In her 2011 TED talk, Amerian poet, Sarah Kay, explains and demonstrates the power of spoken word poetry; how it allows us to show up and let ourselves be seen.

In "The Paradox," Kay describes that familiar tug of war between the desire to experience life fully as it is happening, whilst in the same instant wanting to retreat inwards, to our mind or workspace in order to comment and create from the energy inspired.

No matter what we are doing, we usually think we should be "doing something else more important". This can become a way to avoid activities or actions that look challenging or frightening. In other cases, we find decision making hard, and thus never get going with what we want to do or achieve.

Creative recovery can be about letting go of that need to do everything all at once. Or so something else instead.

Stick to the most important tasks. Let things be imperfect. Commit to doing only that which feels worth while and in alignment with your best interests and desires.

An activity or endeavor committed to with love, and reflected upon with gratitude, is less likely to be considered a waste of time later on.

Love After Love
​by Derek Walcott

The time will come 
when,
with elation 
you will greet yourself arriving 
at your own door,
in your own mirror 
and each will smile at the other's welcome, 


and say, sit here.
Eat. 


You will love again the stranger who was your self. 

Give wine.
Give bread.
Give back your heart 
to itself,
to the stranger who has loved you 

all your life,
whom you ignored 
for another, who knows you by heart. 


​

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, 


the photographs,
the desperate notes, 

​peel your own image from the mirror. 

​
Sit.

Feast on your life.

"Love is the active concern for the life and the growth of that which we love. Where this active concern is lacking, there is no love."

The Art of Loving, Erich Fromm

​"...the essence of love is to “labor” for something and “to make something grow,” that love and labor are inseparable. One loves that for which one labors, and one labors for that which one loves."

​Erich Fromm

Klein continues to be celebrated and gain popularity as a pioneering artist, visionary and avant-garde figure. His fame and reputation have escalated since his untimely death over half a century ago. He was instrumental in spearheading minimalism and abstraction in European modern painting, and as a performance artist. He had the mind of a mystic and a philosopher; endlessly fascinated with the idea of the absolute, and of space beyond the felt and visible world.

In the light of his current artistic prestige, one could easily surmise that Klein was critically acclaimed and financially successful throughout his working life, but this was not the case. As a recent article in The Guardian makes clear, Klein struggled to make money, taking on various jobs to support himself, including working as a picture framer in London between 1949-50.

Confronting Criticism and Perceiving Failure

Yves first exhibition was held in his London bedsit where he displayed paintings made on pieces of discarded cardboard, stuck to the walls with tack:

Klein`s parents were artists and it is evident that they supported their son`s aspirations to create, offering him connections they had made within the art world. That having been said, it is emboldening to note Klein`s attitude and response to experiences and circumstances that cannot be given to us by anyone else. He chose to follow his own course.

He spoke of his time working as a framer -earning a living laboring on behalf of other artists (as many do)- rather than on his own work, as essential to the development of his craft and mastering of specific techniques

We can see how, with hindsight, it is often those unexpected experiences, jobs, relationships and periods of time –those which felt like, or could be construed as waiting or wasting time–that turn out to have great impact on the people we become and work we create.

Our mission becomes to trust and build confidence in the things we  want to do, achieve and become; cultivating eagerness to continue exploring themes of personal importance as Klein did. Having a more even-handed response to inner and outer criticism, validation or success, is what many of us have to practice in order to persevere with a vision and inhabit creative lives.

It is tempting to fall into the the trap of believing that one is only an artist if the work we do earns money; if others like it; the material or equipment is of the highest quality; and we are educated to the utmost degree via the top ranking establishments.

Klein worked as a framer; used sponges; cheap poster paint and whatever else was available in order to make his art. He was an artist: His work and vision mattered to him, and so he did what he had to in order to keep moving forward. This is real grit.

One art dealer who resided in London during the time of Klein`s first London gallery exhibition and knew the artist: '...recalls Klein (who was six years his senior) as being focused, with a plan, not dissolute or drinking as other artists were at the time.` ( The Guardian)

So –– We find out what our work is; and then we commit to doing it.

We can be certain that those we now celebrate and admire, anyone who created something that mattered, pushed the envelope whilst facing a heady mix of praise and rejection –where not super human. In fact, attempting something new or different causes us to confront the full spectrum of our humanness like nothing else.  Name your foremost inspiration, Mozart or Matisse; Steve Jobs or Stanley Kubrick –they all experienced difficulty, took a minor job to get by, made compromises, and had to confront defeating behaviors in themselves and others along the way.

What causes any artwork or artist to remain relevant or loved is not initial reception –these details become footnotes: It is their ongoing ability to improve and support our lives through what they made and left for us; how these things change us; move and walk beside as companions –this is what gives work its shelf-life.

Allowing who we are

It is one thing to discover and admit to ourselves the reality of who we are, and what makes us function. It is another to offer this outwardly and let the world receive it in whatever way it wishes. 

Presenting myself to others as an artist and an introverted creator, because I choose to allow these things, and not because they are easy, can feel as uncomfortable as `admitting` that I am in recovery from various addictions and dependencies. Both are often received with a mixture of intrigue, confusion, envy, contempt and pugnacious reactivity. I sense that attempting to obscure these base truths for fear of how others would react is what lead me to addiction in the first place. So that's simply no longer an option. 

Confronted with doubt or the fear of judgement from others, I can look at the example of people like Yves Klein:

The way they lived,
the boldness with which they embraced their inner loves and obsession,
the work that was created as a result,
the courage and conviction they displayed,

–and ask Klein's essential and emboldening question: Why not?

Natasha.

In this short film, British artist and head of Cognitive Media, Andrew Park,  animates and edited version of a lecture Daniel Pink gave at the RSA. Pink considers what truly motivates us to do good and meaningful work, debunking common misconceptions about what incentivizes this:

Natasha.

​"Art is a form of nourishment (of consciousness, the spirit)." Susan Sontag

“Art holds out the promise of inner wholeness.” Alain de Botton

​Creating For Fullness

​The process of creating should surely be one that provides long-term sustenance for its maker. This is a mindset we can apply to creating art, or any meaningful pursuit. It might be exercise; cooking; or service of any kind: We are more likely to persevere with these things by releasing the expectation that doing so will make them our vocation or produce results. Rather, we find that engaging with them provides something essential to our sense of fullness and overall satiation in life. We feel more ourselves and better fed as a result.

Richard Tuttle
​
This post was inspired by a video interview I recently watched (below) featuring American visual artist Richard Tuttle. Over its course, Tuttle describes what art can do and work inside of us. He discusses a number of pertinent beliefs, including the idea that artists require creative expression in order to live first and foremost. And that being an Artist has less to do with education and success, and more with creating and expressing as a means of acquiring spiritual and emotional nourishment; that this is not only useful, but imperative for the artist`s well-being. How one's work is received, or whether it gets demand, is another matter.

It might seem that Tuttle identifies fully with the role of 'Artist' as his purpose and vocatio, though he promotes the idea of detaching from success. Many of us however, maintain this 'role' as one facet of ourselves, and not all that we are. This can be a healthy way of keeping ego and expectations in check. Regardless of how we choose to identify ourselves visa-vie an identity, his ideas and advice are applicable for anyone attempting to weave their own path and connect to a deeper sense of meaning, purpose and expression. But especially if this is connected to making creative work a priority.

​Tuttle has been a leading figure in the postmodern and minimalist art movements for several decades. The work he has produced during his long and prolific career thus far spans a diverse range of media including drawing; painting; printing; sculpture; and instillation art. The interview below features some of his drawings, which are immediate and playful in their use of color, line and form; but there is also an intensity there that is hard to describe. One senses the artist's love of paintings formal properties, which would seem to reflect his description of engaging creativity as spiritual food or medicine.

Nourishing the whole being

As a culture we tend to place greater emphasis on feeding and nurturing our physical bodies: Caring for the `inner being,` as Tuttle calls it, is secondary–an after thought. Furthermore, advertising industries have taken good intentions behind our embracing attempts to embrace healthy exercise and nutrition, and morphed this into an obsession with achieving "optimal health". Often reducing our idea of "wellness" to something that constitutes outer appearances.

Addictive, or avoidance based behaviors as well as past trauma can lead to the physical body being abused and/or neglected. This can manifest in visible signs of distress that are hard to ignore because, in a sense, they are "public".

Yet our emotional and spiritual being suffers too, often for longer, and in ways that might not become obvious until years after the abuse or incidents occurred. In-fact, physical signifiers are usually rooted in our emotional and spiritual center, calling attention to something that is wrong or missing here. But these deeper causes often go unattended, or unbeknown to the outside world due to their lack of visibility.

There is a duel disregard for what is suffering in us below the surface, and how we are caring for our emotional well-being on a long term basis.

​Individual needs

Collective demands and expectations we place on ourselves to be brilliant; successful; healthy; kind; generous; humble ––to prove our (self)worth and right to be here, is simply too much pressure for most of us, and we often experience chronic stress, anxiety or burnout as a result.

It is a brave, and seemingly arduous task to take responsibility for locating our specific needs and values, rather than only consuming what's readily on offer. Opting to surrender this need to proving ourselves to others; feeling enslaved to outside praise or fitting into what is deemed normal or good, is actually available to us at any moment.

When it comes to nurturing our inner being, we can ask ourselves what feels like good spiritual food for us beyond what others say they feel sustained by. In the same way that opinions about what constitutes a `good` or `satisfying` meal vary; we get to consider how we are going to nourish and support our physical, as well as our emotional/mental/spiritual systems.

Learning what this looks like can be both exhilarating and challenging: First we just try and connect with what we seem to need and like. If you are reading this, you most likely desire freedom of creative expression. The next step, then, is tuning into what that frequency sounds like, and leaning how to navigate its fluctuations.

Tuttle describes what he, as an artist, needs in terms of creative and spiritual sustenance in order to survive and be well here:

"Artists are like clouds"

​According to Tuttle, one does not make art in order to become an artist: Artists occur in the world just like clouds. They are a part of nature; "...they just happen."

The same could be said of a chef or athlete: We all have different potential within us -what one might call gifts or inspiration. Thing that are just `there` or appear with less effort.

Artists feed their creative hunger in order to thrive and be spiritually well. Neglecting to do so will cause some form of distress. Simply allowing more space for creative expression in our lives can boost our vitality. Since few of us received adequate grounding for security or confidence in childhood, we often learn how to provide this for ourselves later on. Sometimes it is appropriate to wait until it is safe, or we have a greater sense of ourselves, before we can nurture the creative and provide it with the proper food for growth and sustainability.

​Teaching ourselves what we need to know:

In a separate interview, Tuttle explains that he embraced academic texts and literature later on in life. He decided to take responsibility for his own education:

``That is the difference from school: If I had studied the works there, with exams, etc., they would have given me too much. I give myself one hour a day, so I'm always hungry. I can't wait for the next 24 hours to pass."

​"...if Aristotle can't be my teacher then I'll have to teach myself."

To be sure, life will provide the lessons we require in order for us to transform –even if they feel unnecessarily painful at the time. Formal education is helpful, and mentors can assist us; but we are ultimately responsible for choosing to acquire the knowledge we most need, and then seeing how we might use our experiences to negative or advantageous affect.

Narratives

"My dream is to be myself in public. The only way I could survive growing up was to construct a persona; it had nothing to do with me. I was a popular kid, functioned in the world, but I lived in another place."

By re-calibrating our thinking we form a springboard for shifting personal narratives about what drives, or holds us back.

Tuttle`s thoughts about art and artists are compelling: Equally intriguing is the way he talks about his life and the narrative he has shaped for it. He appears to view art as his vocation; but moreover as his savior from life's challenges and upheavals. Embracing a creative life has allowed him to form an empowering relationship with early struggles and pain.

This is something that might resonates for us: When we feel at our most vulnerable, in pain or grief, creating–or simply thinking about doing so–offers a sense of hope, salvation and purpose. Observing and experiencing the work of others can also have this effect, and this is partly why art can have such a healing force. It provides a sense of hope and confidence in human resilience, and the desire to create out of any situation or experience.

As Tuttle puts it:
``...there has to be all of life because if you don’t have all of life, then how can you make anything that really has importance."

​"Most artists have terrible childhoods. On a certain level, you don't have art unless you would die without it."
Richard Tuttle

Tuttle speaks of a painful childhood which included neglect and a lack of understanding or support from his father. Yet he does so with a degree of gentle detachment; reflecting with gratitude on how these formative experience encouraged him to develop his intuition and the confidence to teach himself the lessons others could, or would not. Taken from this angle, so-called struggle and disadvantage become the very things that can define our strength and character if we so chose.

What Artists can do

``It’s a service to do the most with your life that you can do in the world. The job of the artist is to give people something to see, not to give them something to look at. You have to know the difference between looking and seeing.”

Tuttle likens the artist's position in society to that of a philosopher; both address similar questions and themes. A philosopher typically attempts to approach quandaries directly and come to some form of resolution, whilst artists convey and point to perceptions through abstracted means, inviting mystery and awe to remain and the viewer room to enter the debate. Artists–no matter the means of expression they adopt–frame life's questions; hardships; and difficult conversations in a manner that appeals, and speaks to the senses. Allowing even the most distressing questions and situations to take on an air of life-giving or affirming poignancy.

Art as freedom and liberation

Russian artist, Wassily Kandinsky (1866-1944), is know for his interest in the connection between art and the spiritual. In particular, he saw how music could connect us with something transcendent, and wanted to explore how this same spiritual quality could be evoked through the harmonizing of color and form in painting. He felt modern culture had become separated from the spiritual, beyond the confines of religious doctrine. He viewed the art market in terms of this structure; both being products of their time and subject to shifting trends in belief and understanding. He believed that the essentials of art and spirituality were beyond taste and social needs.

Writing about Kandinsky, Maria Popova states: "...the true artist gives credence only to that inner need, and not to the expectations and conventions of the time."

If religion can be said to impose rules on spirituality; then spirituality itself, like art, is ultimately free and open to interpretation. Kandinsky, like Tuttle, felt that art could be an "anchor" when other aspects of life are uncertain or overwhelming.

Art then, is not the traditions and education systems imposed upon it: But the act of creating and expressing, un-tethered from historical or socioeconomic influence.

​In recovery we are often encouraged to look to something greater than ourselves for guidance and support. We are not being asked to adopt a religion –but to seek out a connection to the spiritual. And thus, it comes as little surprise that many come to recognize a desire for greater creative expression as a result of connecting with something beyond themselves.

Even then, we often prevent ourselves from allowing creativity to nurture us because we are jaded by what society says is "good art". So when it comes to allowing creative expression to feed our spirit, we might consider shedding ideas about what constitutes "serious" work; fearing that we are not adequately educated; what others think or whether what we make will become a source of income. Instead, we allow ourselves to be nourished by the process first and foremost.

"Art is the best tool to conquer our fears.”
Richard Tuttle

In the ever brilliant and enlivening `Letters to a Young Poet`, Rilke offers sage advice for a brave and expansive approach to life. The letters were intended for a poet-protege, and offer wise words of practical application to anyone who wishes to live and create fully, whilst not becoming overly encumbered by the unavoidable hardships of being courageously human. The letters remind us that there is no experience truly worth bemoaning, or lacking in value ––especially when it comes to the reflective process of making good art:

On Trust:
“Believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.”

Embracing challenges and living the question:
“Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.”

Welcoming solitude:
“Embrace your solitude and love it. Endure the pain it causes, and try to sing out with it."

“The necessary thing is after all but this; solitude, great inner solitude. Going into oneself for hours meeting no one - this one must be able to attain.”

Having patients:
“Don't be too quick to draw conclusions from what happens to you; simply let it happen. Otherwise it will be too easy for you to look with blame... at your past, which naturally has a share with everything that now meets you.”

​Courage:
“That is at bottom the only courage that is demanded of us: to have courage for the most strange, the most singular and the most inexplicable that we may encounter.”

The light that is to be found in darkness:
``You have had many and great sadnesses, which passed. And you say that even this passing was hard for you and put you out of sorts. But, please, consider whether these great sadnesses have not rather gone right through the center of yourself? Whether much in you has not altered, whether you have not somewhere, at some point of your being, undergone a change while you were sad?``

```Were it possible for us to see further than our knowledge reaches, and yet a little way beyond the outworks of our divining, perhaps we would endure our sadnesses with greater confidence than our joys. For they are the moments when something new has entered into us, something unknown; our feelings grow mute in shy perplexity, everything in us withdraws, a stillness comes, and the new, which no one knows, stands in the midst of it and is silent.``

How sadness changes and expands who we think we are:
​``For this reason the sadness too passes: the new thing in us, the added thing, has entered into our heart, has gone into its inmost chamber and is not even there any more, — is already in our blood. And we do not learn what it was. We could easily be made to believe that nothing has happened, and yet we have changed, as a house changes into which a guest has entered.``

​Advice from Joanna Macy, one of our most treasured translators of Rilke's poetry: "...you're always asked to sort of stretch a little bit more, but actually we're made for that. There's a song that wants to sing itself through us. We just got to be available. Maybe the song that is to be sung through us is the most beautiful requiem for an irreplaceable planet or maybe it's a song of joyous rebirth as we create a new culture that doesn't destroy its world. But in any case, there's absolutely no excuse for our making our passionate love for our world dependent on what we think of its degree of health, whether we think it's going to go on forever. Those are just thoughts anyway. But this moment you're alive, so you can just dial up the magic of that at any time."

And here she reads his poem "Go to the Limits of Your Longing" from `The Book of Hours`:

Lines I always come back to:

"Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me."

​A timeless reminder that nothing we encounter is without recourse or beauty.

Natasha.x

​At one point in time, these mechanisms intervened to protect us: To increase our likelihood of survival at times when we were not fully evolved, old or experienced enough to choose otherwise. But today, fear and its friends are rarely necessary to the degree they continue to make themselves felt within us. The sense of imminent danger or loss that so often accompanies making decisions; trying, or letting go is simply unrealistic when it comes to our daily lives.

​Delving into writings that address the creative process and what promotes or halts its progress, I often find material that is profoundly relevant to recovery also. The metaphors that emerge are stark and endless.

​Elizabeth Gilbert on fear:

“Let me list for you some of the many ways in which you might be afraid to live a more creative life:

​You’re afraid you have no talent.

You’re afraid you’ll be rejected or criticized or ridiculed or misunderstood or—worst of all—ignored.

You’re afraid there’s no market for your creativity, and therefore no point in pursuing it.

You’re afraid somebody else already did it better. You’re afraid everybody else already did it better.

You’re afraid somebody will steal your ideas, so it’s safer to keep them hidden forever in the dark.

You’re afraid you won’t be taken seriously. You’re afraid your work isn’t politically, emotionally, or artistically important enough to change anyone’s life.

You’re afraid your dreams are embarrassing. You’re afraid that someday you’ll look back on your creative endeavors as having been a giant waste of time, effort, and money.

You’re afraid you don’t have the right kind of discipline. You’re afraid you don’t have the right kind of work space, or financial freedom, or empty hours in which to focus on invention or exploration.

You’re afraid you don’t have the right kind of training or degree.

You’re afraid you’re too fat. (I don’t know what this has to do with creativity, exactly, but experience has taught me that most of us are afraid we’re too fat, so let’s just put that on the anxiety list, for good measure.)

You’re afraid of being exposed as a hack, or a fool, or a dilettante, or a narcissist.

You’re afraid of upsetting your family with what you may reveal. You’re afraid of what your peers and coworkers will say if you express your personal truth aloud.

You’re afraid of unleashing your innermost demons, and you really don’t want to encounter your innermost demons.

You’re afraid your best work is behind you. You’re afraid you never had any best work to begin with. You’re afraid you neglected your creativity for so long that now you can never get it back.

You’re afraid you’re too old to start. You’re afraid you’re too young to start.

You’re afraid because something went well in your life once, so obviously nothing can ever go well again. You’re afraid because nothing has ever gone well in your life, so why bother trying?

​You’re afraid of being a one-hit wonder. You’re afraid of being a no-hit wonder”

― Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear, 2015

Steven Pressfield on Resistance:

​``Resistance is fueled by fear: Resistance has no strength of its own. Every ounce of juice it possesses comes from us. We feed it with power by our own fear of it. Master that fear and we conquer resistance.``

 He goes on:

``Are you paralyzed by fear? That`s a good sign.

Fear is good. Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do.

Remember our rule of thumb: the more afraid we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it. Resistance is experienced as fear; the degree of fear equates to the strength of Resistance."

––Steven Pressfield: The War of Art, 2002

​There are few things I have felt more resistance towards than:

a) Embracing recovery.
b) Changing in accordance.
c) Confronting my relationship to past events.
d) Allowing what I wanted to make to come out.

The hardest part is starting.

Popova quoting Anne Lamott:
​
``Perfectionism is a mean, frozen form of idealism, while messes are the artist’s true friend. What people somehow (inadvertently, I’m sure) forgot to mention when we were children was that we need to make messes in order to find out who we are and why we are here — and, by extension, what we’re supposed to be writing.``

That's just it: We don't want to make a mess. And yet, without getting dirty, nothing can really happen.

​I have feared emotional discomfort like it was something that could physically climb on top of my shoulders and crush me (it can't). And when it came to creating, compulsive use of fear and perfectionism throughout my early twenties eventually led me to feel convinced I was not capable. I was not sufficiently talented; I didn't posses the skill; it wouldn't be any good. The funny thing is, I thought that my insecurities and excuses were pretty special. I kept them in a nice little box that I could open up whenever I wanted to an excuse or sympathy from other. After a while, this became boring and repetitive.

I could not see a way of translating into material form the full scope of ideas and images at the forefront of my mind without feeling uncomfortable and making the occasional mess. And yet, my refusal to try in earnest resulted in a mess being made out of me.

​From the Gospel of Thomas:

``If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth with destroy you.``

In reality, I didn't know, or want to hear, that there is no one or perfect way of doing things --that my fears around matters of living and creativity were shared by most.

In the beginning, many of these fears became self-fulfilling prophesies. Like everyone, I made (and still make) a lot of things that do not resemble what I picture in my mind. But through persevering, time and skill collaborate to produces good things. Sometime better things. The need for work or life to look a certain way becomes secondary to the process of trying and experimenting. I have found fondness for even the `mistakes` as they contain within them previously obscured pieces of myself. Sometimes these look and feel odd, but they are also interesting.

Without allowing myself to experience the aliveness that ultimately results from making something for its own sake, I prevented myself from accessing the main ingredients for overcoming the laundry list of blocks that Gilbert, Pressfeild, and so many others point to: the elation and joy of true expression, and the sense of fulfillment these emotions bring forth.

Maria Popova writing about Anne Lamott: https://www.brainpickings.org/2013/11/22/bird-by-bird-anne-lamott/