from the eMusings Archive...

Volume 14 • Number 2 • June 2021

The Roller Coaster of Creativity

by Huntington Witherill

“The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt." –Sylvia Plath

As I endeavor to plod through yet another notably vacuous stretch of fair to partly cloudy insights, with a chance of intermittent loss of direction and focus, life’s irregular cycles of creative inspiration and work output continue to unfold with the predictability (and reliability) of a run-of-the-mill 10-day weather forecast.

Having observed, first-hand, the capricious manner in which my own creative momentum has continued to ebb and flow over the past fifty years, I am once again reminded that I shall never gain the ability to reliably predict, much less control, the schedule and rate at which my own creative impulses choose to manifest themselves. I used to be tremendously bothered by this particular reality. Yet, for the most part, I no longer find such circumstances to be more than a passing annoyance.

That being said, a long-time friend (with whom I communicate on a fairly regular basis) appears to have figured out a surprisingly effective way (unbeknownst to himself, I’m sure) to remind me of my abject inability to better manage the aforementioned circumstances surrounding my own creative roller coaster ride. Each time we have occasion to interact with one another, the first question on his mind seems (nearly always) to be: Have you produced any new photographs, recently? Over the past year or so I’ve felt obligated to repeatedly respond to his innocuous inquiry with a comparatively listless (though contritely delivered) “Well, uh… no, actually, I haven’t.” (This can be a somewhat disconcerting admission to have to repeatedly own up to, given the fact that I’m supposed to be a working photographer.)

Nevertheless, I realize that my friend (who is a serious photographer, himself) is seeking only to offer encouragement and support through his recurring inquiry. And let’s face it, there is a great amount of joy to be experienced (and shared) each time we are able to produce new artwork that might potentially constitute a fresh or newly refined perspective. For most any committed artist, there will likely be few things in life so unequivocally auspicious and reassuring as those brief but intense periods of genuine discovery and spiritual growth that occur in the wake of a creatively inspired work progression. Yet, how often is the gift of creative inspiration followed by weeks or months of creative stagnation? The question becomes; how best to use our creative downtime as a means to contribute to continued artistic growth, while simultaneously minimizing the inevitable sense of self-doubt that can often accompany those times when we find ourselves at a creative standstill.

Though normally not one to abdicate responsibility, I suppose I could easily blame my current inactivity on the dreaded C-word. After all, it was (as of the time of this writing) just a couple of weeks ago that we were presented with a unique opportunity to officially mark the One-Year Anniversary of “two-weeks to flatten the curve.” Having been essentially cooped-up for more than a year now, it’s pretty hard to ignore the ubiquitous Covid connection. On the other hand, (for me, personally) such rationale might just as easily be characterized as a convenient excuse, given the fact that it was also just a few months back that I was trumpeting the benefits of photographing in one’s own back yard (here). Covid-19 mandates notwithstanding, we haven’t (as yet) been autocratically restricted in terms of free access to our own back yards. So, there’s that.

At the same time, while I haven’t specifically produced any new photographs during the past fourteen months, it’s not as though I’ve been sitting around waiting for paint to dry. There are a surprising number of photography related activities which continue to occupy my time. As but one example, I’ve been able to sit around here for the better part of a week, now (or perhaps it’s been a month or two) ponderously composing this very issue of the eMusings Newsletter. (You think I’m kidding, don’t you?)

Undoubtedly, were I a better writer, I’d be able to knock these essays out in a couple of hours. Yet, as an interminably slow amateur writer who normally doesn’t pay much attention to the amount of time it takes to complete a sentence (let alone what it takes to properly confine that sentence to the fewest possible words – something I seem nearly incapable of doing with any degree of consistency) writing is, for me, an activity that I find to be nearly as enjoyable – and certainly every bit as challenging – as photography. As such (and with apologies for wandering a bit off topic, here) I figure the longer it takes for me to cobble together a reasonably comprehensible essay, the greater opportunity I’ll have to prolong an activity that I thoroughly enjoy. Who wouldn’t want to do that?

Of course, the above doesn’t begin to address the admittedly selective nature of my own quixotic notions of relative patience, focus, and overall cognitive attention span. Frankly, I can be all over the map when it comes to any sort of discernible consistency in those terms. Like most everyone else, there are some things for which I have great patience, and other things… not so much. Setting aside the undeniable impatience experienced each time I find myself in a creative slump, suffice it to say that relative perceptions of time can often have a significant influence on how we interpret, react to, and resolve the various circumstances in our lives. And of course, temporal perceptions are no less present (nor any less influential) when we’re experiencing the occasional creative dry spell.

As a means to illustrate just how warped our perception of time can be, I’m reminded of those halcyon days – now so seemingly long ago and, at the very same time, seeming as though they occurred only just yesterday – when I would find myself squirming in the seat of my high school desk while intently glaring at the second-hand on the wall clock, wishing it would just hurry up and get to where it’s going. With less than eight minutes remaining before school is officially over for the day, why does this clock choose to move at such a glacially interminable pace? Time can be such a cruel arbiter… at both extremes. When I am being truly creative and constructively productive, vast amounts of time seem to pass by in the blink of an eye. Yet, when I’m facing a creative stalemate, well… there I am, feeling as though I’ve been temporarily encased in concrete!

Mixed metaphors aside, I love producing new photographs and have no intention to abandon the practice. It’s just that my days of worrying about these kinds of occasional creative dormancies have long since passed. New photographs will arise when new photographs arise.

You see, what I’ve gradually come to realize and accept, after so many years of fighting the whims of my own vacillating patience and attention span, is that the more I obsess or fixate upon just about anything (rather than simply allowing whatever it is to proceed of its own accord) the less likely it will be that I am able to achieve whatever outcome it is that I might be seeking.

Creativity and inspiration are not the kind of commodities that can be produced and manufactured, on-demand, like so many other common widgets. Furthermore, just because I want the clock to speed up (or slow down) does not mean that time will ever be inclined to accommodate my impatience. As an aside – and despite the fact that my wife will admonish me for saying so as she tends to dislike the phrase as being one of those all too convenient conversation killers – when it comes to creative downtime… it is what it is. (Sorry, Dear. It is what it is.)

I’ve found the most effective way for me to weather a storm of creative inactivity will be to simply ignore the condition and get on with my life as best I can. After all, true creativity seems to come at those times when you least expect it. Accordingly, it must surely follow that the more you actively agonize over the occasional creative work stoppage, the less likely it will be that your creative aspirations will be forthcoming in any meaningful or timely way. As my friend Chris Marvin used to say: “When the going gets tough… hang on tight. And, if that doesn’t work… let go and see what happens.”

Perhaps the next time I’m asked if I have produced any new or more recent photographs (and in the event that I haven’t) I think I might better respond by replying: Not yet. But, if you have the patience to wait for them, I suspect there may be a few lurking… just around the corner.

Huntington Witherill