Foxfires

Artist’s block. Writer’s block. Creative constipation. I’m sure anyone who is reading this has suffered from it at some point. I can’t think of a single artistic person who hasn’t – at least once in their life – sat at their desk with head in hands wondering if they will ever have another inspired thought in their body.

I am not immune! In fact, I suffer quite periodically with this phenomenon, which causes me to sulk around my house in search of the Magical Cupcake of Inspiration. Or at the very least, the Somewhat Entertaining Twinkie of Unboredom.

It’s an awful feeling, really. One minute I will be basking in the glow of profound and seemingly endless inspiration, and the next minute all I want to do is watch re-runs of The Golden Girls on Lifetime. It frustrated me, until I appeased myself by thinking that sometimes creativity needed to simmer. Sometimes creativity needed inactivity, to let the full flavor of Whatever Comes Next to ripen. Random, but unavoidable.

And that’s true! Creativity does need to simmer. But I’ve recently realized something more about myself and my art, which made me appreciate that there is more of a cycle here than I had originally thought, and perhaps this will help the others of you out there who struggle with this like I do.

One day I was trying to describe to my husband how I felt when I was having Artist’s Block. Eventually I likened it to a butterfly, all vibrant with endless possibility, suddenly reverting back to the cocoon – simply wanting to be tucked away, turned inward, without any outside activity whatsoever. And that’s when it hit me. My cycles of “Artist’s Block” weren’t random fits of creative drought. I was, in fact, living the very illustration I had just presented to my husband. I was the Cocoon, and I was the Butterfly…in an endless cycle.

In Cocoon stage, I turn inward. All outward creative process stops. I do not want to pick up my digital paint brush, I do not want to pick up my camera. I want to sit and absorb my surroundings, whether that is going for a walk, reading a book, cooking, playing with the dog, staring at the ceiling, sleeping. Anything other than create. I CAN do it, if forced..but whatever I make during the Coccoon state is devoid of any heart and soul it would normally have, because it is premature. I’ve literally broke open the Cocoon too soon, and my fragile wings of creation are deformed and not yet ready for flight.

But, given time, given patience…the Cocoon will open on it’s own, and the Butterfly will emerge…healthy, whole, vibrant, and ready for takeoff. That is my creativity, that butterfly. It won’t stay in the proverbial Cocoon forever…it can’t. By it’s very nature, it HAS to emerge. But only when it is ready. Only when it is time.

It was such a relief when I finally realized what was happening. A TREMENDOUS relief to accept the fact that as an artist, this cycle of turning inward, before turning outward – is essential. Without the Cocoon, there is no Butterfly. Without formulation, there is no creation. And the butterfly cannot fly forever. It must give in to the cycle. However, unlike butterflies, who cease to be when their cycle is over… artists experience creative rebirth, time and time again. When our wings become brittle, when our energies are sapped…we simply revert to the Cocoon once more, to recharge, to heal. To reinvent.

Knowing this has made it easier to deal with. It still isn’t a cakewalk to feel that cessation of creative spark. But now I have a better understanding of what is going on. Now I have a clear grasp of what’s happening when I force creativity, and am unhappy with the results. Now I can truly revel in the times when I am free of the Cocoon…and flying high on inspiration. I no longer have to question my skill, my artistic longevity, my very interest in my longstanding passion. It’s all there, tucked safely away behind a shimmering veil. And just like the Möbius Strip – the symbol of eternity, the cycle will loop back on itself, again and again. Inward, outward. But never stopping.

So, let go of the frustration. When you feel the creative spark fade, know that it’s not because it is dying…it’s just deep in the Cocoon, waiting for the right moment to emerge and shine bright once again. Go on those walks, read those books, and let time work it’s magic…so you can work yours