ARTiculation: 'Moment of clarity' or inspiration out of nowhere
My sketchbook and pencil are my lifelong
companions. Like some people sleep with
their phone, I sleep with my Moleskin notebook
and charcoal readily available on my
nightstand. I carry a bag big enough for them
to travel with me wherever I go. I fill it with
grocery lists and clippings and business cards
and homework.
But sometimes, when a moment I can only describe as extraordinary hits, it sweeps over me like Hokusai’s great wave, and I fumble for my pencil before it makes its way through my body and leaves me.
You know what I’m talking about.
The adrenaline that some might get from jumping out of an airplane or driving really fast, we get from putting pencil to paper, watching the lead smooth over the textured surface. This feeling, this “elusive creative genius,” as writer Elizabeth Gilbert calls it, feels otherworldly, outside of yourself and your control.
Last year I wrote about Chuck Close and his famous quote “inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just show up and get to work.” And he certainly did, completing staggering hyperrealistic portraits despite his disability (spinal artery collapse, initially leaving him paralyzed from the neck down). But every artist has his/her own process, and there are some other industry heavy-hitters that would argue otherwise.
Gilbert gave a TEDtalk in 2009 about creative genius or inspiration and where it comes from.
She cited that in Ancient Greece and Rome, people thought that creativity was a spirit that came to humans from some unknowable source and worked through us.
“They believed that a genius was this, sort of magical divine entity, who was believed to literally live in the walls of an artist’s studio, kind of like Dobby the house elf [from Harry Potter], and who would come out and sort of invisibly assist the artist with their work and would shape the outcome of that work.”
This idea of divinity striking an artist continued throughout time, perhaps occasionally as a way of taking the responsibility off of themselves (we all know the lazy artist who hasn’t felt inspired to paint anything for months), but more often, to pay reverence to that je ne sais quoi.
Automatism, an artistic movement, was developed in the ‘40s as a way of drawing out that inspiration. Andre Breton and Paul- Emile Borduas developed the method as a way to express the subconscious and free the hand of “rational control,” allowing emotions and skills to be accessed that would otherwise be repressed.
It took anchor and has been used by many artists since then.
Even Apple developed a program to facilitate automatic writing where the display only shows one word at a time as the writer types his/her piece.
Although some artists like Close believe that inspiration is for chumps. There is absolutely no doubt that this feeling, this weird wave, does swell. Hard work and practice is necessary in between, but there is no better feeling than grabbing the pencil and letting it wash over you.
Editorial opinions or comments expressed in this online edition of Interrobang newspaper reflect the views of the writer and are not those of the Interrobang or the Fanshawe Student Union. The Interrobang is published weekly by the Fanshawe Student Union at 1001 Fanshawe College Blvd., P.O. Box 7005, London, Ontario, N5Y 5R6 and distributed through the Fanshawe College community. Letters to the editor are welcome. All letters are subject to editing and should be emailed. All letters must be accompanied by contact information. Letters can also be submitted online by clicking here.
But sometimes, when a moment I can only describe as extraordinary hits, it sweeps over me like Hokusai’s great wave, and I fumble for my pencil before it makes its way through my body and leaves me.
You know what I’m talking about.
The adrenaline that some might get from jumping out of an airplane or driving really fast, we get from putting pencil to paper, watching the lead smooth over the textured surface. This feeling, this “elusive creative genius,” as writer Elizabeth Gilbert calls it, feels otherworldly, outside of yourself and your control.
Last year I wrote about Chuck Close and his famous quote “inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just show up and get to work.” And he certainly did, completing staggering hyperrealistic portraits despite his disability (spinal artery collapse, initially leaving him paralyzed from the neck down). But every artist has his/her own process, and there are some other industry heavy-hitters that would argue otherwise.
Gilbert gave a TEDtalk in 2009 about creative genius or inspiration and where it comes from.
She cited that in Ancient Greece and Rome, people thought that creativity was a spirit that came to humans from some unknowable source and worked through us.
“They believed that a genius was this, sort of magical divine entity, who was believed to literally live in the walls of an artist’s studio, kind of like Dobby the house elf [from Harry Potter], and who would come out and sort of invisibly assist the artist with their work and would shape the outcome of that work.”
This idea of divinity striking an artist continued throughout time, perhaps occasionally as a way of taking the responsibility off of themselves (we all know the lazy artist who hasn’t felt inspired to paint anything for months), but more often, to pay reverence to that je ne sais quoi.
Automatism, an artistic movement, was developed in the ‘40s as a way of drawing out that inspiration. Andre Breton and Paul- Emile Borduas developed the method as a way to express the subconscious and free the hand of “rational control,” allowing emotions and skills to be accessed that would otherwise be repressed.
It took anchor and has been used by many artists since then.
Even Apple developed a program to facilitate automatic writing where the display only shows one word at a time as the writer types his/her piece.
Although some artists like Close believe that inspiration is for chumps. There is absolutely no doubt that this feeling, this weird wave, does swell. Hard work and practice is necessary in between, but there is no better feeling than grabbing the pencil and letting it wash over you.
Editorial opinions or comments expressed in this online edition of Interrobang newspaper reflect the views of the writer and are not those of the Interrobang or the Fanshawe Student Union. The Interrobang is published weekly by the Fanshawe Student Union at 1001 Fanshawe College Blvd., P.O. Box 7005, London, Ontario, N5Y 5R6 and distributed through the Fanshawe College community. Letters to the editor are welcome. All letters are subject to editing and should be emailed. All letters must be accompanied by contact information. Letters can also be submitted online by clicking here.
