I Heart Art

Anyone who knows me won’t be surprised to hear that I’m reading four different books right now in addition to the Obama Newsweek that arrived in my mailbox Saturday. It's not my glowing overachiever style, it's more of a short attention span reading style. But I’ve got the literary spectrum pretty well covered: two classic novels about life, a historical nonfiction saga about JFK, an incendiary memoir on sexual politics, and an artsy coffee table book collection of interviews called Influence.

I’ve been anxious to write about the Influence interviews since I picked up the book last week. It is a collection of interviews with creative visionaries who have made their mark in many mediums, from oils to interiors, and on many generations of artists in the twenty first century. To me, it is a brilliant attempt to proliferate the ideals, thoughts, theories, and design processes of these incredible interviewees.

I think the last time I was this excited about a book was when a friend gave me The Creative Habit by Twyla Tharp last Christmas. And, true to form, I’ve devoured each book with an insatiable desire to understand the creative force. I also watched The Discovery Channel’s Unsolved History: The Chicago Fire from Netflicks last week --just to get all my nerdy skeletons out of the closet.

To the point: there is a part of the interview with Francisco Costa when he and the interviewer are discussing a little concept called “trusting your instincts.” The interviewer tells Costa, “I don’t read any magazines. I really just try to stay in my world and figure out what I want, what makes me happy. I’ve got to trust my instincts. I really try to block out all the media and all the press, magazines, everything. At the end of the day I’m with myself, and I feel like that’s the way I’ve been able to move forward.”

I stinking love it. Not in the isolationist sense, but I was literally thinking about this the other day. I was thinking to myself, “Self, when have been the most creative times in your life? And how can I recreate that feeling?” The answer is two things: confidence and (lack of) funding.

When I think back, one of the most creative, imaginative phases of my life happened during my junior and senior years of high school. It was the perfect storm of new found driver’s license independence, local thrift stores, style experimentation, fearlessness, and naivete. As managing editor of layout and design for the school newspaper, I was the queen of my own little world. Part of my job was to write a weekly column and, by god, it was my time to preach to the people. (Read: awkward Ayn Rand phase where I’m pretty sure no one knew what the hell I was talking about --including myself). The point is that I felt like the first person in the world who thought of driving downtown Indianapolis on a Sunday afternoon to search for thrift store treasures in the all-black neighborhoods. No one knew me there for certain, and no one at school knew where I was shopping for vintage duds. I could lose myself for hours sifting through costume jewelry cases, and my exposure to that world gave me a chance to develop my own style over time (while my classmates were shopping at the mall). And my own sense of confidence.

I was voted Best Dressed by my classmates at the end of Senior year and they presented me with a cheesy plaque. I gave the plaque to the owner of my favorite thrift store as a nod to all the “friends and family” discounts they had given me over the years. Though, looking back, maybe what I should’ve done was give the owner a new CD to play in the store. I stopped there when I was in town last July, and I swear the same Doors album has been playing since 2002.

The second element is a catch-22: money. When I didn’t have my own money to shop at department stores or afford a pair of shoes in every color, I seemed to do more with less. The process of asking my mom for money in high school and instead being sent back to my closet to see if I “already had something like that,” prompted hours of dress-up behind closed doors. I can literally remember standing in my closet, looking at my clothes with a pair of scissors in my hand, ready to deconstruct something I already had.

I experienced one of these maniac moments once while my grandmother was visiting. I remember cutting up a peach-colored dress and hastily sewing it back together in time to have a new skirt for the night. Embaressed of my mom and grandmother's reaction, I tiptoed down the hardwood stairs in my A-line(ish) skirt, and ragged-hem tank top. “Oooooh, look at you,” they humored me. “Turn around, and let us see what you did. Wasn’t that a dress before?” I smiled and twirled, and just as I grabbed my purse to scurry out the door, my grandmother stopped me. “Waaaait a second,” the master seamstress said. “Look at this crooked hem in the back, it goes clear from one diagonal end to the other. Where do you think you’re going dressed like that, young lady?” Needless to say, I'll never make a decent tailor without some training.

So, sure, I still express myself through fashion, it’s just that life goes by at a different pace when you’re older. Suddenly, I don't have the time or energy to play dress-up in my closet after a long day at work --much less hem a pair of pants. It's easier to walk into Banana Republic and grab a sweater off the shelf then spend hours digging through moth-ball remains. Searching for inspiration is such an active process that most days, it's easier to let someone else do the work. Eventually, the process is unconscious. I can pick up a magazine at the grocery store or watch an hour of TV to appreciate the end-result of someone else's imaginative process ...say, Marc Jacobs?

Soon my focus wanders off into places where other artists are going ...their vision, the things that inspire them. When an artist becomes more concerned about the creativity around them, they've lost their authenticity. And I don’t feel much like an artist when I don't have a vision. If best creative state of mind means living the way I used to (minus the braces), I'll need to slow down (spend more time alone in seedy thrift stores?), set aside time to indulge my ideas, and surround myself with people who encourage me to create. As Bob Colacello once said, "Real creativity is being true to yourself and getting people to go with you. That's influence."