I know what you are thinking, “Well, that’s a stupid reason to stop painting.” What can I say? We start and stop doing all kinds of things for any number of stupid reasons. But that’s part of what it means to be human, and the sooner we recognize this, the better. In some cases, we can use this insight—knowledge of our own irrationality—to hack our lives and gain better control over the decisions we make.
The truth is that I really didn’t stop painting altogether. It was more of a pause after painting consistently for some time. Not only was I on a roll with my painting, but I was making progress with my fledgling videography. I had everything set up at my dining room table and was ready to go at any moment. I could sit down at the table, with all my supplies in front of me, and turn my camera on. Bam! Time to paint and record. I enjoyed making videos because it gave me an opportunity to reflect upon, and learn from, my own painting process. And it was rewarding to view (in a time lapse recording) a painting session that lasted several hours unfold in a matter of minutes. Finally, I could put it all to music. I was new and not very good at making art videos. But I didn’t care; I was working toward my own personal goals and found it more enjoyable than I thought it would be. It was fun to teach this decaying dog brain new tricks.
I don’t have a proper studio at home. (Do I have a proper anything at home?) When I paint at home, it’s always in my basement or at the dining room table. When I am painting large, I do so in the basement. But, alas, the basement is the basement. In the winter, it gets very cold, and in the summer, it can be hot. It’s also messy down there and my easel is surrounded by weights, workout equipment, cleaning supplies, and shoes. And let’s not forget that all kinds of scary and loathsome creatures are lurking down there, including silverfish, slugs, and spiders. Finally, it’s dark and has poor ventilation due to the glass block windows that were installed when I move in. While the glass block windows keep the home invaders away, it seems like a safety violation to be trapped down there with no way out. What if there were a fire? Or an Anthrax attack? And so, when I can, I prefer to paint upstairs at the dining room table. It’s on the first floor with lots of natural light. I’m right next to the kitchen should I need snack or tea. Finally, it’s temperature controlled and far prettier than the basement.
However, painting at the dining room table also has its drawbacks. For one thing, while it’s playing the role of “art studio,” it cannot serve its function as a “dining” table. And it’s here that we confront the dilemma that I want to discuss in the rest of this post. Anyone who makes art at a dining room or kitchen table will be familiar with this one: If you paint at a dining table, you can either (1) set everything up before painting only to put it away when you are done, or you can (2) leave it there so that it’s always ready to go. While both systems are imperfect, I will now explain why I have resigned myself to the latter, (2).
Let’s start with (2): leave everything there so that it’s ready to go whenever you want to paint. What’s the problem here? Well, you basically lose your table. If there is another table in the house, this might not be an issue. In my own case, I have a small kitchen table that I can use for daily, informal, family meals. However, it is small and not suitable for guests. Therefore, if I can only use the small table, I cannot entertain. I cannot even have my parents over for dinner, which I like to do quite often. Even modest gatherings become impossible. The second problem with (2) is that, with art supplies and video equipment scattered all over the dining room, my house looks like a total disaster. It adds a level of chaos to the living space.
However, (1) is even more problematic. First of all, it is so much work. This is especially true if you want to record your session, for this entails rounding up all your supplies and setting up all the recording equipment. If you are retired, a full-time artist, or a person of leisure, this might not be a huge inconvenience. However, if you work and/or have children, you may only have short windows of time for creative activity. As someone who works a lot, and has two children, this is the case with me. Having everything always set up in one space is critical for my creative process. If I am unable to do this, I will be significantly less likely to create, for I simply won’t have the time. However, if everything is all set up in one place, then you can create even when you do not have a large window of time. Indeed, if you’re painting, and your palette is already set up, you can walk by, sit down for 20 minutes, and make a few adjustments to a problem area that you suddenly notice. You obviously won’t be doing this if a brief painting session requires setting things up from scratch every single time.
This brings me to the pause that I experienced in my painting/art making. In May, I had to do my annual share of entertaining that would involve the use of my dining room table. This meant that I would have to clear out and put away everything in my makeshift studio: lighting, phone stand, paints, pencils, etc. After doing this, my house really did look great! It was orderly and as close as it gets to spotless for a few days; it made me feel clear-minded and calm. But, as a result, I lost a lot of my painting momentum. I wasn’t creating as much. As I write this, I still haven’t fully reassembled my painting and recording setup. Admittedly, this is also due to the fact that I was finishing a book that needed to be completed by the end of the summer and started piano lessons. Nevertheless, having everything disassembled in my creative space, i.e., the dining room, really interfered with creative output. With so many other things going on, I really needed painting to be easy for me.
In my own experience, developing a regular art-making routine requires access to a space that is all set up. If I have to set everything up, and put it all away, before and after every session, then I just won’t create very much. Sad but true. This is in part because I have a crazy, busy life and am overwhelmed with responsibilities. But I think that most people—at least most adults—have lives like this. Alas, this is one of three reasons that I included in my earlier post about why people become less creative with age. So, my advice to people whose situation resembles my own is to find a place where you can set up a permanent, or semipermanent, makeshift studio—a corner, a table, etc. Just leave everything out so that it’s easy to create whenever you have even a short window of time. If you are simply drawing with, say, a pencil, an easier solution might be to keep all your supplies in a storage container that you can take out and put away as needed. This wouldn’t be much of a deterrent to engaging in creative work.
Recently, in the fields of psychology and scientifically based self-help, there has been a great deal of interest in habit. James Clear, for example, published a hugely popular book, Atomic Habits, on this theme. In trying to achieve goals, or bring about changes in one’s life, he recommends that one try to implement small, unambitious, or “atomic” habits. This, I think is good advice. In my own case, when I had a space set up for painting, I was able to paint frequently. I then fell into a routine or habit of regular creativity. This kind of thing tends to gain traction and momentum as it goes. It gets easier. You don’t have to think about your new activity,; you just do it. We get locked into a habit and then inertia takes hold.
When I cleaned up my dining room table in May, and put everything away, it really slowed down my creative output. But the experience alerted me to a few important facts: (1) that developing good habits (exercising, writing, practicing the piano, etc.) is enormously helpful in achieving one’s goals, (2) that it is very easy not to do hard and inconvenient things, and (3) that arranging one’s life and space to make hard things easier works.
Life is full of ordinary struggles. They are real. Most of us do not have the time and resources necessary to make our goals easily achievable. And so, we must accept tradeoffs and compromises. In my own case, I live in a pigsty of a house that will probably always be messy and dirty so that I have time to create. In fact, given my own lifestyle, having a big, fancy studio somewhere outside the house would probably not even help much. I work and have children, so taking off to spend hours in such a space would not really be an option. Therefore, like the rest of us, I need to cut myself some slack and do the best that I can. For me, this involves making the most of the short windows of creative time that I do have. It could be 45 minutes after dinner, and hour before my kids wake up, etc.
To make this possible, I need to engage in a bit of what economists Richard Thaler and Cass Sunstein refer to as “choice architecture.” (See Nudge.). Thaler and Sunstein are largely interested in arrangements that make it easier for others to make good choices. For example, they advise companies to change the default rule that applies to enrollment in 401K (retirement) plans from an opt out to an opt in rule for the sake of their employees own financial best interests. The opt in rule would automatically enroll the employee in the plan, thereby committing them to make a certain monthly contribution. Typically, such plans will match a certain portion of an employee’s contribution; in such cases, it is generally in an employee’s long-term best interests to contribute to the plan at least as much as the company will match. Thus, if the company will match any contribution up to, say, 4%, then the employ should contribute at least 4% to plan. Now, if an an employee nevertheless prefers to opt out, which will generally be add odds with his or her own best interests, he or she can still do so. But since the default rule has changed, and opting out requires a bit of work, it becomes the harder option. As result, opt in (or automatic enrollment) plans result in greater employee retirement savings than do opt out plans (which require that employees sign up to make a monthly contribution). Employees benefit from compound interest, or what Albert Einstein purportedly referred to as “the eighth wonder of the world.” This, again, demonstrates the power of inertia; it takes a great deal of effort for anything, or anyone, to make us swerve from our paths.
One of the takeaways here is that, by manipulating ourselves in various ways, we can make it easier to do hard things. In the case of creative production, we can organize our spaces so that it is easier to draw or paint. Importantly, we can, and often do, exercise this kind of control over other aspects of our lives as well. It is notoriously hard to eat healthily and resist tempting snacks (e.g., potato chips) and desserts (e.g., ice cream). Aware of our own weakness, we might make healthy eating easier, and take control our space, by not bringing such temptations into the house in the first place, or, as we sometimes did in my childhood home, lock them up in a safe. Similarly, knowing that it is hard to exercise in the morning before work, especially if it requires the unbearably onerous task of getting changed, we might fall asleep in our workout clothing so that we are less likely to back out when we wake up.
Doing the things that we love—the things that bring meaning to our lives—often becomes more challenging when we age. In my own case, my living circumstances, and the structure of my busy life, make it hard to create. But I want to create. It is hard but rewarding. And, importantly, I care more about making art than I do about having a clean and orderly house. In fact, like many people, I care more about most things than I do about having a clean and orderly house. Alas, life is depressingly short. (Sorry, Seneca, we will have to agree to disagree here.) We often become increasingly aware of this as we age. Life is fleeting. There are so many things to do and explore—so many versions of ourselves to become— before our time is up. Having a messy dining room table, and often living in a state of chaos, is far from ideal. But it is one of the ways in which I make it easier for myself to do something that I find hard but rewarding: making consistent creative production part of my everyday life.
What strategies do you employ to make it easier for you to be creative?