt assessment, but he nailed the heart of the matter, didn’t he? He knows the only way to master a skill is to start as a beginner. And beginners do not have the best of success ratios, do they? It takes courage to intentionally put yourself on a path of frustration and failure, even when you know it’s temporary.

My other son is presenting a paper at a conference as a first-year doctoral student this week. As an introduction to graduate school in his first semester, he participated in an excercise that involved learning how to find calls for papers. Under a professor’s guidance, he decided to go ahead and submit a class paper. It was accepted, and he travelled several states away to present it and submit his thoughts to the critique of faculty and fellow students whose interests intersect with the subject matter. It takes no small amount of courage for a young student to open themselves up to criticism, even if he knows it will make him better.

While cleaning out a box earlier this week, I came across a folder of my early school and artwork that my parents had faithfully kept for half a million years. In it, I found the book I had written when I was about 5, I think, and absolutely convinced I would grow up to be a paleontologist. Not only did I write it, I illustrated it. With confidence.

Early art education books tell us that children have to learn to be insecure about what they can and can’t do in the world of the arts. Children naturally draw, sing, make up stories, play pretend, and are infinitely creative. It’s only as we get older and more self-aware that we decide we can’t do those things “well enough” or that we’ve grown out of them.

I think those pockets of artistic expression are still there within all of us, and part of being a healthy human is expressing that creative side of ourselves. Consider the popularity of adult coloring books, karaoke, adult art classes, community theatres, garden clubs, and adult music ensembles. Entire TV channels are devoted to cooking, home and garden renovation and decoration, and crafting. We crave creativity, no matter our age.

And yet sometimes, creativity requires courage. It may be courage to finally start something new you’ve always wanted to try. It may be taking on a challenging new skill in a creative process where you’re already comfortable. It may be acknowedging that you need to relearn the way you’ve been doing something because you know there’s a better way.

Ultimately, it means being willing to be vulnerable. To be honest enough to say, “I don’t know how.” To look for someone who can help you and be humble enough to say, “Would you please help me?” or, “What do you think about this?” To be okay with stinking at something for a while until you get good at it.

It may be as easy as looking something up online. It could be going to your local library and asking one of the Super Heroes (otherwise known as librarians) to guide you to the best resources. It might be visiting your local hardware, garden, or yarn shop and asking to speak to an expert or setting up an appointment or lesson. It may be signing up for a class.

However it looks, it’s a courageous move. One that claims and celebrates your creativity. And like most skills, I believe it becomes easier with practice.

Someone near and dear to me reminds me sometimes that every decision is a vote for the person you want to become. I’d like to become a more creative and courageous person. How about you?

What could you create courageously today?

Happy knitting!

Kiersten J