Creativity and freedom

You know, I was looking at the referral letter I have for a specialist because I am losing my hearing in interesting circumstances, and right at the end of the list of ailments that I remembered was “2006 – DEPRESSION’. I wish that was the only time. And it prompted me to think about all the times I’ve had bouts of depression and they all revolved around identity: adolescence, getting married, two lots of post-natal, the struggle to assert my academic identity, and the absolute spin dive, finding out my partner had bipolar (manic depression) and that I was trying to be mother, father, carer, professional full time, and that I no longer knew how to be me. And under the gentle yet insistent prodding of my therapist, quite unsure what ‘me’ really meant.

I realised after some months of painful reflection, anger, sadness, indifference, passion, determination and hurt that I needed to do what I understood about myself. I couldn’t simply say, ‘I am an academic in my bones and any other kind of work is not good for my soul or my health’, I had to be an academic. I’m nearly there; working in an academic position outside of my field. I’m applying for positions in my field and doing the publishing thing and hoping that it’ll all come good soon.

I realised that I couldn’t satisfy whatever creativity was inside me by making very nice utilitarian clothes for myself or my children. I had to think about why I wanted to do these things and then follow that through. So now I still make clothes for me and the kids but it’s about customisation, bringing out each personality for self-expression, making choices about fibre and colour for the joy of texture, hue and value.

I realised that while I might not be really good at drawing, I did some okay stuff at school when I had the time to observe and practice and the freedom to explore. Slowly, I’m coming to that again, giving myself the time and space to make marks on a page and think about what I could do with them. I think that will be the most difficult one because it’s about what I see in my head and how I see things and being sure about what I see and mark. But a start is better than being frozen.

There’s a bit of a conversation going on over at innercitygarden about creativity and motherhood. And I listened to a conversation between Alan Brough and a philosopher, Damon Young, about a type of freedom that is gained by avoiding distraction. Making our choices about who and what we are and how that gives us a personal freedom that cannot be legislated for or voted against. But it can be trampled by what we expect of ourselves and others, by believing that our creative and passionate selves should always be subordinate to social norms. In short, by being distracted from what is true of ourselves.

There have been ups and downs since 2006 but being sure of myself is a good foundation.

School camp for academics

I’m on a writing retreat this week, spending time with some other europhile academics on the south coast of New South Wales. We’ve finished our first day by sitting around the bonfire, accompanying Molly and Johannes as they play guitar. There’s great food (thank you Don), plenty of booze (thank you Saskia) and plenty of good thinking going on. Some of us may have even written a few words.

Our retreat is the Kioloa field station, a part of the ANU. It’s rural, a few minutes walk from the beach and set up much like any other school camp (except for the good food and alcohol of course). I’m in a dorm with four other women who don’t wake me up when I’m catching up on lost sleep after the wedding with ‘race day flair’ (more on that later when I’ve found photos). The purpose of the retreat is to bring together doctoral students, postdocs (yay! that’s me!) and profs and just concentrate on writing in quiet surrounds and in the company of people who know what you’re talking about.

The only fixed item on the agenda is the lunchtime seminar – aside from that, your activities are up to you. It’s a bit of a shock at first but I think we’ll grasped the opportunity of solitude very quickly. I’ve adopted a tree outside our cottage as my writing tree, somewhere to sit, think, scribble and ponder. It’s times like this that I realise how important it is to understand myself, to know what helps me think, to know that it’s ok to put the pen or the laptop down for a while to walk along the beach or take a look at what surrounds me.

Before I started work this morning I decided to refresh myself by taking the time to stop and look at what caught my eye. I took my camera and photographed those things that struck me and reflecting on why I was attracted to a rock, a tree or some other little part of the landscape. I’ve noticed that I am attracted to texture and then to colour; a contrast in either. I like the detail that is a part of a far larger whole, in much the same way that I love the detail and precision of a case study and the larger theory that it demonstrates.

I have learned through (many, many) years of doctoral study how it is that I learn, how to ‘allow’ myself to be creative, when to let a problem settle in the back of my mind, when to drag it to the front, and when to stop and listen to the thought that has suddenly crashed my brain. And finally, I’ve got the hint about how my creativity works the same way whether it’s in academia or textiles or drawing or designing. It’s about trusting yourself, understanding your own ways and thoughts, letting it go, bringing the thoughts back in, discipline and freewheeling when time is right.

And always write it down.

I think it’s time for bed – they’ve started singing Roxanne.