Creative Reflection
Creative Reflection
This journal entry was originally written on 12/5/21. I’m keeping it here, as a part of history, hopefully to help you wherever you are. Thanks for reading.
If you are reading this, you are dear to me. Thank you for being here.
2021 was a hurricane of feelings. I’ve learned things that I think could significantly help others - so I wanted to share!
I wanted to specifically focus on my creative journey.
I’ll start with a story. Of me, but little me. Tiny Jenna had one of the classic Ikea storage cube units attached to a desk for many years. You know the ones? With all the squares?
The desk was originally purchased as a place to do homework, but it became the center piece of all my creative projects. Paint, glue, scissors, paper, markers. It was ever-changing, ever-messy, ever filled to the brim. The four cubes that were under the desk - out of reach - became my little city. The residents - painted rocks with googly eyes, Littlest Pet Shops, Snubbies, those random squishy rubber animals from arcade machines, the hamster things that scooted around with battery power. One hamster had a pink mohawk. I had great diversity of residents, basically.
I spent HOURS under the desk, with a lamp, playing. Unbridled, uninhibited play. I made homes for the residents out of craft supplies, I added paper wallpaper, lights (at one point a disco ball), and it was truly a prosperous village. Some nights, when the storyline and projects in the little neighborhood were just too intense to leave, my parents would let me take a bite of dinner and run back in there to keep playing, then another bite, etc. We called it “eat play.” It was my favorite.
I got older - but the feeling of eat play continued into different projects. That feeling - of absolute freedom from anxiety and fear, comfort and ultimate freedom to create, deep contentment, and peace. That was/is creativity for me. “Making” was the place I went always.
It manifested as a million different, messy things. Drawing, sewing, writing, video editing, photography, arranging flowers, playing piano, designing graphics on picnic or picmonkey (remember that?!), and I truly have never been able to stop.
I think when I went to college and began selling my artwork, it was not a surprise to anyone. When I wanted to start a store and invited everyone into my creative space, it made perfect sense. What happened is that while many people and I exchanged joy and peace, many more came in and kicked over my pet rocks, so to speak.
I opened my whole heart up to creating - as I had always done - but the number of people through the door prevented it from being safe anymore. I can think offhand of 10 separate encounters, in the last 2 years, that traumatically shaped my experience creating. I’d rather not dive in to all of them, but here’s a sampling: verbal assault, property damage, financially not being compensated what is owed, threats, degrading, belittling, personal insults, etc. I am astounded every time it happens, because I try to be so careful who I engage with - but it has all happened and unfortunately, now I carry it with me.
And worst of all the negative experiences - within my sacred creative space, my grown-up “eat play,” is where the news was delivered that someone extremely dear to me and even younger than me had died tragically, without warning. This haunting day happened in my store. From that moment, I didn’t want to walk in the building again. I hated my art in there, it didn’t feel safe anymore. And eventually, this, among other factors, led to closing the store.
Now, at the end of 2021, in all honesty I’m actually petrified of creating.
I don’t feel like myself when I’m not making stuff, but holy moly I can’t figure out how to do it without getting hurt badly. I tried my hand at interior design. Every wound got opened and new ones were cut. I have been hiding behind easy and fun to make color palettes. Every time I try to draw something different, to open up again, it’s as if my heart can’t pump blood fast enough. It’s frustrating.
I think maybe the tendency would be to say I need to grow thicker skin. And sure, I’m sure I could. But I won’t really be able to create authentically. Everything I make is done with very thin-skin on purpose. Everything I’ve found worth creating has been within the deep-feelings that I need access to readily. The colors, the blobs, anything I am capable of making is from thin-skin. I wouldn’t really be myself if I got thicker-skin.
So I approach 2022 pretty exhausted, lots of open wounds, but even more healed ones. The desire to be creative is back, and some methods for doing so safely are starting to come alive.
What I can do is step back and realize I have been held so well for so long. Every time I unravel, I’m still safe. I’ve had to fight to believe that despite the voice screaming in my head, I’m not a creative failure.
I am hoping to use my space here and online to continue to create honestly (in a safe way for myself!) and bring color into the world.
I’m not 100% sure what that will look like, but I will take you along for the ride. Thank you!
XOXO Jenna O.