What the hell is “creative process” anyway?
I think the words creative process are some kind of made up term that would be art schools bandy about, to ensnare and enslave those with stars in their eyes. Or just to get them to pay up when it’s tuition time, that’s also a distinct possibility.
If it sounds like I’m making fun of the whole thing, then you are hot on the trail of the truth as I see it. I create a lot of stuff – everything from interiors to graphics to web site designs to marketing campaigns to dinner, and I almost never do any of it the same way twice!
The wheels on the bus go round and round.
I hear about – ok, I read about it mostly, since I have an aversion to watching internet videos – more on that in another blog so stay tuned – how this artist or that writer or that designer has what basically amounts to a checklist, and that’s how they get their work complete.
You know who has a freaking checklist? James Patterson. John Grisham. Danielle Steele. Yah, people who produce mass amounts of so-called creative work that is really just formulaic rubbish that is designed to part people from their money.
I just saw you roll your eyes, that’s fine, but what I am saying here is true. Jackson Pollack, yeah, he had a creative process too, but back then it was cool as hell to squat over a canvas on the floor with a cigarette drooping out of the side of your mouth while you splattered paint all over the place – no one else had ever done that and called it art before, if you know what I mean. Try to do that now, and you’ll be called a copycat poser who is trying to rip off the master…
I sometimes dream about the projects I’m working on; when that starts, well, it usually turns ugly and I don’t get any sleep until I’ve got some sort of a resolution. I had a recent mishap with an old Waterbra and a lovely chair that I had reupholstered. This is also another story for another post, and I will be detailing the entire way that my pathetic tendency to be a pack rat cost me hours upon hours of work, but at the end of the day I have a newly (again) reupholstered chair, and this one is ROCK AND ROLL, let me tell you that.
Sweet dreams are made of this.
It took weeks to finish this project, and it’s finally done, and I’m incredibly pleased with it, but geez, for days on end I would wake up in the middle of the night dreaming about how to create a collage from fabric scraps and beads, and how I would put some Karl Lagerfeld, hot mess at Chanel quilting on this thing, and I could see in my head what it should look like at the end of the self imposed slave labor I was putting into this deal.
[GOT IDEAS: Leave me your info and we can talk – CHAT]
I make dinner 4 or 5 nights each week, and we eat very well. People come to my house for dinner because they do not believe that nearly every day we eat like it’s Instagram on crack. But we do. We always have, and I can tell you that every single day the process that it takes to arrive at dinner on the table is not the same, never even close to what it was the day before, or the day before that.
And right now, I’m sitting here in my new home office slash studio space and I just looked at the wall where the patch compound I put on earlier has dried, and now I’m thinking, “well, why can’t I have striped curtains and striped walls”, and I can assure you this thought has never entered my mind until this moment but it’s lodged itself firmly into that space, and now it’s going to be a battle – literally and figuratively – with the other half of my mind that wants to do something completely different; this is a battle that will rage on for at least three weeks, since I’ve got houseguests coming and can’t have the whole place ripped up since this is also the guest room.