Art Schmart

Take yourself on an artist date.

I read that snippet of advice a few months ago in Julia Cameron’s book The Creative Life, and I read it again last night in the opening chapter of another of her books: The Sound of Paper: Starting from Scratch. I stopped by the library yesterday and picked up that one and another of Cameron’s books called The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity. When I dropped them onto the kitchen counter Brad glanced at the titles. “Having a little creativity problem?” he asked.

Why yes, in fact, I am.

So Cameron suggests that once a week I take myself on an artist date, that I set time aside to “nurture my creative consciousness.”

“In order to make art, we must first make an artful life,” advises Cameron, “a life rich enough and diverse enough to give us fuel.”

Art schmart.

I admit, I often roll my eyes when I hear talk about “art” and “artists.” I’ve always pooh-poohed the idea about making space for the creative spirit to grow. What a bunch of hogwash. It all sounds so self-absorbed and new-agey, like I should wear a long floral skirt and braid daisies into my [grey] hair. Like I should take up meditation and burn incense, too. Nothing against meditation or incense or daisies and long skirts … but they’re just not me. I don’t have time to refuel my creative spirit, or “take my artist on a date.” That’s for “other” creative types, not me. I’m more the "get 'er done" type.

So from 6 a.m. to 8:30 p.m. that’s what I do. I run from one activity and obligation to the next: get the boys up and ready for school, churn out fundraising materials at work, pick up the boys from school, swing by the post office and Walgreens, throw in a load of laundry, help Rowan with his reading homework, do dinner dishes, fold laundry, wrap up the bedtime routine, tidy the house. And then I settle into my desk chair, fingers poised on the keyboard.

So do you want to know how that’s working out for me? I’ll simply say that “get 'er done” works fabulously…until you fizzle out like a Fourth of July sparkler and are left feeling like a smoking, blackened metal stick.

The thing is, no one can run ragged and then sit down after a 14-hour day and expect lyrical prose to bloom. That frenetic method may work for a while, but it can’t be sustained indefinitely. At least not by me.

So I’m beginning to think perhaps Julia Cameron is on to something with her “artist date” malarkey. The fact is, don’t we all need to create a little margin, a bit of white space in our harried lives? Isn’t that what God means by “be still?”

Time to breathe in the fresh scent of apple blossoms.

Time to stare out the window at the cardinal pecking sunflower seeds from the grass.

Time to relish a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream with chocolate sauce and really taste it.

Time to stroll, yes stroll, through an art gallery and fantasize about which painting you’d buy if you had the money.

I suspect these “artist dates” (or whatever you want to call them…perhaps “white space” is a more comfortable phrase for me) water the cracked and withered soul. I suspect that a small space carved between the mad dash to the post office and proofing the marketing brochure serves to replenish the spirit. And I suspect Julia Cameron has learned this through first-hand experience.

So what’s your idea of the perfect artist date (or white space, if you prefer)?

** Note: You might notice that I installed a new comment format called Disqus. It enables me to reply to comments right here on the blog. Not that I won't continue to visit you at your place...but this method does allow for some conversation and connection without me running around like a crazed chicken. Because, you know, too much of that and I'll need to take myself on a daily artist date! Or, egads, a whole retreat!