I came upon this plen aire painting class on my walk yesterday. Beautiful morning; magnificent view.
I watched from a respectful distance, noting with interest that the artists worked systematically, dabbing identical brushes into matching color palettes. When they’d spread the first pigment from corner to corner, they stopped to compare their templated images to the scene beyond their easels.
The instructor was genuine in her praise, and most students seemed to appreciate her occasional redirect. The class objective? To reproduce the painting on the far right, which was itself a reproduction of a rock formation in the cove below.
Truth be told, I started feeling restless. Such an arduous, painstaking task! Like most creative types, I pull from a grab-bag of tried-and-true techniques, easily mastered. I’ve learned that it’s far too easy –and dangerous– to focus our energies on straight-ahead instructions, easily reproduced. I like to experiment, make mistakes, discover.
F-stops, shutter speed, and the Rule of Thirds; strong verbs, sensory images, and character arcs. These are the basic elements of storytelling. I want a working knowledge in my fingertips. But I’d never trade away my wide-eyed sensibilities (my unique perspectives) for that muting thing we writers call “structure.”
For me, creativity comes of exploring a rugged archway–born of earthquakes and raging tides–and chance encounters with tourists who pass through its frame. It’s inspired by pelicans that glide silently through the skies, waves that churn and froth at the shoreline, and salty breezes that tousle my hair.
Writing flows when I break loose from those soul-sucking musts and shoulds, lace up my hiking shoes, and plant both feet in the scene. It’s then, when I finally lose myself in the moment, that I come home to my story.
“For me, inspiration happens when I break loose from those soul-sucking musts and shoulds…”
Exactly! As important as those musts and shoulds are, sometimes you have to toss them to the wind for awhile; otherwise, you are stifled.
And toss them to the wind, I did! I released them on my morning walk, and whoosh! Ocean breezes just whisked them away. 🙂
What a great reminder. It’s so easy to get caught up in all the rules. They’re important to learn, but it’s also important to learn when to let them go and let our creativity flow.
I was taught from an early age to follow the rules, without question or exception. But whew, it’s so liberating, isn’t it, to loosen those restrictions–even just a little!
lovely…the scene, the perceptions, the words….
I’m glad this resonated with you, Pamela. What sweeter gift is there, really, for a writer? xo
..But I’ve learned that it’s far too easy –and dangerous– to focus all our energies on straight-ahead instructions, easily reproduced…
Omg, you totally nailed it(once again!). When I first started seriously writing back in 2000, I ended up getting caught up in focusing on the instructions to a point that I forgot or lost the real joy of writing.
Now, I’m learning that writing isn’t a case of ‘who finishes first’ or ‘what technique is the right one’ but that it’s okay to slow down and process.
Thanks for this post!
YES, and good on you, Kim!! Allow yourself time to process–i.e., things through–as opposed to following (without question) a step-by-step formula. I’ll bet the words flow more easily when you do.
Are you sure that those first few photographs aren’t paintings? Stunning colors, Melodye. The couple walking through/under/in the middle of/the archway is magnificent. Well done in pictures and words. Exquisite.
So funny that you’d say that, Carol (in a good way). Because sometimes when I’m walking on the beach, I think to myself, “The water’s so beautiful this morning; it looks just like a painting.” 🙂
Lovely! All of it!
Thank you, Jeannine. I’m inspired also by your recent blog post about trusting our process, even when it’s bumpy.
Melodye,
I cannot say anything your camera and inspiring words have not spoken. When I read your posts I want to sip tea and linger.
How ’bout I brew a second pot and offer you scone… xo
Once again, I have totally have lost myself in your story.
This. Right now. Truly IS the room where it happens.
Painting. Ocean. Be still my heart.
Thank you so much for sharing so beautifully YOUR STORY.
Thank you for joining me in this room, right this moment, while it’s happening. So glad to see you, and grateful for the opportunity to share my story. xo