Final Project: Write Up

This is the last step of my final project: the two paintings that I have been working on. Overall, while I may not be exceptionally happy with the product itself just now, I have hope for what I know it will become over the next few weeks. More importantly, I am thrilled with what the project has meant for me personally, professionally and creatively.

The project was meant to stem from our personal plan for creativity, but nowhere in my plan does it suggest I would do an art project. It does, however, set the goal of spending roughly an hour in the weekday evenings on a creative pursuit. This did not happen consistently, until the few weeks before the project came due. Then I began to spend these small chunks of time on my painting... sort of. I studied, I researched, I planned, I practiced technique on test sheets, but I could not bring myself to mar the white canvas until I had a solid chunk of time to really 'get into' the work.

I learned that the plans I had made to become someone who could dedicate consistent small chunks of time to a project in order to complete it may actually be quite counterintuitive. I was more compelled to immerse myself, to lose track of time and spend much larger chunks. One Sunday and the subsequent snow day Monday were my most productive hours because of this chance to spend the entire day, so long as I felt the inspiration I needed. Interestingly, at the end of the Sunday, I was soaring. I could see the painting coming together. I liked the textures and the natural flow of the pieces. On Monday, I overworked them. I ended up trying to make them more full, make them say too much, make them more realistic, rather than the abstract or impressionistic aesthetic I had originally planned for them.

This helped me to realize something about me and my perhaps misguided goals. I am not good at dedicating consistent small chunks of time to something such that it is mostly completed before deadline, allowing for final tweaking. This is just the ideal that I think I've bought into that our society has taught me. Somehow, we've come to see the person who works in fits and starts, in creative bursts and at strange hours, rushing to deadline, as a inferior worker or a person of limited self-control. However, there are, I'm coming to believe, those of us who undermine ourselves by trying to force an unnatural work process. Consider my paper: had I simply spent the usual mad rush in completing it, I believe I would be more satisfied with the product. Instead, I asked for an extension and then I played with it in small chunks of time. I became unfocused and ineffective, spending a lot more time overall than I would have normally and being, as I said, unsatisfied with the work anyway. That Monday with the painting was the same. Because I had already spent the better part of Sunday on it, I had the creative flow of immersion on my side. I knew that another couple of hours spent on the ceramic branches the following evening, and then the painting of those the evening after would give me what I wanted. But when we had the snow day, I saw it as an opportunity to tweak, and I ended up overworking it to the point of disliking the overall product so much that I didn't even get to the branches. The Tuesday was spent trying to recapture the simplicity and beauty that I had lost by not sticking to the schedule that allowed for what I know see as a healthy and productive stress, a state of tension that helps me make smart decisions and work effectively.

So I am left with the feeling that while I didn't follow my plan completely, I did so enough to learn something valuable about myself and about what I may want to change about my plan. Maybe my giving into what would be seen as poor time-management by most anyone, my surrendering to the late nights and stressful bursts, will be my personal "Faustian bargain" if I am to create actual products (in writing, painting...anything, really, that it project oriented) that I am happy with.

I felt like the project did stem from the personal plan in an unexpected way. As I read through the plan, I see an underlying theme of family and keeping it central in my creative priorities. This project certainly did that. In fact, it became quite symbolic of that. It was a way of finishing the house that had been Barry and my co-creative project for so long. It recognized the tree motif that I had naturally been drawn to as I decorated the house, and it now helped me understand why I had wanted that symbol to permeate my surroundings: it was symbolic of the very family I wanted to be the center of this home. It represented growth, struggle, branching out, and the fruition of love. I am at a point where I feel we are 'harvesting' after years of toil, and the bounty is so beautiful, so worth the effort. I wanted to capture all of that, and the project became a means for this and, really, quite a therapeutic and cathartic process.

Definite barriers in my process included the struggle with effective use of time, which I've already addressed, but also with my own inhibitions. I found myself very afraid of the project. I admitted openly that I lacked the confidence to make those first brush strokes. At one point in my life, as an undergrad art minor, I would have had no problem with confidence in my skills, but I have experienced painful and embarrassingly public lessons (a botched solo singing performance in my twenties comes to mind) about how you really do 'lose it' when you 'don't use it.' I had to retrain myself to some extent, so a lot of the effort I put in happened before I even touched brush to canvas. I enjoyed that relearning, actually. It was like visiting an old friend - awkward at first, but thoroughly rewarding and worthwhile to remember why I loved it in the first place.

I suppose this was one of the great personal lessons for me in the project: that I could regain the creative passion I may have once had, but has now become lapsed. It gave me a sense of hope for what I could do in the future, what goals I could more comfortably set. I have a renewed faith in my creative ability. I may be lacking in skill, but I'm not lacking in motivation or in the ability to relearn and regain. It is more difficult, of course, than just keeping that creative muscle in shape, but it is possible and rewardingly worth it.

Interestingly, I also found that even though I sacrificed some time I might have normally spent on my profession, having this completely separate and personal creative project helped spark my interest in my job. I felt more able to use work time effectively. I was more interested in what was happening in my classroom. I felt more like me, I think, and less like a machine. It felt more like I had realigned some priorities in a way that was personally and professionally satisfying and balancing.

So, in all, I've learned an appreciation for the natural, or intuitive, creative process, which may well vary from person to person. It should always be respected, even if only by the creator. I learned that I have become rusty, but that reviving an old passion is rejuvenating for the soul. I can see that creativity is a cognitive effort, but perhaps more importantly, it is an emotional endeavor that can be quite healing for the psyche and that can provide greater meaning to our lives.

The carry-over into my classroom is that I hope to help my students feel comfortable in their own creative skins, in their own processes. I hope to not force them into believing that a single way of doing things is the 'correct' way, but I hope to acknowledge and engender in them an understanding of their own best creative processes. I hope to plan in a way that flows better, and allows for building on skill, without undue periods of falling out of practice, but also without unnecessary rehashing and overworking of a single thing (concept, skill, project). I hope to help them understand the importance of the process over the project by using more reflective activities, such as the one I'm doing just now.

As I said earlier, I'm not thrilled with this particular product itself just yet, but it's okay because the process was well worth it, and what I've learned from it gives me the faith that I'll make it what I want... I have a restored confidence.