Creative Process Deep Dive
Social relationships from a Creative Process Perspective: What does that even mean?
For ten years, I made my living editing documentary style videos for a nonprofit organization. Editing is an immersive creative process, often done alone and for hours at a time. Our editing room felt like Las Vegas — no clocks, no windows, no way to measure how time had passed, but enough engaging sights and sounds to not care whether the sun was up, down, or if Earth had made an entire rotation while I was away.
A few years in to my career, I noticed something curious when I worked. As I merged images, music, and sound bites, I relaxed into a peaceful zone internally. My own thoughts seemed quieter, more meaningful, as though arising from a different place than the busy chatter of the everyday.
I even solved some of life’s more difficult questions. While I focused on the project in front of me, suddenly my inner wise one would raise her hand and say “hey! I’ve got the answer!,” like a miner finding the diamond. Bad relationships never made it through an edit, because I’d arrive at such clear conclusions while I worked.
This sparked what became an insatiable curiosity about the nature of the creative process. I wanted to know everything:
Why, when we are immersed in creating, do we drift into something akin to meditation?
Was there a way I could more consciously harness the power of creativity and listen more intently to that quiet inner dialogue?
If creativity hushes the trifling chatter of our normal thought processes, can it be used for personal growth or even to improve interpersonal relationships?
Eventually my questions lead me to the work of Pat B. Allen and her colleagues, Dayna Block, and Debby Gadiel. Pat is known for authoring the books Art is a Way of Knowing and Art is a Spiritual Path. Together these three women founded the Open Studio Process and Dayna opened the non-profit Open Studio Project, which is coincidentally within walking distance of my home (and where I currently serve on the Board of Directors).
As artists and art therapists, they knew the value of creativity for internal alignment and sought to extend that experience to the wider public — both to those who need help and those who are solidly self-sufficient. Partcipants — at the studio near my home, at the School of the Art Institute in Chicago, and in workshops, living rooms, kitchens, and ad hoc studios around the world — have used this process to navigate trauma, major illness, grief, divorce, career changes, and the calm, placid times too.
The Open Studio Process reverses the usual focus of creative work from the product to the process. It invites the right brain to be in the lead by asking participants not to plan their piece ahead, but to simply follow impulse and intrigue. It displaces critique and draws us back from classifying what we make as good or bad. Everything just is — and whether we respond with pleasant or unpleasant feelings in the face of what is becomes a separate issue.
In fact, within the setting of a group class, no comments are allowed at all — no praise, no critique, no giving of advice. That last component might seem odd, or even wasteful, especially in our market-driven creative culture. But, to have a two-hour vacation from evaluation during a class, not only relieves every day pressure, it allows us to develop a relationship with our wisest selves.
I’ve been taking and facilitating classes with the Open Studio Process for seven years now. These weekly sessions — and my own at-home practice — have formed a process of becoming. Through creative process, I’ve brought together the elements of who I am into greater wholeness the way I would mix images and sounds in the edit room to create a coherent experience. The process of becoming, of course, is ever evolving with plateaus and way stations along the way.
And now, I’m interested in what’s next. Once we have a handle on becoming, detaching from the binary of good and bad, and detecting the voice of wisdom within us — what happens to our relationships? Can those practices help us connect not only with our dearest loved ones, but with those whose lives somehow differ from ours?
My intention, then, in this writing space is to explore the questions above and related issues:
the cultural and historical elements that make us who we are as a society — including brutal truths and convenient mythologies we carry forward from our collective past,
thoughts and observations on integrative processes — what brings us together internally and interpersonally,
responses to current events,
and my own story of becoming.
More than likely I’ll pose more questions than answers, because how the heck could I boast conclusive answers to such enormous questions? I hope those who read will leave their thoughts here too.
