Rekindle the passion in your art

Are you looking for a way to rekindle the passion in your art?

Stephen Nachmanovitch, author of “Freeplay”, points out in an Accidental Creative podcast that the sequel to a blockbuster movie is often not as fun as the original. There are different energies going into it. This can be true, when commercial potential comes before love. You have to find a way to balance making money with loving what you do.

However, this does not necessarily mean constantly seeking out the ‘next best thing’. We must be careful not to be obsessed with only the new. Newness has an appeal, but this is novelty, and soon wears off. We must learn to look deeper into the familiar, into the very essence of things.

Most of us keep a wishlist, in which we write what we would like to buy. Do any of us keep an ‘I already have list’, a list of things we we already own, and are grateful for? Try doing this as an exercise. I guarantee you’ll will remember fondly the prior love you felt for a object or undertaking.

Sometimes, we need to take time out to rediscover our inspiration. Sometimes this means approaching your work from a different angle. Sometimes this means incorporating a new element.

After feeling stuck with theatre after ten years, I finally read a book I had put off reading for years: “Impro” by Keith Johnstone. In this book, I fell in love with theatre again. I remembered the fun I used to have in youth theatre, playing improvisational games. I hadn’t played these games for years, yet they were the main reason I loved acting. I checked Keith Johnstone out online and was thrilled to see he still ran workshops. I went along in 1997 as a participant and haven’t looked back since. Improvisation is now a major part of my life and, for me, has put the playfulness back into work.

Just like a relationship, we must continually rekindle an old love in order to have a long, happy life together.

Creative but bored?

Did you make a career out of doing what you love, but now find that you’ve lost that original passion? Has it become more about making money than loving what you do?

Todd Henry from The Accidental Creative suggests that commerce may cause a conflict between creating for others and creating for yourself.

In Henry’s podcast interview with “Freeplay” author Stephen Nachmanovitch, they discuss this dynamic. Nachmanovitch reminds us of how hard it can be to balance inspiration with commerce. As artists we have all had to produce something creative on demand that pays the bills, while we’d rather work on our own unpaid labour of love.

Nachmanovitch uses the analogy of the painter, who leaves his inspired canvases with a gallery. One year on, the gallery want more of ‘the yellow ones’ because they sold so well. However, by this time, the artist has moved on. He now has other influences. His Muse is no longer with ‘the yellow ones’ and so recreating them becomes a lifeless enterprise.

So how do we, as creatives, keep it fresh? And is repetition always equivalent to lifelessness?

A good performance artist would say not. My background is in theatre, and one thing I learnt in acting school was the importance of keeping the performance fresh every night. No matter how bored you got with saying the same old lines, you had a duty to the audience as new customers, to give them good value for their money.

There are many techniques to ‘keep it fresh’. One way is to remain present. All live art has the potential to change, and every performance has a slightly different energy and audience every night. By learning to tune into these nuances, a good actor will discover new reasons to speak and act every night, keeping some elements of the performace spontaneous. Perhaps the emotion with which the line is said will change, perhaps the gesture… Either way this involves stepping on stage with an openness to new energies.

This change of perception is available to us all, and may be a skill that artists excel in anyway. Often what we call ‘vision’ is the ability to tune into what most people find boring and make it intersting. Even painting another ‘yellow one’ involves a fresh canvas with its own unique texture; every panel has its own snags and warps, every brushstroke has a different feel.

According to the Zen phrase, life is all about “Chopping wood and carrying water.” This has a very simple meaning. Every day is repetitive. What we must do is perform every action, no matter how insignificant or repetitive, with full life and presence. We must surrender to the activity and become one with it.

How often have you felt that your greatest works have been the ones that ‘just naturally happened’? The art just seemed to flow out of you, or you became completely immersed in your project. You surrendered completely to your work and became one with it. Often, this is what we mean when we say we are ‘inspired’. Perhaps this sense of oneness and the subsequent ease of flow is what we mean by inspiration.

And if the Buddhists are right, then this sense of oneness does not just come and go, but is learned.

So next time you really don’t want to do what you’re doing, try giving it your full attention. Treat it with full respect. Focus on your breathing. Stop pretending you know exactly where this will lead. Allow yourself to have a new sense of wonder.

The truth is that there is no repetition. Every new undertaking, no matter how mundane, can be an adventure.