Who Do You Need to Forgive?

When you look back on the journey of being an artist who do you need to forgive? I mean, if you've been doing this for any amount of time, there will be people to forgive.

The person who ripped off your idea. The person who told you to keep your day job after they saw what you made. The person who balked at your prices. The person who insulted you in front of your peers. The person who promised you that show (or book, or deal, or golden opportunity) and then flaked and disappeared. The person who never paid you for your work.

I could go on, but you get the gist.

When I look back at my creative journey and start to tally up what I call "a million little humiliations" I get overwhelmed by the sheer volume of people I could forgive. And I feel bitter all over again. Why SHOULD I forgive them? What they did sucked.

But then I remember they're not the ones being held back by the past. They're not the ones hanging on to an unresolvable situation. They're not the ones waiting for an omniscient voice to boom from the sky, "You were right! They were wrong!"

It's just plain ineffective to live in the wounded place.

(How do you know when you're living in the wounded place? When someone presents you an opportunity and you approach it defensively. When you think about your past and feel bitter. When you overcompensate by trying to be perfect. When you turn down viable offers for fear of being hurt. When you believe all the negative crap people have said about you or your work.)

Talking about this today a dear friend and fellow entrepreneur reminded me that I am not the person I used to be. I am stronger, wiser, more powerful. And because of that I would never be caught alive in most any of those situations I used to put myself in when I was younger, situations that were breeding grounds for stress, anxiety and humiliation.

The great irony is that all of those hard moments with all of those jerks are what lead me to a place of greater strength. They're actually the reason my boundaries are stronger. The reason I can say no to opportunities that seem too good to be true. The reason I can spot a jerk, or a drama queen, or an abuser, or a hustler a mile away. The reason I value peace in my life above all else.

When I look at it through that lens and see the bigger picture, I know that my creative spirit was forged in the fire, and that I can forgive those people because they were part of one big, messy, painful soul plan that helped me step into my power.

And that's pretty cool.

But you know what else? There's one person who needs forgiveness more than any of these people. Me. (Extrapolating: the person you most need to forgive is you.)

I mean, how could we have let ourselves settle for less, or ignore our intuition, or stay in an abusive situation, or allow other people's opinions to shape us so thoroughly, or believe what that rejection letter said about work we knew was true to our heart?

I try to remember that we all show up with a stunted child inside, or with a family wound, or with an unconscious pattern, and when I remember that it becomes a lot easier to give myself a break.

Every one of us has been hurt by other people. The question is, will we keep letting that pain hold us back from our creative destiny, or will we release it and move forward?

Photo credit: Patrick Humphries/CC

All Creativelike: 6 Questions with Children's Book Author Anika Denise

I recently had the great pleasure of producing and directing the above book trailer for Anika Denise, a wonderfully talented and wise children's book author. We had a blast filming her delightful family (and - extra bonus - there was copious amounts of chocolate cake!) Anika wrote about the production experience on her blog here, and I'm thrilled to feature her here today as she answers six questions about creativity and business.

1) Anika, can you tell us a little about the creative work you do? I'm a writer—mainly of children's books, although I also write poetry. Picture books were a first love, and I continue to enjoy reading them, writing them and collecting them. I love the interplay between words and illustrations, the perfectly placed page turn, the wide open wordless spread, the economy of language, the rhythm and pacing. As an art form, picture books are unique to me and endlessly fascinating. I'm not a visual artist, but I think visually—and write that way—so perhaps that's why I'm drawn to the them. I also write early chapter books and middle grade novels.

2) How would you define creativity? Creativity is channeling the gifts within you, outward. It's energy. It's how you enter the world. It can be derived from joy, pain, grief, bliss—whatever, but creativity to me is the essence of an individual, put forth. Something of the person is then recognizable in whatever he or she has created.

Conversely, I think our creations shape us. We understand ourselves a little more. We grow and change through them.

3) What are your daily and weekly habits and practices? I'd love to be able to answer this question with a more assured "this is what I do regularly," but my life doesn't work that way right now. I have three kids, one not yet in pre-school, I'm married to a freelance illustrator whose schedule can be erratic and demanding, so I work when I can, for as much time as I can manage. I have an informal bargain with myself to write at least five days a week (which I routinely break). My writer's life is unbalanced at best, consisting of long stretches of productivity followed by just as long periods of distraction. I think the key is, I understand that this is a temporary situation, that my schedule will normalize as my children grow older, and the time for a more stable writing routine will come. In short, I don't sweat it. I congratulate myself on being able to create among the chaos! If I do anything with regularity it is this: when inspiration strikes, I give over to it entirely and enjoy the process. I get outdoors for a little while every day. I try to get enough sleep. I read. Books are vital. They're the air I breathe.

4) How do you handle the balance between the creative and business ends of things? That's a very timely question. I'm in the midst of launching a new picture book and doing everything I can think of to publicize it. Publishers' marketing budgets are shrinking, which means more of the promotion falls to the author. So, at this particular moment, it feels like the business end is eclipsing the creative side, but again, it's about acceptance. Giving my book a better chance in the marketplace is a worthy endeavor, and although it pulls me away from writing, it's what I have to do. Also, I feel like marketing is creative work and try to view it that way. The book trailer we did, for instance, felt very much like making art to sell art. I love that.

5) Any advice for aspiring children's book authors? Read as much as you can. Keep writing and finish, even if you feel it's not perfect, or needs work. Finish the draft. Join the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators and go to the conferences and local chapter events. Put yourself out there. Be fearless.

Practice, patience and perseverance rule the day in this business.

6) What's next for you? Next up is a picture book with HarperCollins Children's called, "Monster Trucks!" releasing in 2016. Until now, I've exclusively worked on books with my husband Chris. This will be the first one I do with a different illustrator, so it's a new experience for me. Nate Wragg, a visual development artist for Pixar, has signed on to illustrate. I'm excited to see how he brings it to life. Chris and I have another picture book in the works, and I continue to slowly develop longer works of fiction that I hope to have under contract soon. I just need to follow my own advice: be brave, and finish.

Anika Denise is the author of “Baking Day at Grandma’s,” (Philomel, 2014) “Bella and Stella Come Home,” (Philomel, 2010) and “Pigs Love Potatoes” (Philomel, 2007.) In 2016, HarperCollins Children’s Books will release her forthcoming title, “Monster Trucks!” Her books have been praised by Parents’ Choice Foundation, The Bulletin for the Center for Children’s Books, Publishers Weekly, School Library Journal, Booklist, Kirkus Reviews and the Rhode Island Center for the Book. She lives with her husband and three daughters in Barrington, Rhode Island. For more information about Anika’s books, visit her website.

All Creativelike: An Interview with Poet Jennifer Lighty

There is not much I can say about my poet friend Jennifer Lighty that wouldn't be revealed by reading her words below - she is deeply soulful, articulate, dedicated, and a brilliant wordsmith. I thank my lucky stars for being in her bright, celestial orbit.

How do you define creativity? My hands in motion on this keyboard typing letters that signify sounds remembered in my body—that is creativity. And these letters that merge into words that my brain identifies with subjects seen, tasted, touched, smelled and heard, sounds I first heard when I floated in the dark inside my mother’s body.

We invent stories to make sense out of chaos, or to praise it, depending on which archetypal deity calls to our souls. We create. (Eros, the Greek god of desire and creativity was the son of the goddess Chaos.) When we create we reach into the dark, the womb, into this mystery, and manifest what we receive in the physical world.

Creativity is an everyday miracle like being born.

Tell me about the first poem you remember writing, or first experience where you felt you were "on" to something with words. The first poem I remember writing was in 4th grade. I was 10 years old. It was a haiku:

The old dead tree rocked dangerously, and with one last groan fell to the ground.

I remember being very pleased with it. I have no idea where it came from or what I felt like writing it, but I do remember afterwards that I knew I was a poet. I wanted to be a writer even before then, from the time before I could read. I wanted to read so badly I memorized books that my mother read aloud to me and pretended to read them as I turned the pages.

How does a poem get birthed? Are there stages as with a human pregnancy and birth? For me, there is a masculine and feminine element involved in the creation of a poem. It’s a matter of becoming actively receptive, of being open to both what is in my immediate environment and what wants to come through me from other realms.

Words feel so good when they rub together in certain ways! If I have an idea I want to convey without an image, I search for an image until I find one that feels right. It needs to be intelligible and pleasurable, by pleasurable I mean sound good. I do have to be careful of this though, I have such an attraction to beauty that I have sometimes done a disservice to my subjects by making them sound beautiful when they were not at all. In those cases it’s a matter of finding sounds that match the experience, ugly or harsh sounds, or playing with the punctuation or line break to break the rhythm up.

I also pay attention to where silence wants to enter the poem. Sometimes these silences say even more than the words.

I pay attention to all of these things—every word, line break, comma, period, italics, question mark—every mark on the page, in fact. I am getting better at hearing the line—where to break it so that it has the greatest emotional impact, because I have become better at hearing my own voice, and not the voices of all the other poets I’ve read or heard.

You work is deeply connected to both the earth and spirit. Can you talk about walking between these worlds and what inspires you? It’s not a matter of walking between earth and spirit for me, they are the same world. I am definitely inspired by Earth’s beauty. I want to praise that beauty. I also want to lament what we have lost and are losing as you read these words.

I also want to create a space for people to grieve their personal losses.

I wrote a poem about the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting in Newtown in which the natural world acts as a mirror for the loss of those children and teachers. It takes place on the oyster farm where I was working the day of the shooting and everything I saw that day—egrets, crabs, mud, sun, shells—was so deeply infused with the symbolic the earth became a mirror of what had happened, and a prayer to the spirit world to help us get through such a terrible tragedy.

I am inspired to create something as elegant and simple and gracious as an egret at the edge of a marsh. I want my evocation of that egret to open someone’s heart to a long-suppressed well of grief inside themselves. I want to write poems that help people grieve and become more fully present to the world, more compassionate for having suffered, and I know this is saying a lot—I want my poems, through the process I’ve just described, to inspire people to make choices that don’t harm themselves or Earth. I have a dread of being grandiose (probably because I am), but I agree with William Carlos Williams that, “It is difficult to get the news from poems, yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there.”

You not only write poems, but also books, blog posts, and articles. How do you determine which form the words want to be? It’s a matter of listening and intention. Sometimes the two merge—those are the best times. With a blog post, I intend. If I’m lucky I may come up with some poetic words, too! The three novels I wrote probably could have been written as short stories or poems, saving me many years worth of labor—I was just really fixated on the idea of being a famous novelist so I kept trying. My articles and essays are lyrical, but are also attempts to convey information or a story. This is also possible in a poem by the way, sometimes I just prefer the art of the sentence over the art of the line.

Poetry, the art of the line, is my greatest love because poetry has taught me to listen, not just to what I want to hear, but to what the Irish poet-hero Finn McCool learned to hear, “the music of what is.” When I listen to what is, I know what form the words want to be.

What's the most exhilarating part of writing? The most exhilarating part of writing is when I enter into a state of being unaware of time.

What's the most challenging part of writing? The most challenging is letting go of my preconceptions, fears, and desires and letting the words tell me what they want. I call it finding the poem within the poem. I think this is easier for a lot of other writers, but for me it takes a lot of digging. Part of this is because I have a fear of being exposed, so it’s difficult for me to be vulnerable, which has led to some dishonest moments in past poems. I still have those dishonest moments, but I am better at catching them and work through them now.

I met the poet Ellen Bass this past winter. She writes with what I would call no filter about her personal life. I asked her what her relationship was like with her inner editor. Did she have to get past this editor to expose so much of herself? Her reply was enlightening and helpful—and humble. She replied that we’re all human and we’re all going through the same things. Those words helped me let go of a lot of ego and write more freely about myself, which ironically has helped me let go of the driving need to write about past personal traumas.

I don’t need to be witnessed in the same way any more, I witnessed myself. My vision has turned outwards.

Any daily or weekly habits and practices? I’m not good with routines, but I do write every day! I live in a stream of words and images that I try to write down as they occur. If I can’t give them my full attention at the moment, I tell them I will soon and ask them to please wait for me. I read all the time—poetry, fiction and non-fiction. And physical movement is an important part of my creative process—walking, dance, riding my bike, and yoga.

Advice for aspiring writers? That’s hard. There’s something about figuring it out for yourself as a writer that is just so important. I have an incredible teacher, a man named Fran Quinn. When I first started working with him it took me two years to finish one poem! This was after writing poems for 15 years or so. I was going crazy thinking I was the worst poet in the world, completely doubting myself. Finally, I started to have breakthroughs where I would understand some simple thing that would help my poems come closer to completion, and I would say to him, “Why didn’t you just tell me that a year ago?” He always laughed, somewhat demonically and certainly with delight.

He wanted me to understand it on my own because he knew then I would really understand it in my bones, the knowledge of where to break a line or when to use a four or three line stanza would come naturally to me because I had also learned how to set boundaries within myself. He was willing to be my guide in getting there, but I had to do the work.

So that, if you could call it advice, is my advice. Do the work on all levels. Let your poems and novels and essays teach you about yourself. What do you need to change within in order to bring them into the world?

If you listen deeply enough, if you are devoted and willing to work, they will not fail you. They want to be heard.

Jennifer Lighty is a poet and teacher living on Block Island, RI. Her poems and essays have been published in many journals such as The Beloit Poetry Journal, The Island Review, The North American Review, and Poet Lore. She was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize by the Beloit and for the Best New Poets 2014 anthology, and is the 2014 Merit Fellow in Poetry for the State of Rhode Island. Read more of her work and about her upcoming e-course developed to connect those on a creative path with earth-based spirituality on her website here.

Creative Process: Building a Painting

One of my favorite things is to watch a piece of art go through the stages of birth, from conception to completion. Just like with people, artworks have their unique way of coming into the world and expressing themselves. No two are exactly alike.

Artist Karen Rand Anderson recently posted a series of images tracking the journey of a painting, from photographic reference (above), to sketch, to finished canvas. With Karen's permission I'm reposting those photos here. (You can read the full post, with Karen's comments about each stage, on her blog here.)

What I love most about seeing the whole process is being witness to THE SEARCH, the journey every artist takes down the creative path without a clear road map. It's a triumph when we find our way to the other side!

"More Snow" by Karen Rand Anderson, (c) 2014

What does your creative process look like? Document it and tag me in your Facebook or Twitter post!

All Creativelike: An Interview with Writer Daisy Abreu

Not everyone is lucky enough to have a fun, witty, talented college roommate who can rattle off the titles, actors, and songs from classic movies of the 1940's and 50's like nobody's business, but I was. That person is my friend and fellow writer Daisy Abreu, who has gone on to pursue writing with dogged determination and great passion, becoming published along the way. Below she doles out some solid wisdom about the act of putting pen to paper, and tells us how she's been exploring her Cuban-American roots in the process. How do you define creativity? I struggled with this one. For me, creativity is having a vision and figuring out how to make it work. I love to brainstorm because it pushes me to focus and everything else is out of my mind but the subject at hand.

When do you feel at your creative peak (whether it's times of day, seasons of the year, or otherwise)? Having time and space to work while I was at the Vermont Studio Center in October allowed me to look at my writing time as a full 24-hour period. I didn’t have outside obligations to use as excuses for not writing. During those four weeks, I found I was most productive in the late morning and early afternoon. That said, my favorite time to work is late at night. I feel more focused when everything outside my window is quiet.

Last we spoke you were writing about your Cuban heritage. I've heard some people say all storytelling is a search for identity. Does that ring true to you or not? Absolutely true. When I started working on my essay collection, I was working solely from my memories. I wrote what I remembered from my childhood, stories about being around my family and community. The deeper I went into those stories, the more I discovered about my family and myself. Even though I grew up in a community largely made up of families similar to my own, I uncovered so much working on the collection. Not just from research and reading and looking at old photos, but from talking to my peers about how we grew up. I did a series of interviews with former classmates for my third semester project (part of the requirement for graduation from the MFA program) and was surprised to learn how similar and dissimilar our experiences had been. The men and women I interviewed were all my age, and I assumed they had the same experience I did. I assumed they had all been born in the United States, all had siblings that were much older than they were, and that their parents had all fled Cuba in the same way. Only one person out of the four had an experience that was remotely similar to mine. I also believed I was the only one whose parents had been reluctant to share the stories of their journeys, but every person I spoke to said they had not been able to get their parents to talk until they were much older.

The essays also gave me an opportunity to go deeper in conversation with my siblings and my mother about their personal histories. My siblings helped me get my mom to talk about her life in Cuba. My sister sent me copies of documents I didn’t know existed: a telegram my father sent to an aunt who was already living in America, paperwork from their stay in Florida, all of this ephemera that made their story—my story—so much more real.

You received a master's degree in writing a few years ago. What were the pros and cons of that experience? Pros: spending time with other writers and being full-on word nerds for ten days at a time, learning how to talk about the work, learning how to give and accept constructive criticism, professors who pushed as much as they praised, being introduced to writers whose work I might not have discovered on my own, developing the discipline to come home and read and write after a full day at work.

Cons (challenges): trying to balance a full-time job with full-time schoolwork, pushing through the writing of difficult scenes (lots of writing and crying), getting past feeling like an imposter “Why am I doing this? What makes me think I can?”

What do you find to be the most exhilarating part of writing? Two things. First, reading a great sentence. The kind of sentence that makes you reach for a pen and a notecard so you can copy it down. There is a sense of possibility in that for me. It inspires me. Well, it makes me want to give up. But then it makes me want to work even harder.

I write in longhand when I am trying to sort out an idea or a scene. When I’m typing things up later, I sometimes come across a sentence I don’t remember writing, and I think it’s a good sentence. Not a great one necessarily, but a good one. That is exhilarating.

What do you find to be the most challenging part of writing? Not knowing where or how to start a piece, and allowing the not knowing to keep me from starting to work.

What are your goals this year with your creative work? To say “I’m a writer,” when people ask me what I do.  To get back to writing every day for more than one hour at a stretch. To send my work out and collect an awesome stack of rejections (and hopefully a few acceptances).

I’m also leaving my full-time job in two months to pursue freelance and contract work. Ultimately, I want to create a space for writers in New Haven that provides studios, opportunities for collaborations with other writers, workshops and classes, readings, and tutoring for students. That’s the big dream.

Any daily habits or routines? I carry index cards and a pen to write down questions I can use as prompts or passages from things I’m reading that I think are beautiful. I am not writing every day (yet), but I am reading every day, usually before bed, which is something I’ve done since I was very young.

Advice for aspiring writers? Share your work with other writers and be open to giving and receiving constructive criticism. Read your work in public every chance you get. Keep reading. Keep writing.

DCA photo by Chris Randall

Daisy Christina Abreu is a first generation Cuban-American born and raised in West New York, New Jersey. She received a bachelor’s degree in English from the University of Hartford, and an MFA in Creative Writing at Fairfield University where she served as co-editor of creative non-fiction for the online literary journal, Mason's Road. Her work has been published in the online journal Label Me Latina and The Arts Council of Greater New Haven’s Arts Paper. Daisy lives in New Haven, Connecticut. She can be reached by email at daisycabreu@gmail.com or via her blog here. Top photo by Matthew J. Feiner. Bio pic by Chris Randall.

All Creativelike: An Interview with Painter Whitney Knapp

It's an amazing thing to watch someone blossom as an artist. Many, many moons ago I worked in a gallery with Whitney Knapp. She was just starting out as a painter then, and over the years I've watched her go through years of art schooling to hone her craft and become an art educator herself. Her work continues to astound me, and I find her deep dedication to it hugely inspiring. Read on for her wise, insightful words about artmaking, education and creativity.

How do you define creativity? Creativity, to me, is using the imagination to generate unique, fresh, and inventive ideas.Within a visual language, I think this translates to innovation in approach and technique.

There’s an important distinction for me between creating versus making. I consider making to be the production of something from something, whereas I define creating as the construction of something from nothing. This difference places me in the position of a maker, an idea that is really at the heart of my own artmaking.

What is it you love about the medium of paint? Color is what I most love about paint. I have a greater affinity for oils than for other materials and for more specific reasons. I’m interested in the physicality of oil paint… the way it can be layered, mixed, diluted, blended; and the flexibility that this ultimately provides.

When I was in art school I was challenged to consider why I was using oils, and how they could be best employed to convey my subject.  I began thinking about building up the texture to suggest grass, allowing my paint to run when describing water, scraping, dragging, pushing, pulling, etc. I find the infinite possibilities of approach so appealing.

A lot of your canvases are significant in size. What is it about a larger canvas that draws you to it? My larger work requires significant time to complete and I am attached to the ambition of these paintings. There is a power generated in bigger pieces that is absent in my smaller paintings. I enjoy the sense of being in my work during its construction, and recognize that the energy in my large pieces reflect this immersion. My larger work allows me to inhabit the paintings and I feel more invested in them.

This is due in part to of the amount of time spent painting, but also to my involvement in their entire execution. For these pieces, I cut and tack raw canvas to my studio wall, gesso the canvas, and later stretch the final piece. This hands-on approach continues to be a more intimate experience than working on pre-prepared small canvases.

How does nature play a role in your work? Nature plays a tremendous role in my painting because my work is really about my own faith, as reflected through the natural world. I consider the emulation of our natural world to be an act of reverence to the Creator. This undertaking reminds me of my subordinate position of maker. My work is also about place, and I paint in order to acknowledge places that have been significant in my life.

Finally, through painting I am able to encounter a heightened understanding of my own environment. This might be one of the most exciting things about making art.

You have an MFA and also teach art. In what ways has education (and being an educator) informed your work? Working toward my MFA was instrumental in shaping me into the artist I am today. Art school challenged my aesthetic and forced me to address difficult questions about my own work. It also provided me with the opportunity to discuss my convictions and explore new ideas. The critiques were often painfully honest, but provided valuable feedback.

Perhaps most importantly, I was exposed to a community of artists I deeply admire.

Being an educator has impacted my work equally. By providing students with an introduction to various techniques and media, I am inevitably inspired to employ them myself. Also, I learn by observing my students. Oftentimes their approach varies significantly from my own in ways I couldn’t have imagined. Teaching also provides my schedule with a sense of structure that can often be missing for self-employed artists. Finally, I’ve found that facilitating critiques and providing feedback has fine-tuned my ability to problem solve in my own studio.

Recently your work had a shift to a more impressionistic style. What accounts for that shift? I believe that artists should never become too complacent with their own work, because this will ultimately lead to the production of stagnant and stale paintings. If one’s process has become too easy or too mechanical, then I think it means one has been in the same place for too long.

I recently began painting with a knife in order to experiment. Working with a knife has contributed to the thick paint application and more vivid color relationships that make my new work feel more impressionistic in style. I find that my colors don’t become muddied working in this capacity, and I like the thicker, layered textures that a knife can generate.

I’m also interested in edges developed with a knife, and enjoy negotiating transitions in this sense. I’ve had to surrender a sense of control working without my brushes, but find it to be liberating. I feel as though I’ve just begun to scratch the surface with this approach, and have a lot more territory to explore.

Any daily habits or rituals? Unfortunately, I’m much too disorganized to have any daily habits, but there are things I’ve found to be helpful in the production of my work. I make a point of looking at other artists’ work: in books, galleries, museums, and online. This serves both to inform my work, and to provide me with inspiration.

I also take photos constantly. I’m primarily a studio painter so I find images to be helpful as reference. Life is busy and oftentimes I can’t begin painting the moment I feel inspired. I take photos to document my inspiration, which enables me to revisit it later.

Favorite artists or influences? I’m influenced by a stylistically varied group of both historical and contemporary artists. This is by no means an exhaustive list, but the following are some of my favorite painters: Alex Kanevsky, Gerhard Richter, Zaria Forman, Bo Bartlett, Ran Ortner, Richard Diebenkorn, Stuart Shils, Antonio Lopez Garcia, Rackstraw Downes, Frederick Edwin Church, J. M. W. Turner, John Constable, Jacob Van Ruisdael, and George Inness.

Advice to young painters? It’s crucial that painters of all ages take their work seriously and make it a priority. A staggering percentage of art students abandon their direction after graduation. I vividly remember making a commitment to myself while I was in graduate school that I would never step away from my work. It’s imperative that you believe you can accomplish the goals you’ve laid out for yourself. It’s important to cling to your convictions.

Artists must build time into their schedule for artmaking, as painting is a craft improved only by doing. Be willing to experiment, to try different techniques, and be open to failure. I’ve learned just as much from what doesn’t work, as I have from my successes. Place yourself in a community of artists, look at as much art as you possibly can, apply to shows and subscribe to mailings.

Finally, know that vulnerability is necessary in order to achieve growth.

Whitney Knapp was born in Connecticut, lived in Surrey, England for nearly a decade, and currently resides in Virginia. She earned her BFA from Denison University, and her Post Baccalaureate Certificate and her Master of Fine Arts Degree from Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts. She is represented by galleries in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Rhode Island, and she teaches drawing and painting courses at several community colleges in Maryland and Virginia. You can see more of her work on her website here. 

All Creativelike: An Interview with Printmaker Jenni Freidman

Jenni Freidman is one of those artists I've always admired for her consistent dedication. I was super fortunate to be able to attend art school with Jenni in the - cough - 1990's at Hartford Art School in Connecticut, where she now teaches. (Lucky kids!) And, she was as steadfast and committed then as she is now. While her work has changed over the years, she never fails to bring poetry to the process. And, damn, if this gal doesn't know how to rock a party dress. (See Exhibit A above.)

Jenni, how would you define creativity? Wow! Isn’t that the question! Right now I would say being able to solve problems of all kinds in non-traditional ways. Thinking in an abstract way, finding your voice and having the courage to stand by it. I am sure I would have answered differently 10 years ago, and if you ask me in 10 years I will have another answer.

Tell me about your journey to becoming a printmaker. What is it about printmaking that called you to it? I had no idea what printmaking really was when I went to school. I took a class with Jim Lee as a freshman and just decided that what ever he was teaching the next year, that’s what I would take! It turned out to be an introduction to etching course and I fell instantly in love. There is something really wonderful about taking particular steps to reach a goal that is very satisfying to me. It sounds so cliché, but the process was really exciting! There is a magic in the making that I don’t find with anything else. There is part that you can control and part where you have to let go. That balance is really good for me in making my work, and in my life.

When do you feel at your creative peak, or most inspired? Inspiration comes in lots of different ways and in different sizes. My daughter Nona is a huge inspiration, she acts with CRAZY confidence in almost everything she does and it has given me more courage to take risks in my work. Also, I work best always with LONG stretches of time, where I can really immerse myself in what I am doing. Those times are sacred and special, I don’t find them very often. My creative juices flow more like fits and spurts now.

I find, however, that work creates work, so the more time I can spend making, the more time seems to open up, and more ideas start coming.

I am at a really exciting point in my work now. I am just at the beginning of something new. I feel tentative a bit, but mostly excited to see what happens.

For a long time nature played a big role in your work. Can you talk about that? I love natural forms and phenomena. I feel guilty a lot, because I act more as an observer than an active participant. I am not a camping girl, and I am terrified of bugs. But I love to look and to learn. I have always been able to find a metaphor or a kind of explanation for what I am feeling in my life in the forms of the natural world. It has helped me make sense of things both in times of darkness and in light.

Your recent has been more colorful and, perhaps, more about pattern. You've also started integrating other materials into your prints. Can you tell me about that shift, and what you're uncovering with the mixed media process? Yes! I mentioned before what an inspiration my daughter is for me, and in lots of ways. I would have NEVER described myself as girly before she was born. It seems though, that she changed me. Maybe it was all the adorable clothes and toys, maybe it is that she was ALL princess when she was very young, but it could be just becoming a mother, but I am all pink and sparkle now.

I took up baking, scoured stores for adorable aprons and started looking at things I would have never thought to look at, much less be inspired by before. I would go into candy stores, just to look. I started obsessing over fabric designers, color, texture and pattern. It got to the point where I found that what I was inspired by had nothing to do with the work I was making. I decided I had to make a radical shift and teach myself how to find PLAY and JOY in the work and in my life.

It is the first time in my life I went after something like that. The melancholy in the work was inherent in me, it was easy after a while, which is part of the reason I needed to stop. It wasn’t where I wanted to be anymore.

The manipulating of the prints really came from spending time with you in Rhode Island. I had been fascinated with cut paper and embroidery for a while, but felt like I wouldn’t let myself do it. You gave me permission, and the rest is history! THANK YOU!!!* It is just starting and I have a long way to go, but I love the object”ness” that the sewing and cutting create. It allows me to layer in a very physical way. (*Interviewers Note: She's giving me WAY too much credit here. She's nice like that.)

You are also a professor at University of Hartford's Hartford Art School. How does teaching inform your art making, and vice versa? I love my job, and it’s like a dream come true to be able to teach at the Hartford Art School. The students challenge me all the time to learn new things, both technically and conceptually so I can be a good resource for them. They open my mind and help me to examine and re-examine what art is all about. I don’t think I would ask those questions on my own and I LOVE being part of the community. It’s like a second family.

I mostly try to keep my art making separate from my teaching. I want students to find their own way. I, of course, have my biases, as we all do, but I try to keep them in check so I can help them explore their own subject matter.

You recently had a solo show in NYC - Congrats! What was the like for you? So many artists hold that experience as a pinnacle of career. Was it everything it's cracked up to be? It was and wasn’t. The best metaphor I can make is to my wedding. We planned for a year, had all the details attended to, and made sure everything would go off without a hitch. It was expensive and over in an instant. What I learned about the wedding was that it was a blip in the span of our relationship. That what happens before and after that one day is far more important. It is important to do it, because it’s a marker, but it is only a moment in a big line of moments.

If you are worth your salt, you make love and art last for more than just a moment.

What are your influences or favorite artists? My favorite artists change all the time, depending on what I am trying to deal with in my work. Right now I am hugely inspired and humbled byLeslie Dill. She speaks in poetry and her work is weightless and heavy all at once. I cry every time I hear her speak, it goes straight to my bones. I love Agnes Martin and Vija Celmins. There are countless friends whose work I have in my home that light me up on a daily basis. I drink and eat from pieces made from artists' hands and sit now typing surrounded by work of my students and friends. Feeling pretty blessed, actually.

Any advice to aspiring printmakers? Do it because you love it. Make the best most honest work you can. Don't be too hard on yourself. Take lots of risks. Share your work with others.

Jenni Freidman makes prints and drawings, as well as limited edition books. Her work has been shown in exhibitions across the United States and abroad. She teaches at the Hartford Art School at the University of Hartford, and lives in West Hartford with her husband Brian, daughter Nona, and their dog Vinnie. More info about her and her work can be found on her website HERE.

"Art school. 1993. I'm taking a class with a visiting artist named Michael Singer, a mild-mannered, thoughtful - and highly acclaimed - sculptor who would say things like, 'You don't have to move to New York after you graduate. You can make your art - and make it well - from anywhere.' The class was staring at a project I'd put up for critique. It was a wall piece with fabric wrapped around the stretcher bars, and various smaller bits of fabric stitched on top. At the time my work was very sociopolitical in nature, so I'm sure it had some point of outrage anchoring the subject matter. Probably I considered it a 'quilt painting,' though I really can't remember the details. What I do remember is Michael staring at the work for a long while then simply getting up and turning it over, exposing all the frayed fabric ends and scores of stringy bits dangling off the back.

Then he looked at me and said, 'This. This is what you were trying to say.'

In that moment, I fully understood the true meaning of materials. My piece was not about whatever literal thing I was attempting to crudely convey with color and fabric. What Michael taught me in that moment was how to get beneath the message and into the soul of a work of art. What I was trying to say had everything to do with connection, the stitching together of disparate parts, and there was no better way to convey that than to turn the painting over.

I think of this when I get stuck in my work, writing, fine art or otherwise. And, when I feel I'm not quite getting it right, I imagine turning the piece over in my mind to see its skeleton, and to find out what truly wants to be revealed."

All Creativelike: An Interview with Musician Jenee Halstead

I have no idea how musicians do what they do. I've never taken a music class, never even dabbled with an instrument (unless you count banging a djembe at a drum circle from time to time, which, really, I don't). Ah, but who cares. I embrace the mystery, and I love losing myself in sound.

Lucky gal that I am, I've gotten to see singer/songwriter Jenee Halstead make her magic many times over the years. She's an incredible talent with a unique voice. Plus, she is also the QUEEN of changing up hairdos. Boldness and reinvention ain't got nothin' on this gal!

Listen to few of Jenee's haunting, soulful songs here, here and here while you read her insightful interview about the creative process.

Jenee, how long have you been songwriting, and what got you started? I started writing songs twelve years ago when I was twenty-five. It was in response to learning things about my family history, and about facing aspects of my own life that seemed unsavory, aspects that were causing me to have depressive moods and feelings of helplessness. I had always envisioned myself writing songs when I was a young girl. When I finally got around to it, it was more of a coping mechanism than anything else. I knew I wanted to write and express my emotions, but I felt it was so late in the game for me that I didn’t have a lot of expectation. I thought I was too old to start a writing career. Ha! Isn’t that hilarious?! Here I am at 37, feeling like I have barely scratched the surface with the songwriting process. Initially, I think my songs were really terrible. Just too self indulgent with not enough universal feelings that make a song reach out to others. There is a way to hold this space for a song and have it be personal and profoundly universal. This is the secret to the best creations, that they are both microcosmic and macrocosmic.

"I still never know how to write a song when I sit down. I get so scared and think, 'What am I doing?' I feel like a newborn."

How would you define creativity? For me, creativity is a channeling. There's an initial spark that comes from somewhere, a bothersome sort of feeling on the side of my brain or my left shoulder, and it feels like a thought, but is much deeper than that. It “comes in” or drops down from wherever and literally sits there for a little while, but not long! I must act on the feeling (via dictation), or hold it in as long as I can until I get to a dictation tool. This feeling is a door to the great subconscious energy of my mind emerging to dance with me. Somehow, through a writing exercise, a walk, a drive, or washing the dishes, I open myself up to this thing or feeling.  And, when I am open - which can be at just about any minute I desire now if I am present - there will be something ripe to pick, as long as I sit down and take the time to get it out.

"I guess the key to creativity is the parameters. Each of us as creator beings is gifted with the parameters. The parameters are what help us define something specific to turn that thought form or dream into the manifested thing we hope for."

Do you have any daily or weekly habits and practices? I don’t have any. It is terrible. Literally terrible. To be honest, I spend too much time allowing myself to spin out from daily life and my smart phone. I think smart phones rob us of our ability to be with ourselves...especially in the kind of peaceful and grounded way that is required in the creative process. Some people create really well in chaos. I cannot. In order to have daily or weekly habits or practices you have to be very grounded. I am often caught up in the business side of managing my art and my life, and it can take over and keep me from doing the thing I want to do - am meant to do - more often.

Where does inspiration come from? Inspiration can come from the most surprising places and can be such a gift of wonder. Sometimes inspiration makes absolutely no sense. It causes me to question who I am, in a good way. It's like learning something about yourself that you didn’t know existed. Why are we inspired by some things and not others? What is “universal inspiration,” such as a musical piece, or a movie that grips everyone in the room, vs. something that only moves us personally to do the work we are doing? Ultimately inspiration comes from a need to interface with the mystery of being human and our ability to create. It tugs at emotion. There is always an emotional core at the center of inspiration.

When do you feel most open to your creativity, or at your creative peak? I feel most open to my creativity when I just sit down and give it half a chance. It is kind of funny that way. I don’t really have to try too hard. I just need to show up and keep on showing up. It always gives me something. There is always a gift. I feel at my peak when I am able to hold the energy of creativity and stick with it, not let it burn me out, or cause me to have to stop. I want to hold the channel (sort of like being able to hold an electrical current) for longer periods of time and with more regularity. I don’t think I am anywhere near my creative peak in terms of my life’s work, though. If I spent more time and gave this creative thing half a chance on a daily basis, and produced years of material, I don’t know if I would even begin to scratch the surface of this peak. Does it have an arc?

Some say music is the only art form that's truly universal. No matter age, race, or economic status it seems everyone loves some form of music. Why do you think that is? Everyone loves music, because music is the language of the soul. Music is vibration. It requires no words, no explanation. It is the color for feelings, like a palette. One strike of a bow on a cello in a certain key can soothe and define the way someone is feeling inside without a single word being uttered. If I am feeling melancholy, and someone plays a minor tone and is also present with the tone they are striking, I feel totally understood and soothed at the same time. It is the recognition and acknowledgement of such melancholy in music that allows us to strike that personal chord deep within ourselves.

"Bones are resonators. Music, made of vibration, resonates deep within our bones."

Tell me about writing your lyrics vs. developing melodies? Lyrics and melodies are tricky. Many times I find if I am initially writing a song with lyrics and melody together then the final product ends up nothing like the original. There is maybe one line in that first draft that is the golden nugget and remains at the core of the final outcome. If I am writing first without music, then the lyric content seems to be much more stable. Lyrics often require a lot of editing for me, as well as having a great co-writer/editor. My producer Evan Brubaker is wonderful in this regard. It is almost as if we have the same brain. With melodies, they either come out as whole pieces or again, like songs, have to be reworked and reworked and reworked. This is again where Evan comes in. He can take a melody I am working on and just expand it, or turn it in a way that more fully expresses what I want to say.

Do you write on a guitar or piano? I like to write on piano these days because I am so bad at it that all I can do is concentrate on the melody. It is a very linear instrument. Everything is lined up right before you, so you aren’t confused about the type of chord you are playing.

You've played venues around the world. What's it like going to a foreign place and looking out on a new crowd? I love it.  It is always nerve-racking, but people are pretty gracious everywhere I go. One woman came up to me after a show and had her friend translate. She spoke little to no English. She did not understand the subject of my songs, but said she knew exactly what I was saying the entire time, and that I had given her a lovely gift. I try to concentrate on that when I am nervous about a new audience regardless of where I am playing.

What are you working on now? I am working on trying to develop better writing habits and learning technology. I won a grant from Club Passim (in Cambridge, Massachusetts) in January and bought a synthesizer. Now I want to take the time to learn it. I have not started to compile any work for my next album.

Favorite artist or influence? Right now, Norwegian singer-songwriter Susanne Sundfør gives me hope in everything. She is a full-blown tour de force that is already 100% in her artistry. She started out a bit more in the singer-songwriter realm, then moved into synth and electronic based music on her last album. The emotional landscape of her music is challenging, mature and profound.

You recently quit your job to become a full-time musician? What lead up to that decision and how are you feeling about it now? I felt like I needed to really pursue what I was doing, and give it a fair shake. Waitressing was eating up my time and energy. I was watching my friends zoom past me career-wise. Right now I am a month out and have not had a lot of time to put together shows, etc. because I am still trying to piece together my part-time work. I am happy to not be waiting tables, but I am hoping I don’t get further off my course by having to piece together income with performance. It can be a tricky balance and I am open for new opportunities to come in.

Any advice for other aspiring musicians? Get clear about why you are pursuing a career in music. Talk to a lot of other songwriters/musicians who are working, and make sure you understand fully what you are getting yourself into. It is not a money-making venture these days unless you are a world-renowned performer/artist. If you are doing it because you can’t possibly imagine your life without it, then you are probably on the course to pursue it. However, this doesn’t mean it will be easy.  It is where the hard work starts.

Jenee Halstead grew up Spokane, Washington, exploring her mother’s garden and singing along to records with her Dad. In middle school she transformed into the rarest of birds - an athletic choir geek who sang medieval choral works, but loved Led Zeppelin and Dolly Parton. She wrote quietly on her own for years, moving from Spokane, to Seattle, to Alaska, and finally to Boston in 2007. She can be reached via her website, on Facebook or Twitter. 

All Creativelike: An Interview with Artist Sara E. Lynch

Sara E. Lynch cracks me up. She makes animal mugs with little feet on the underside, and turns a head of cauliflower into a mortuary urn for a beloved cat. It's hard not to be drawn in by her attention to detail, technical mastery, and whimsy. Though I know Sara mainly as a ceramic artist, she's adept in multiple mediums (Lucky dog!), and a pretty smart businessperson to boot.

Sara, how would you define creativity? I would say creativity is the skill of finding a new and different solution to a problem. My daily problem is: I have this damp, mushy material called clay, what can I do with it? This needs to be looked at without preconceived notions or limitations so you can explore all possible solutions then decide what is best. The process of creativity involves being open-minded, pondering as many options as possible, and then eliminating them one by one until you have a solution you think is worth trying. Then, you need to focus and test your solution to see if it's any good. If not, go back to the beginning again, or order a pizza.

What started you on the path to becoming a ceramic artist? This is a rather funny answer. I did one clay project in high school and HATED it. I felt it was unpredictable and way too technical, so I stuck with painting, drawing, and photography. Then I got a full scholarship to Alfred University, which is a great art school, but also a world-renowned ceramics school. Although I was set on being a painter, I couldn't turn down free tuition. When it came time to choose sophomore classes I figured I might as well try a wheel class since it was such a good place for clay. I had zero ideas about how pottery should be, and my teacher was much more into using the wheel as a tool rather than making finished products. Many of the students with prior pottery experience struggled, while I just explored whatever idea struck me. It was the only class I got an A in, so I signed up for it again, and again, and again.

What is it about clay that draws you to it more than other art mediums? I actually wouldn't say I am drawn to it more them other mediums. I do a lot of photography, jewelry, and weird mixed media paintings as well. I am a lucky recipient of a grant to expand my ceramics studio, so it's been taking up more of my time, but I still love all of the other things I do. I love clay because I can create a useful object that is also art. This contrast creates a really compelling tension. My painting, jewelry, and photography work also focuses around a combination of art and craft. I obsessively sew stuff on my paintings, machine stitch my photographs, and my jewelry is usually classified as art jewelry because it is so unusual. This probably comes from going to an art school with a strong connection to crafts, as well as me being a bit of a rebel.

When do you feel most open to your creativity or at your creative peak? It's weird, but I often settle down to do my best work at midnight or later. This can make normal activities, like going to the bank and mailing stuff, difficult, but I love it. When I finally quit my day job last September it was such a relief to finally be able to get work done and sleep more than four hours a night. I also do various physical activities such as swimming, biking, yoga, and distance running. I love getting to work after a really great yoga class or other activity. It's like all my ideas and creative energy had time to percolate and now they can all come out.

One of the things I love about your work is the humor you bring to it. Where does that come from, and is it a conscious decision you've made or a happy accident, so to speak? The first artist talk I ever gave was to a group of mostly older ceramic artists that I really respected. I put my first slide up and everyone started laughing. Not in a mean way, but in a "this-stuff-is-really-funny" way. I decided to go with it, and I now give an absolutely hysterical artist talk that people love. It's really great, because you can't be stressed when you're laughing, so I actually enjoy giving talks. With my work, I am interested in the push and pull between the humorous and darker aspects. I try to keep my work in the middle of these two qualities, but sometimes it veers a bit more towards one or the other.

How do you get your art out into the world? I sell most of my work online to people in California, Western Canada, the UK, and Australia via Etsy.com and my website. I'm not really sure why this is. I also use the site CustomMade.com to get many of my commissions. I do about 2 to 4 gallery shows around the continental US per year, and a few craft fairs to mingle with the locals. When I first quit my day job many people were worried I wouldn't make it because they knew someone else who tried to make a go of it as an artist 30 or so years ago and it didn't work out. I appreciated their concern, but I wasn't really sure how to explain that with the internet it is very easy to find your audience and get your work to them.

You seem to have found a balance between being an artist and being a businessperson. Can you tell me about finding that balance? Well, that's a work in progress, but I'm getting there. To pay the bills I do a lot of custom work. Basically, I'm creating other people's ideas. I make a point though, of only saying yes to things that I find interesting and think I will enjoy. Also, when I feel compelled to sew sparkly fabric on an old badminton racket or explore an abandoned building I do it. I can't make decent work for my clients if I'm not feeling happy and engaged, and I know what things I need to do in order to feel this way.

Who are your favorite artists? I'm pretty much a visual omnivore. I love the work that Freight and Volume shows. They do a really great job of showcasing interesting and clever work by today's artists. I love Judith Brown's jewelry. I just recently rediscovered that I love Fred Tomaselli's paintings. I look at a lot of old fussy English ceramics for inspiration, as well and cheap thrift store mugs. For favorite ceramic artists though, I will always be blown away by Beth Cavener Stichter's animal sculptures, as well as how my former teacher Susan Halls handles clay. And actually, I recently started a Pinterest board called "painting envy." Since it's fairly new there isn't a ton on there, but here it is.

What are your daily or weekly habits and practices? It depends on what's going on. In general, I like to swim, run, do yoga, visit with friends, and volunteer at the animal shelter once a week. I don't always get to all of these. Daily, I like to meditate, sleep, cook, mess around in my garden, and pet my rabbit. The work I do dictates its own schedule depending on size, drying time, firing, cleaning up, photographing, and shipping. It's so random that I can't let that dictate my life, so I work to fit it around the other things that I like to do. I also like to take classes, go to residencies, and apply to shows, so sometimes applications take over my life. This is not fun, but I love to travel and do work in other places, so it's worth it.

Any advice to aspiring artists? I would say if there's a skill you are interested in, take a class about it. This may require you to travel to a craft school such as Penland or Haystack. It may stretch your budget, but it is the absolute best way to learn. The more teachers you have and people you work alongside the better. If you think you know everything you need to know, go to a residency. Don't go with a project to create, go with an open mind, no plans, and have fun learning.

Sara Lynch is a multimedia artist living and working on the northern edge of New York State. She loves spending time with animals, and attempting to grow things in unusual containers. Visit her website for more information.(It's currently under construction, but still looks pretty lovely!)

All Creativelike: An Interview with Photographer Tracy Finn

Tracy Finn lives and works on Block Island, one of my favorite places on the planet. Through our connections there I've been able to watch Tracy's trajectory in the past year (via Facebook) from Snapshot Taker to Budding Photographer. More than just aesthetically pleasing, Tracy's work exudes both heart and soul. She's able to truly capture the essence of a subject, be it human, animal or landscape.

I asked Tracy if she minded me calling her a budding photographer and she replied, "I am totally a budding photographer. I love that description. I never plan on fully blooming either, I want to always be growing."

Tracy, how would you define creativity? I thought about this question for a long time, and I can honestly say I don't know. I think creativity is elusive.

How long have you been doing photography and how did you get started? I have been into photography for years, but just started taking it more seriously about a year ago.

Tell me about the technical end of things. What kind of camera, filters, etc. do you use? I shoot with a Canon, and I don't use any filters. I like the image to be as natural as it was in the moment it was shot, though I may enhance the colors slightly where I feel it's needed. I see so many people using straight up filters that are really intense, and I never want to go there.

You live and shoot on Block Island. Having lived there, I know how special a place it is. How much does that geography affect your work? I feel incredibly fortunate to live and shoot here.  As you know, there is no light like island light. It changes from season to season, not for better or worse, just different. The landscape provides color, textures, and emotions that I feel work perfectly with my style of photography.

When do you feel most open to your creativity, at your creative peak? When I am in nature, hands down. The freedom the outdoors gives me to be completely aware of the flow between me and my subjects is hard to describe.

What is it about photography that draws you to it? Photography has always felt natural to me. Having my camera in my hands allows me to capture not just an image, but the emotion I felt the moment it was taken.

What sets an okay photo apart from an amazing photo, and can you identify it when you snap the pic or does that get revealed later when you're looking through the images? When I feel completely connected to my subject, I know it's "the shot." It all happens in that moment.

You recently had your first exhibition. What was that like for you? It was like taking off all of my clothes and standing in the middle of town to be judged! Haha. It ended up being amazing though.

Seeing people moved emotionally by my work made it all worth the anxiety.  It was a huge growing experience for me as an artist.

Favorite artist? Diane Arbus is a big influence for me.  She found beauty in what other people saw as flaws in her subjects. Diane once said "I really believe there are things nobody would see if I didn't photograph them."

Do you have any daily or weekly habits and practices? Starting my day watching the sunrise and ending it with the sunset is an important practice of mine. It makes me feel more grounded and connected to the day. Also, my yoga practice is an important influence on my work that has expanded my awareness, opened my heart, and taught me to stay committed to the present moment.

Any advice or tips on how to take a great photo? Try to see something below the surface of your subject. We are all connected to nature and each other in some way, and once you feel it, it will come through in your photo.

What's next on the agenda for you? I want to keep shooting and learning as much as I can. Having found something that allows me to express myself,  I'd love to keep my career moving forward. This is just the beginning.

Tracy Finn lives on a small island off the Rhode Island coast. Living there allows her "an intimate connection that comes through in the immediacy of her work." Her photography can be found on her website as well as on Facebook.

That One Time I Had a Nervous Breakdown

When I was 19 I had a nervous breakdown. Actually, they called it "nervous exhaustion." But that's just semantics. I was pulled from college a few weeks before Christmas break, sent to a psychologist and put on medication that helped me feel like I wasn't dying every 15 minutes. It took a long time to get better. But I did. It was mostly a lot of "one step forward, two steps back." But a few times I moved ahead with giant leaps. Twice it was after reading a book (Franny & Zooey, then One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest), and once after I watched a movie (Harold & Maude). These three things pulled me up from the dark depths and gave me real hope, the kind of hope you need when you honestly believe you are losing your mind and might not make it. That's right, I'm actually saying my life was saved (in part) by art.

I'm telling you this because what you are doing is important. Your work has the potential to change lives in a real and tangible way.

Some of you might be thinking, "She's certainly not talking about the comic strip I'm writing with all the fart jokes." Yes, I am. That too. There's a reason the phrase "laughter is the best medicine" exists. Dr. Bernie Siegel has dedicated his life to studying the effects of laughter on his patients. It turns out that laughter does indeed heal people. A good friend of mine who was severely depressed for a good portion of his life told me two things stopped him from killing himself: the thought of leaving his parents behind and stand-up comedy.

So when you create your work today, do it for your future audience, the ones you'll make cry, or think, or laugh. Create with gusto. With purpose. Know that art transforms not just the lives of those who make it, but those who experience it as well.

And for the record, these days I prefer to call it a "nervous breakthrough" because semantics, it turns out, is important.

All Creativelike: An Interview with Haunt the House

My friend and neighbor Will Schaff - a brilliant and prolific artist who once called me "a pretty neat lady" #claimtofame! - likes to have house concerts in his art studio. A few months back he sent word of a show featuring a local musician he felt was particularly talented, a guy going by the mysterious name Haunt the House. Will was right. Haunt the House (a.k.a. Will Houlihan) is particularly talented. In fact, I'm convinced he'll be known far and wide in the not-so-distant future.

His music makes you feel like you've been to church, like your soul has expanded beyond its usual limitations.

Listen to Haunt the House's insanely beautiful music on Bandcamp, while you take in his truly poetic and insightful words below.

How would you define "creativity"? That's a tough one. Creativity, I think, in my most humble opinion, is whatever inspiration is out there in the ether that some fortunate and unsuspecting members of this humanity have discovered they can attract and funnel for a limited amount of blissfully controlled time to overcome a quandary or befuddling puzzle. To write a song, or paint a picture, or write a poem, or build a sculpture, or devise a law, or fix an automobile, or figure out how to best change the diaper on their newborn without getting re-christened.

When do you feel most open to your creativity, or at your creative peak? Ironically, when I'm nowhere near a pen or a guitar. I'm driving, or working, or in the middle of an interesting debate. It rarely ever happens that I'm struck while working. I work because it strikes and I keep myself open as much as I can. It's a brain exercise for me. A lot of my creativity lately has been outside myself, based around other people's stories. I haven't exhausted my own yet, but I'm enjoying exploring others' experiences and concocting stories around them. In short, I try to keep my brain actively imagining in an otherwise dull 24 hours. The only downside to that is the plague of my absentmindedness. I still haven't mastered multitasking. I don't think we are meant to. At least not me.

Where does inspiration come from? My short answer might be, "I don't know." But then I reckon if I think hard enough it would be an answer more like, "Life." As silly and as general as that may sound, I believe it. It is simple. We are all given this gift. All my songs stem from this beautiful and tragically short, brutal span of time. More specifically, inspiration, for me, is the fallout of just a small swarm of minutes in which souls and bodies interact with each other. It's the lingering effect of a happening, emotionally, visually, audibly, poetically, phonetically, politically, what have you. It's there as a residue for us to collect and create with. A good friend of mine told me of an event that he experienced surrounding a hot summer night, camping, forests, swimming and naked people emerging from a moonlit wood. He wrote a song, and drew a picture, but his retelling of it stuck with me. The last time I saw him I asked him for permission to also write a song based on the image he created for me. Inspiration is contagious and powerful, like a scepter or a baton in a relay race.

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Tell me about writing your lyrics vs. developing melodies? Melody, for me, is wrought from emotion. If I don't feel a harmony, (pun intended) between the rise and fall of a melody, I'll move on. If it doesn't move me to some imagery, to some memory or feeling of a sort, it is not worth saying. Maybe I'll set it aside for later, but not likely. If it's dead, I leave it. Lyrics come after melody. Most of the time, there can be exceptions, of course, when that ethereal inspiration we spoke of is too strong to follow forms and guides. Melody gives me guidelines that I desperately need. I feel it helps me hone my writing skills. I love free form poetry, but that doesn't often fit with the simplicity of my songs. I love simplicity, so within that structure I try to fit a living thing. My hope is that it works. That's all I really want.

You've written about tough things that have happened in your life. What is the relationship between music and those life events? I don't want to sound redundant, however all the songs I've written, without exception, even the material that I consciously step outside myself to write, is tethered to my own experiences in one way or another. I can't ever really escape it. If I ever write an untethered song, and I mean completely untethered, it just doesn't set well with me. To me, an untethered song is an imposter. It's a failure, or a falling short of honesty. It is a flat-out lie. Semantics, we can discuss that later.

When do you know a song is finished? Good question. A large majority of my songs are unfinished, or at least they seem that way until at such a point they cease to be. Sometimes they are finished within minutes. Sometimes they get rewritten and rearranged until they birth at a performance. It could be the thirty-forth time I've played it, but it blossoms then. It's always changing. I think that's the beauty of music, it's ever-changing. It allows for a certain margin of error. It says ,"I'm poetry. It's ok. Let me go. I'll finish the rest. You raised me right, now trust your abilities as a parent."

Favorite artists or influences? Artists that don't give up. Bruce Springsteen, who still gives eight-hour performances. Tom Waits, whom I admire most and has been a consistent role model for me in terms of artistry. Jeremy Enigk, who infused such spirituality into his work. My own father, for whom the same tenacity applies. He has always been a constant bastion of the hard work ethic for me. It's stubbornness serving purpose. It's emotional resolve. My brother, for teaching me how to conquer. I wish he was still here to slap my shoulder every now and then.

Do you have any daily or weekly habits and practices? I am naturally scatterbrained as I've alluded to already, but I've been getting much better. It all comes down to discipline. I realized recently I have very little of it. I set aside time now to write, inspiration present or not. It helps me wrangle what might be floating around up there in that echoing canyon I like to refer to as my mind. I have days now that I've designated to write just lyrics or melodies. It has to be done that way for me, as I would just ignore the actual work until that inspiration happens upon me with a hammer.

What's the best advice you ever received about being an artist in this world? "An artist does." Work, work, work, and when you're done, work again. I want to die writing a song.

What are you working on now? Too much! I've taken on the daunting task of assembling a band and a choir, and writing a ridiculously involved concept album. I mostly write solo, so I'm in over my head, but I'm enjoying it immensely. It may be sculpted down into something a bit more manageable, but I hope not!

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Haunt the House is the stage name of songwriter Will Houlihan. He delivers poignant stories of spiritual lament and loss with conviction and sincerity. His beautiful music can be heard HERE. You can connect with him on Facebook too.

All Creativelike: An Interview with Bri Johnson

I am positively giddy to unveil the All Creativelike interview series today, especially because we're kicking off our inaugural post with Bri Johnson, a wonderful artist who uses words and text in delightful combination. Bri is a writer, scribbler, former teen librarian and cancer survivor with a unique perspective on life and art.

Bri, what does "being creative" mean to you? To me, it means being open and amused. I like myself that way, so creativity is linked to me being at my best. But what if someday I’m kidnapped and held against my will? I dread that possibility. In that situation I’d be at my worst—closed and anguished. And I would need to be creative in that state, in order to escape. That’s a paradox I like to avoid.

Where does your inspiration come from? Always from relationships. But it took me ages to figure that out. For a long time, I think I linked inspiration to problem solving, but for me that is a mistake. Difficulty and resolution don’t stimulate me at all. I like associations, of any kind, hostile or harmonious, between objects, people, images, sounds, etc. And how we respond to these also interests me.

What is it about the intersection, or confluence, of drawing and words that pulls you in? It just makes immediate sense. I like to think it has something to do with my early experiences with picture books. Who knows. It kills me now to see picture books underrated, not only by young readers determined to move on, but also by their parents, who believe their kids should read novels sooner than later.

I spent years hearing that as a young adult librarian. “My child reads at a high reading level.” I had kids as young as eight pining for young adult novels at the library. Few had read Edward Eager, or The Borrowers, or The Penderwicks, or anything by E. Nesbit. That never made sense to me.

There’s a wild buzz around graphic novels, too, and I dutifully fostered it as a young adult librarian. But my heart was always with the picture books tucked away in the children's room. Is anyone reading them past the age of five? My hope was renewed the day I found The Arrival by Shaun Tan. I hope everyone reads that book. No one knows where to shelve Tan’s books, but they’re universally loved.

When do you feel at your creative peak? When I’m open, and when I notice inspiration. Some people might link that to a certain time of day, but I don’t. It can happen any time.

What are you working on now? It’s an exciting year for me! This summer I’m writing and drawing indiscriminately, to gain creative traction before I go to Maine in the fall, where I’ll study documentary storytelling at the Salt Institute. I’m hoping the constant practice combined with new documentary skills will prepare me to spend the winter working on an illustrated memoir. To stay loose - a constant battle for me - I use an iPhone drawing app now instead of a camera. Every day I try to post a drawing, a poem, or a photo on Facebook, something fast and playful. And I’m about to launch a blog about meeting people, called Hello?

How does your work as a teacher fuel your own creativity? Kids are so compelling. They’re easily amused and they make surprising connections, but so often they don’t appreciate their own brains until they witness someone gaga for their work. I try to get out of their way, and, if necessary, I try to help them get out of their own way. That helps me. Blocking myself is my biggest hurdle as an artist. Time with kids is my reminder to remain free and to appreciate my own brain.

No, but seriously. Why are kids so darned creative? Lynda Barry might speak to this better than me, but I wonder if it’s their limited exposure to societal culture. We’re so shaped by culture. And American culture in particular features a dysfunctional relationship with creativity and freedom. But kids create so effortlessly, all they need is room. That’s what anyone needs, if you think about it. We all start with room, then everything shrinks. Our days give way to schedules, our schools support rubrics, minds close, our interactions become fractured. How can we be creative in spite of that?

Favorite artist or influence? I curbed my self-expression at a fairly young age, and I stopped reading for pleasure around 5th grade. I’m haunted by that huge span of lost time, all the books and ideas and creative growth that I missed. I vividly remember circling a large table in my school library, piled with new books. We were allowed to choose one to keep and I picked Harriet the Spy. But I didn’t open it for at least 15 years. I can’t believe I had in my hands a marvelous story about a young girl’s development as a writer—at the perfect time in my life—and I left it closed.

But certain authors from my early childhood continue to influence me: Shel Silverstein, Rosemary Wells, Richard Scarry, Dr. Seuss, and Charles Schulz the most. Later, I discovered other favorites: Bemelmans, Sendak, Steig, Toon Tellegen, Crocket Johnson, Ruth Krauss, Quentin Blake, James Stevenson. And I have a long list of new favorites now, including Lynda Barry, Maira Kalman, Shaun Tan, Wendy MacNaughton, Nick Wadley,  Franciszka Themerson, Saul Steinberg, Tove Jansson, and Charlotte Salomon. Salomon’s visual memoir, Life? or Theatre?, is remarkable.

You’re a cancer survivor. Did going through that crisis and subsequent healing journey affect your creativity or how you view the importance or non-importance of making things? I was at a crossroads when I found out I had cancer. I graduated from RISD years earlier with no job, no place to live, no voice, no direction (that’s a lot of NOs), and thousands of dollars in debt. I had to support myself, and fast, so that’s what I focused on.

By the time I was 30-something, I was more or less estranged from my creative self. I had no idea what inspired me. A breakthrough came when I bought a small digital camera and began taking daily pictures for the sole purpose of noticing what I notice. For three years, I paired image with text, whatever came to mind. It was the most rudimentary thing, but that’s how I learned about self-expression.

Near the end of that project, excited about my next creative step, I learned I had a sizable malignant tumor in my gut. I had talked so often about leaving my job (which I loved) to spend some lost time making things. The idea was even more appealing now that self-expression made sense to me. But the privilege felt squarely out of my league. Leaving to fight a life-threatening illness instead felt much more realistic.

Did it lead to my next creative breakthrough? Not directly. I spent many months sick and tired, watching TED talks on my couch. Then you and YES Gallery + Studio suddenly came along, and you encouraged me to make things for your Itty Bitty show. So I made some tiny things. And it felt good, like something I should build on.

Almost five years have passed since the Itty Bitty exhibit, and I might now be entering the luckiest time of my life. I have no evidence of disease, and I am suddenly no longer reporting to work as a librarian. My time is my own for a while. I can't wait to see where it leads.

You're always tapped into the most amazing books. Can you recommend your favorite books on writing, art making, and/or creativity to the All Creativelike readers? Yes! This looks like a mishmash to me, but all of these helped me, often more than once:

Louise Fitzhugh: Harriet the Spy Wassily Kandinsky: Concerning the Spiritual in Art Stephen Nachmanovitch: Free Play: Improvisation in Life and Art Doris Lessing: Prisons we Choose to Live Inside Eudora Welty: One Writer’s Beginnings Tove Jansson: Moominpappa’s Memoirs Nicholson Baker: The Anthologist Maria Kalman: The Principles of Uncertainty Phillip Lopate: Being with Children Anne Truitt: Daybook: The Journey of an Artist Stephen King: On Writing John Steinbeck: Working Days Elif Batuman: The Possessed Louise Bourgeois: Drawings & Observations Lynda Barry: What It Is Patti Smith: Just Kids The Paris Review Interviews

On the web: Maria Popova: Brain Pickings Garrison Keillor: The Writer’s Almanac Sari Botton: Conversations With Writers Braver Than Me

Bri Johnson hails from the Green Mountain State. She is the founder of Sheepish Duck Magazine, written by kids from the Ocean State. And she is heading next to the Pine Tree State, to learn documentary storytelling at the Salt Institute. Keep an eye out for her new blog coming soon to www.thisishello.com. She can be reached at brilarian@gmail.com.