I was looking for books on creativity and the creative process. Not how to make things, but why we make things. A philosophy of creativity, so to speak. During my initial search process I came across some reviews of “The Artist’s Way” (not an endorsement, I haven’t read it). One reviewer complained that it was easy for the author to find beauty in the world, since they lead a “blessed life in Sonoma [California].” How — the reviewer typed into the void — could I possibly find beauty in my mundane, day-to-day existence?
That made me think, because I don’t lead a blessed life, either. I work a 9-to-5 job with very little creativity involved. I live in a cramped suburban apartment near a highway, with no studio, no breathtaking vistas, nor a great deal of disposable funds. But I believe it is possible to find beauty in one’s mundane existence. The challenge is that you need to train the mind to seek it out. It takes effort. Perhaps my perspective is a little skewed, which I will go into, but here is my take on it.
What is beauty?
As long as I can recall, I have had an attraction to objects and places in a state of deterioration. Abandoned places and things hold a fascination for me. Items, vehicles, buildings… anything that has a patina of use will always get a second glance. Sometimes, things are not abandoned, just well-used and still in use. Maybe the fact that it’s used means it’s an object that’s worth having. It must be, for someone to keep it, maintain it, and repair it. But it’s something that doesn’t need a glossy exterior; it’s useful, perhaps even cherished, but too utilitarian to put on a pedestal.
When a friend was looking to buy a “fixer upper” house, I recall going to see one in a historical part of a nearby city. At a guess was it was at least from the late-1800s. The building had spent the previous few decades as a multi-family residence and had seen hard use.
But there was a room that had the original stamped tin tiles on the ceiling. (Or, if not original, certainly from the early 20th century). In that dingy room, with an old stained mattress abandoned on the floor, those tiles were distinctive, lovely. Even coated with years of paint and grime. It was easy to imagine the beauty of this tragically destroyed place.
You probably don’t have the same aesthetic sense, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t something to find.
Training
What do you find beautiful? When i say beauty I mean: does it evoke a response in you? Does it make you stop — even if only for a moment — to regard it? Does it inspire you or stir a creative urge in you? It doesn’t even have to be the conscious creative output of an artist. For me, it might be a faded old sign, or a rusty can. For you it may be something else. If you go to an art exhibit, you will likely pass by many works, different styles or mediums, but may find just one that captures your interest.
What draws you to it? Lines, colors, texture, intricacy? Does it evoke a memory or emotion? What is the core of your attention?
Try to capture the idea in a note or a picture or a sketch. Take that and go seek it in the world. When I was younger I became entranced by Art Deco design. Some time later, I noticed Art Deco styling in photos and memorabilia of gas stations from the early days of America’s fascination with automobiles. Not just the cars, but gas station buildings, gas pumps, even the oil cans were designed in Art Deco styles. Once I had made the connection, I couldn’t help but be fascinated by the sight of old gas pumps in the background of photos and movies, or displayed in antique collections.
Find beauty without living in Sonoma
Our mundane existence has potential to find something inspiring if you can carve out time to be in nature. Even the old dead leaves of autumn have beauty in their intricacy, texture, color. Our brains seem to be wired to notice beauty in the natural world. Whole books of poetry have been written about it. It has been replicated on canvas, in stone and clay, and in photographs. A local park I frequent seems to always have something new to discover. Even if you don’t find something that directly inspires you, just taking a nice walk will let your mind wander to open up your creativity.
If you feel like the commenter mentioned at the outset, and you have a job that you commute to, then the objection is understandable. How can you find beauty in the concrete lanes, the traffic, the same old daily routine? Maybe you need to stop the car and pull over to take a short walk in a park that’s on your route. Or look around the traffic around you and pick out a car and tell yourself a story about the person driving it. Maybe they’re not just a corporate drone. Perhaps they’re coming back from (or heading toward) an adventure.
Break out
If you find yourself creatively stuck, then you probably need to break your mind out of its rut. Expose yourself to new things. Listen to music outside of your usual genre. Read a book, or listen to an audio book or a podcast on a topic outside your creative interest. If you can’t afford to buy audio books, see if your library lets you borrow them like mine does. Maybe that will give you a new perspective.
“Think outside the box” is a cliché, but one’s ability to do so is achieved by making mental connections between things that usually don’t connect. Even if you never have a creative breakthrough, you’ve at least given your brain some exercise, and strengthened it for the next time you need to flex your creative muscles.
Love this post! I read the artist’s way and did the outlined tasks it requires in 2017. It really helped me with my artistic output. I’ve been recommending it for years! (Though, disclaimer, I bought the book in 2015…when I saw it was a workbook with assignments, it took me a while to commit to picking it up!)
I love the way you describe simple beauty in everyday life. There’s a concept in Japanese that I feel embodies the beauty that you acknowledge when you see patina, rust, or an abandoned room. It’s called wabi-sabi. I feel the same way about the treasures you described and there was something very entrancing knowing that a different culture acknowledges that special wonder with a specific phrase.
It was a toss-up between The Artist’s Way and The Creative Act by Rick Rubin, but I went with Rubin. I’m still digesting my first read, but I liked it. Much more of a… spiritual? … text, but it was as reflective as I was hoping.