When I describe my creative process, it seems easiest to compare it to things you’d see in nature. Most often, my creativity comes in waves. I’ll work on a project over the course of a few weeks: I’ll work on it for a few days, then take a few days off to work on something else. Unfortunately, though, it’s not always such a serene practice. Sometimes, I feel like I'm swirling in a tornado of ideas, not really able to latch onto anything in particular and getting wrapped up in feelings of frustration. Other times, it’s like a crack of lightning, where I get hit with some serious inspiration and focus for one specific thing, and I can finish whole poems or paintings all in one go. More recently, though, I’ve experienced a burst of creativity which can be only compared to a wildfire.
At first, it was awesome! I was working on multiple paintings, poems, videos, and articles all at once. Like many people adjusting to a work from home lifestyle, I felt able to cram more and more of my free time with ways to be creative, ways to channel my anxiety, and ways to produce things that would help others cope with the world as we move through the world. There was a feeling of accomplishment as I was able to finish projects and stay passionate about my work as I jumped onto another. I also felt encouraged by the other artists around the globe taking advantage of the extra time and energy they had to focus on building their portfolios. The thing about wildfires is that they can’t regulate themselves very well. As they continue to burn, eventually they will eat through all of their available kindling. Once that happens, they will be unable to go any further. They burn themselves out. Recently, I started feeling myself struggle to do anything creative, even though I still had the drive to make new things as I had been doing for the last couple months. At first I didn’t understand why it was it was hard for me to create anything when a week or two prior, I felt like I was on a creative streak. Looking back, however, it started making sense: I had just finished writing a series of new poems, finished two paintings, had multiple offers for projects outside of work, and on top of that, I was still working full time (even if my office is just a few yards away from where I sleep). And, like I always point out when talking about stress in 2020, the world around us isn’t exactly a comfortable, stress-free place to be at the moment. At the same time I was starting to feel the beginnings of my own burnout, I noticed articles from all over the web describing how so many creatives are going through the exact same thing. Just as a wildfire tends to eat up everything in sight, I was allowing my plate to get immensely full without thinking if I had room for everything to fit. There is only so long you can work at full capacity like that. The good thing about metaphors, in this case, is also the recognition that they can only explain so much of what they are being compared to. Unlike wildfires, we have the ability to recognize when we are approaching a creative burnout. And luckily, we can also find ways to slow down, take stock of how we’re feeling, and create strategies to help us navigate through, and hopefully avoid, total burnout. A little while ago, my colleague Mike Campbell and I created a workshop titled “5 Fun Ways to Beat Quarantine Creative Block,” which had some fun activities designed to take your mind off your block and try to inspire some new ideas. But it doesn’t always take being creative to avoid or heal from creative burnout. Sometimes it takes a good night’s rest, watching your favorite TV show, or going camping (currently working on doing all three). And while I feel comfort by getting back to a place where I can be creative as soon as I can, there isn’t a requirement to get back to being creative within a couple days, weeks, or even months, in some cases. So, if you are starting to feel frayed at the ends, or like the candle you’ve been burning at both ends is running out of wax, take a step back for a moment. Keep your expectations reasonable, take breaks as needed (extended ones if possible), and make sure you are staying connected to what your body needs from you in order to heal and move forward. Creativity will be there when you get back. - Jasmine Green, Center for Creativity Assistant. Find Jasmine's work here or follow her on Instagram.
0 Comments
Did you read the title and get a bit of anxiety at the thought of not using an eraser to sketch? If you did, I completely understand. To be honest, I actually share some of your anxiety about it. Out of the kinds of art I do on a regular basis, sketching is absolutely my least favorite. This wasn’t always the case, though; as a kid, I drew whenever and wherever I could. I would draw everything from model cars to snakes, basically anything that caught my interest. I’ve even had a drawing or two crumpled up by an annoyed teacher (still kind of upset about that). All my love for sketching changed once I discovered acrylic paint in high school. With the ability to build and layer the medium like I’ve never been able to with graphite, I put all my practice into acrylic and abandoned the years of work I put into learning how to sketch. Once I regained an interest in sketching the last couple of years (for the simple reason that, for me, better sketches = better paintings), I developed a rather anxiety-provoking knack for constant erasing of any perceived mistakes, even at times starting over on a sketch that was near complete because it wasn’t “just right”. This conflict with sketching created a lack of interest in working to re-develop my drawing skills. And I knew that, in order to keep progressing in my craft, I had to confront this stubborn roadblock. So, recently I’ve been putting myself up to a challenge. For the last month or so, I have been sketching things in pen, not allowing myself to redraw or erase anything I thought didn’t look “perfect”, and attempting to finish the sketch even if it didn’t turn out the way I wanted. It’s been an especially random process, as I typically only remember to do it when my schedule is clear for a while. But every time I have attempted it, it has been fully worthwhile. Here are some reasons why you should give it a shot: 1. It builds character! I know, I sound like every grizzled dad talking to their teenager from a 90s TV show, but knowing you cannot erase any perceived mistakes is a really easy way to both build confidence in yourself as an artist and to identify areas of improvement you might want to work on. Multiple times when I decided to sketch something, I went into it thinking the end result would be a lot worse than it actually was. Even though it’s fully reasonable to be nervous trying something as difficult and seemingly “final” as sketching in pen, I came to realize that it was also a very low-stakes way of showing myself what I can do when I put my mind to it. Unlike a painting or a sculpture, for instance, the time dedicated to an individual sketch is incredibly miniscule. I often used our Creative Cafes, our daily 30-minute creativity chill sessions here at the C4C (which I definitely recommend you check out, btw!) as a soft timer for the amount of time I would dedicate to any individual sketch. And instead of trying to think up a concept purely from my imagination, as I often do in a painting, I used items in my work environment as models, which kept things pretty casual. And while I don’t suggest sharing your final results if you aren’t comfortable with that just yet (or at all!), I slowly started getting really excited about posting the sketches on social media once I was done, something that used to always bring me dread. Sometimes the best way to conquer a fear is to confront it head on. But wait, there’s more! (Yes, I had the infomercial voice in mind while writing that.) Not only does it help build your confidence to draw with full commitment, it also literally gives what you draw character! In a redraw of a painting I did in 2016, I noticed how the sketch had a different feeling than the painting I put together all those years ago. It felt more fluid than the original, as I took creative liberties that didn’t exist in the reference. In the end, I had two very similar and yet very different pieces of art. While working on the sketch, I momentarily thought about small details that were off in ways that I typically fix with a redraw later; repositioning the arm or making the hands bigger to be more proportionate. However, the more I observed what I drew, the more I started loving those little “happy little accidents,” in the words of just-go-with-the-art-flow king Bob Ross, as the piece feeling a bit off is a part of its appeal. 2. It gives you a reason to slow down and appreciate all the little details For as horrific the pandemic has been (and believe that I do not wish to make light of that fact in the slightest) the single silver lining I have been able to find is that it has been one of the few things that, briefly, brought the whole world to a standstill. It wasn’t for as long as it should’ve been, of course. However, it was still incredible to me, as somehow who was struggling to balance my home, work, social, and rest schedules with the pressure from social media to keep them out of balance, that we finally had a national and global discussion about slowing things down. And so in the weeks and months following initial lockdown, I’ve been looking for ways to slow down in any ways I am able, like fully appreciating meals and taking walks around my neighborhood without headphones (which also means fewer bus rides). And even though I did the best I could to consciously slow myself down in a myriad of different activities, it wasn’t until I started this challenge that I realized I have the tendency to rush through the sketching process. It made sense, as it wasn’t my forte and was perhaps one of the most uncomfortable parts of the artistic process for me. Still, for me to get better at it, I had to learn to take my time and really observe what I was doing. And drawing in pen helped me to start drawing with intention. I started noticing little aspects of things, like how there are multiple different types of glare on curved glass, or the multiple ridges on the leaves of a Rex Begonia plant. These are things I would’ve never cared to pay attention to while I was in a hurry to get to the painting process. 3. You’ll find that you judge yourself less when you are allowed to make “mistakes”
All people, no matter their level of expertise or level of connection to their creative side, know the feeling of being too hard on themselves. In all of our brains, we have a little critic who oversees all we do and isn’t afraid to point out even the most miniscule of human errors and make them out to be the most egregious missteps imaginable. The critic can sometimes be really helpful: sometimes a little self-doubt is all it takes to ask for help when you need it, or to spend more time on something you truly care about. It can be the reason that we think things through or reflect on our actions so we learn from them in the future. However, for all the good our internal critics can do, they can also wreak havoc on our ability to try something new or difficult. Too often, our fear of not being good or even promising at something on our first few tries will prompt the critic to sow seeds of self-doubt and to question why we would attempt something outside of our comfort zone in the first place. Our internal critic can also prevent us from even trying anything new at all, convincing us that it’s better to not “embarrass ourselves” and to stick to what we already know. Sketching for me is one of those things that send my critic's alarm bells ringing. Even though I knew my sketches would be private for as long as I wanted them to be, the fear of messing up was so palpable that I couldn’t make myself start this experiment until a week after I told myself I would embark on it. But gaining enough courage to push the self-doubt out of my mind and risk not getting something right out of the gate allowed me to start this hobby that I am really beginning to enjoy. Through this process, I realized I wasn’t giving myself enough credit by only latching onto what I did wrong. I let little errors here and there color my perception of a perfectly fine drawing as something inadequate on arrival. While I can’t say I didn’t grumble under my breath about errors, I felt a lot more confident about my sketching skills once I allowed myself to really see the sketch through to the end. Once I removed that little critic from my brain, I gave myself a chance to figure things out. And instead of constant criticism, I finally started the process of appreciation. Try this out and see what lessons it brings you. I hope you use it as an excuse to be imperfect for a while, and to experience all the joys it brings. If anything, we as creatives (and people as a whole) deserve a break from expecting perfection for a while. - Jasmine Green, Center for Creativity Assistant. Find Jasmine's work here or follow her on Instagram. Did you try this out? Send us a photo at [email protected] for a chance for it to be featured on our site! Making Space: |
As many of us do now, I struggle with some anxiety in public. Because of this, I went from walking various neighborhoods, busy parks, and popular trails to roaming through my own neighborhood, where I could retreat indoors if anxiety got the best of me. At first this was great, because I was exploring parts of my environment I had never seen before. But Highland Park is only so big, and I needed to find a way to change up my walks.
As an artist, I find the way we interact with urban settings fascinating, and I like to contemplate what makes people choose what they do in terms of design and aesthetics. This lends itself to changing up my regular walks, and I hope it inspires you to do the same: what I see and think about might be completely different for you!
On trees
If you are interested in plants like I am, you might take note of trees. They're everywhere in urban and suburban landscapes, sometimes shoehorned into spaces in ways that are very different from what you see in the woods. What do you notice about trees in your neighborhood? When you look at a tree, can you tell where human interventions have changed the growing pattern? Can you see places in the bark where bottom branches have been cut? Is the tree shaped? Can you tell if the trees are old? Are there parts of the tree that are dead, or yellow growths on new trees? Do you notice the patterns of bark growth? Is the tree out of place (like palm trees typically found around Pitt’s campus in the summer), and how does its location affect the tree's growth?
As an artist, I find the way we interact with urban settings fascinating, and I like to contemplate what makes people choose what they do in terms of design and aesthetics. This lends itself to changing up my regular walks, and I hope it inspires you to do the same: what I see and think about might be completely different for you!
On trees
If you are interested in plants like I am, you might take note of trees. They're everywhere in urban and suburban landscapes, sometimes shoehorned into spaces in ways that are very different from what you see in the woods. What do you notice about trees in your neighborhood? When you look at a tree, can you tell where human interventions have changed the growing pattern? Can you see places in the bark where bottom branches have been cut? Is the tree shaped? Can you tell if the trees are old? Are there parts of the tree that are dead, or yellow growths on new trees? Do you notice the patterns of bark growth? Is the tree out of place (like palm trees typically found around Pitt’s campus in the summer), and how does its location affect the tree's growth?
Observations from my walk
Walking around Highland Park, I began to really take note of trees around power lines. People have very precisely shaped these trees to keep them from interfering with the lines, but beyond that there seems to be no care for the trees' aesthetic, which makes for weird and whimsical creations. My favorite was one with a single branch directly under the power lines, which made it look like it was holding the line up.
Trees in sidewalks also have some interesting root growth. It’s strange to see such large roots aboveground, as the tree tries to expand beyond the little space it was given between sidewalk and road. I also found one where the root split the sidewalk in half, and while it isn’t uncommon for roots to grow under the sidewalk, you don’t often see them clearly breaking through on smaller trees.
Walking around Highland Park, I began to really take note of trees around power lines. People have very precisely shaped these trees to keep them from interfering with the lines, but beyond that there seems to be no care for the trees' aesthetic, which makes for weird and whimsical creations. My favorite was one with a single branch directly under the power lines, which made it look like it was holding the line up.
Trees in sidewalks also have some interesting root growth. It’s strange to see such large roots aboveground, as the tree tries to expand beyond the little space it was given between sidewalk and road. I also found one where the root split the sidewalk in half, and while it isn’t uncommon for roots to grow under the sidewalk, you don’t often see them clearly breaking through on smaller trees.
There was one tree at an extreme tilt that looked like it was looming over the cars. One tall tree looked like it had had all of its branches chopped off, only to rebel and sprout new growth from the bottom, with one very prominent branch at the top. It was very striking and resembled a rebellious power line pole itself.
We probably don’t think of this much, but so many power line poles are former trees. You can see the notches that use to be branches, and how it tapers toward the top. It’s also a reminder of when paper flyers were used a lot more often; if you look closely, you can often see a lot of staples.
We probably don’t think of this much, but so many power line poles are former trees. You can see the notches that use to be branches, and how it tapers toward the top. It’s also a reminder of when paper flyers were used a lot more often; if you look closely, you can often see a lot of staples.
Something else I observed are the prevalence of Japanese Maples! I swear you can’t walk a block in Highland Park without seeing one in someone's yard.
People use a wide variety of trees for landscaping, but because I didn’t grow up in an area where a lot of people planted ornamental trees, these red trees stand out a lot (just like Pitt's palm trees). I managed to find a dracaena, another variety of tropical tree, planted in someone’s yard; it presumably hasn’t survived over the winter and was planted just for the season.
Try taking a walk through your neighborhood with a fresh, focused, and creative eye. What do you observe about the trees there...?
- Mike Campbell, Center for Creativity Assistant. Find Mike's work on Instagram.
People use a wide variety of trees for landscaping, but because I didn’t grow up in an area where a lot of people planted ornamental trees, these red trees stand out a lot (just like Pitt's palm trees). I managed to find a dracaena, another variety of tropical tree, planted in someone’s yard; it presumably hasn’t survived over the winter and was planted just for the season.
Try taking a walk through your neighborhood with a fresh, focused, and creative eye. What do you observe about the trees there...?
- Mike Campbell, Center for Creativity Assistant. Find Mike's work on Instagram.
I’m proudly Jamaican. My entire family is from Jamaica. The last time I got to visit was over Christmas break during junior year of high school; we had just finished building a new house on my family’s land.
The typical routine is that as we drive from Kingston airport, we stop at the Juici Patty factory on the way to Saint Elizabeth. (I’ve never seen what it looks like, cause I’ve slept through it every time, and not one person decided it would be nice to wake Kami up so she can see what the factory looks like.) I usually wake up groggy 30 minutes later, but then I get a patty and a carton of sorrel (a drink made from hibiscus flowers) to eat during the ride.
Then we get home, drive past the mango tree in the front yard that my mom’s parents are buried under, and see the house she grew up in slightly down the path (bright lavender, with a cross painted on the front door).
In the morning, my mom makes me run down the road to grab a bag of flour so we can make fry dumpling for breakfast to eat with our ackee (the national fruit), and my aunt comes over with a whole bunch of mangoes and soursop from her tree. We head to the beach — my uncle drives us — and in the middle of the day, he surprises us with a big block of ice from the back of his truck, shaving some ice that we top with fruit punch syrup. My mom points out where she went to school and where she bought oranges right outside the school gate. I meet so much family I didn’t know existed, and get three times that number of mosquito bites. And then when we leave to come back to the states, we buy a box of frozen patties and stock up on white rum and red label wine at the airport duty free store.
My mom didn’t grow up in the states at all. American history is not her strong point. But despite that, she raised my sister and I to be so aware of Black American history as well as our own culture. In third grade, she gave me The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass. I read Sojourner Truth’s Autobiography, and made her out of a potato for a class project. If there was a new Black History movie, best believe my family was in the movie theatre. Or buying it on DVD and BluRay. (We didn’t even have a BluRay player.) Every MLK Jr. Day, my mom would sit my sister and me down (under our dining room table: our house had a weird set-up), and we would watch his speech start to finish.
Now I take my mom out to watch The Color Purple (my favorite Broadway show of all time) and August Wilson plays, to try and return the favor. My mom did such a great job of raising my sister and me to be so educated and aware of blackness growing up in a society where we were taught to hate ourselves more than anything. Despite everything being stacked up against us, the mental tax that comes with existing in this oppressive system on the daily, I’m so happy every day to wake up and be black. There isn’t a more resilient group of people, despite those trying to stomp out our existence and dehumanize us. The power of black joy is unmatched: the music, the art, the poetry and writing and thought, the culture, the food, and the laughter.
It feels weird to tack a recipe at the end of this, but I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you use it as a moment for some self care. (If you read 30 minutes of Audre Lorde, you may have these as a treat.) I took a pic and sent them to my mom when I first made them (isolating alone in my apartment), and she approved and said the crust looked good. Just like a patty from the store, it made a huge flaky mess whenever you took a bite. So it’s the real deal.
Always keep reading, keep learning, keep listening.
The typical routine is that as we drive from Kingston airport, we stop at the Juici Patty factory on the way to Saint Elizabeth. (I’ve never seen what it looks like, cause I’ve slept through it every time, and not one person decided it would be nice to wake Kami up so she can see what the factory looks like.) I usually wake up groggy 30 minutes later, but then I get a patty and a carton of sorrel (a drink made from hibiscus flowers) to eat during the ride.
Then we get home, drive past the mango tree in the front yard that my mom’s parents are buried under, and see the house she grew up in slightly down the path (bright lavender, with a cross painted on the front door).
In the morning, my mom makes me run down the road to grab a bag of flour so we can make fry dumpling for breakfast to eat with our ackee (the national fruit), and my aunt comes over with a whole bunch of mangoes and soursop from her tree. We head to the beach — my uncle drives us — and in the middle of the day, he surprises us with a big block of ice from the back of his truck, shaving some ice that we top with fruit punch syrup. My mom points out where she went to school and where she bought oranges right outside the school gate. I meet so much family I didn’t know existed, and get three times that number of mosquito bites. And then when we leave to come back to the states, we buy a box of frozen patties and stock up on white rum and red label wine at the airport duty free store.
My mom didn’t grow up in the states at all. American history is not her strong point. But despite that, she raised my sister and I to be so aware of Black American history as well as our own culture. In third grade, she gave me The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass. I read Sojourner Truth’s Autobiography, and made her out of a potato for a class project. If there was a new Black History movie, best believe my family was in the movie theatre. Or buying it on DVD and BluRay. (We didn’t even have a BluRay player.) Every MLK Jr. Day, my mom would sit my sister and me down (under our dining room table: our house had a weird set-up), and we would watch his speech start to finish.
Now I take my mom out to watch The Color Purple (my favorite Broadway show of all time) and August Wilson plays, to try and return the favor. My mom did such a great job of raising my sister and me to be so educated and aware of blackness growing up in a society where we were taught to hate ourselves more than anything. Despite everything being stacked up against us, the mental tax that comes with existing in this oppressive system on the daily, I’m so happy every day to wake up and be black. There isn’t a more resilient group of people, despite those trying to stomp out our existence and dehumanize us. The power of black joy is unmatched: the music, the art, the poetry and writing and thought, the culture, the food, and the laughter.
It feels weird to tack a recipe at the end of this, but I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you use it as a moment for some self care. (If you read 30 minutes of Audre Lorde, you may have these as a treat.) I took a pic and sent them to my mom when I first made them (isolating alone in my apartment), and she approved and said the crust looked good. Just like a patty from the store, it made a huge flaky mess whenever you took a bite. So it’s the real deal.
Always keep reading, keep learning, keep listening.
Jamaican Spinach Patties
A Jamaican Patty is a flaky pastry, usually tinted orange, filled with meat or veg.
Makes like 16. Recipes usually lie, but this time I’m not kidding, I promise. (This is a perfect recipe when your pantry is running low: I got so many meals out of the recipe. Plus, the ingredients are pretty cheap.)
Ingredients for crust:
- Kami Beckford, Center for Creativity Student Ambassador. Find Kami's work on her website.
A Jamaican Patty is a flaky pastry, usually tinted orange, filled with meat or veg.
Makes like 16. Recipes usually lie, but this time I’m not kidding, I promise. (This is a perfect recipe when your pantry is running low: I got so many meals out of the recipe. Plus, the ingredients are pretty cheap.)
Ingredients for crust:
- 3 cups all purpose flour
- 2 tsp salt
- 1 tsp ground turmeric
- 1 cup unsalted butter, as cold as possible, cut into cubes
- 1 egg
- 1 tsp white vinegar
- 3 packs frozen spinach, defrosted (usually this would be callaloo, which is similar to a collard green. My mom grows it in our backyard. 3 packs sounds a lot, but I promise it shrinks down to nothing.)
- 1 onion, diced
- 3 cloves garlic, diced
- 2 scallions, chopped
- 2 sprigs of thyme
- 1 scotch bonnet pepper, or anything to bring hear
- seasoning salt
- pepper
- Mix all the dry ingredients together.
- Start cutting in the butter. Add the butter to the dry ingredients, and take two forks and start incorporating the butter until the mixture is crumbly: you should be able to pinch the mix and have it stick together.
- Mix all the wet ingredients together separately, and then incorporate into the flour-butter mixture.
- Work the dough as little as possible, but form it into a ball and wrap it in plastic. Let it chill in the fridge for at least one hour.
- Let about 2 tablespoons oil heat up in a pan. Once heated, add garlic, scallion and onion. Let the onion caramelize, but make sure it doesn’t burn.
- Add the spinach, thyme, scotch bonnet, and season generously. Don’t be shy. Taste as you go.
- Let everything cook together for about 5 minutes. Don’t overcook. When done, remove the thyme sprigs.
- Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.
- You’re gonna want to keep the dough as cold as possible. Take the dough out the fridge, cut into quarters, and only work with a quarter at time. Each quarter should give you about 4 patties.
- Divide the dough further: roll each piece out into a circle (or if you have a large container to use as a circle cookie cutter, that also works). Fill with 3-4 spoons of filling. Brush the outside of the circle with water, fold over, and crimp with a fork. Brush with an egg wash.
- Bake for 20-25 minutes, until they look golden brown.
- Eat after letting cool, chill them, or freeze them.
- Kami Beckford, Center for Creativity Student Ambassador. Find Kami's work on her website.
Making Space:
Caroline Kulczycky
Center for Creativity Student Ambassador
Tell us about yourself. What do you make?
I’m a rising senior at Pitt, and over the past three years, I have become particularly interested in digital artmaking (whether using Photoshop, Illustrator, Procreate, or other apps). I also have a background in illustration, acrylic painting, and zine-making.
How do you describe your workflow/process?
Usually, I work in spurts — whenever inspiration hits me, I like to capitalize on it. Thus, my artmaking process tends to start very spontaneously. Then, I usually get into a deep creative flow, and work until I am creatively exhausted. Or hungry.
I’m a rising senior at Pitt, and over the past three years, I have become particularly interested in digital artmaking (whether using Photoshop, Illustrator, Procreate, or other apps). I also have a background in illustration, acrylic painting, and zine-making.
How do you describe your workflow/process?
Usually, I work in spurts — whenever inspiration hits me, I like to capitalize on it. Thus, my artmaking process tends to start very spontaneously. Then, I usually get into a deep creative flow, and work until I am creatively exhausted. Or hungry.
How do you record your ideas?
I record new ideas in my Notes app on my laptop or phone. One day, I’ll look back through them all. I also have a couple sketchbooks that I doodle and draw in whenever I feel particularly imaginative.
Describe your environment? What’s the vibe?
Dynamic. Quarantine has temporarily changed my artmaking environment, so my current workspaces are a bit different than what I’m used to. I’m a guest in my current home, and I haven’t had a chance to construct a creative sanctuary of my own. Because of this, I am constantly changing creative spaces. My roommate’s desk (which I’ve commandeered), my bed, and various couches around the house are where you can usually find me making art during quarantine. But since my laptop is my most-used creative tool, I can pretty much go anywhere!
How do you set the scene for making?
Headphones and Spotify. I also need to have water, tea, and/or a little snack next to me at all times.
I record new ideas in my Notes app on my laptop or phone. One day, I’ll look back through them all. I also have a couple sketchbooks that I doodle and draw in whenever I feel particularly imaginative.
Describe your environment? What’s the vibe?
Dynamic. Quarantine has temporarily changed my artmaking environment, so my current workspaces are a bit different than what I’m used to. I’m a guest in my current home, and I haven’t had a chance to construct a creative sanctuary of my own. Because of this, I am constantly changing creative spaces. My roommate’s desk (which I’ve commandeered), my bed, and various couches around the house are where you can usually find me making art during quarantine. But since my laptop is my most-used creative tool, I can pretty much go anywhere!
How do you set the scene for making?
Headphones and Spotify. I also need to have water, tea, and/or a little snack next to me at all times.
How is it organized and arranged?
Since I have a few different workspaces, they are arranged differently. “My” desk is organized bit haphazardly — I stack papers, books, and art supplies on it wherever there’s room. I have an affinity for slightly disorganized workspaces — they boost my creativity somehow.
How long have you been in this space?
Around two months and counting!
What’s one thing you’d change?
I would like to work outside more often. Changing physical locations when I’m making art helps me feel reawakened and refreshes my creativity, and there’s no substitute for good old-fashioned sunlight and fresh air. Especially during quarantine, being outdoors (in a safe way) only does me good.
Since I have a few different workspaces, they are arranged differently. “My” desk is organized bit haphazardly — I stack papers, books, and art supplies on it wherever there’s room. I have an affinity for slightly disorganized workspaces — they boost my creativity somehow.
How long have you been in this space?
Around two months and counting!
What’s one thing you’d change?
I would like to work outside more often. Changing physical locations when I’m making art helps me feel reawakened and refreshes my creativity, and there’s no substitute for good old-fashioned sunlight and fresh air. Especially during quarantine, being outdoors (in a safe way) only does me good.
Any art objects around that inspire you?
I have this small poster that I got from the Carnegie International exhibition last year. On a pure white background, in black hand-inked calligraphy, is the name “Giovanna.” Now, I don’t know anybody named Giovanna, but every time I look at this minimalistic poster, I feel a sense of beauty and elegance flowing me. This piece really helps me clear my mind, regain focus, and inspire me to create beautiful things.
What’s your favorite piece of equipment?
My laptop is my most important piece of creative equipment. I never used to be technologically savvy, but now that I’ve learned to utilize the Internet and software (lookin’ at you, Adobe Creative Suite!) to create art, I am constantly learning new ways to explore the world of digital artmaking.
What tool is always on your person/do you never leave home without.
My phone and a pen/pencil. I am always doodling on my math notes or my homework.
What’s your favorite piece you’ve worked on lately?
Lately, I’ve been using Photoshop to create a portrait of my best friend. Hopefully, I’ve captured her essence!
I have this small poster that I got from the Carnegie International exhibition last year. On a pure white background, in black hand-inked calligraphy, is the name “Giovanna.” Now, I don’t know anybody named Giovanna, but every time I look at this minimalistic poster, I feel a sense of beauty and elegance flowing me. This piece really helps me clear my mind, regain focus, and inspire me to create beautiful things.
What’s your favorite piece of equipment?
My laptop is my most important piece of creative equipment. I never used to be technologically savvy, but now that I’ve learned to utilize the Internet and software (lookin’ at you, Adobe Creative Suite!) to create art, I am constantly learning new ways to explore the world of digital artmaking.
What tool is always on your person/do you never leave home without.
My phone and a pen/pencil. I am always doodling on my math notes or my homework.
What’s your favorite piece you’ve worked on lately?
Lately, I’ve been using Photoshop to create a portrait of my best friend. Hopefully, I’ve captured her essence!
Welcome
Our blog is a space for C4C staff and guest contributors to share thoughts on creativity, workspaces, processes, and more!
Archives
August 2020
July 2020
June 2020
May 2020
April 2020
March 2020
Categories
All
Creative Challenge
Creative Cuisine
How To
Inspiration
Making Space