Stuck in a rut? Try a little creativity tourism
Trying out other art forms—and not taking yourself too seriously—could help you get out of a creative block.
Creativity’s biggest benefit is also its trickiest disadvantage. Most writers, artists, chefs, programmers, and everyone in between would probably agree that building something of your own from scratch is one of life’s greatest joys and sources of satisfaction. But all of that responsibility—creating something entirely new, without anyone to tell you where your plot should lead or what type of fat could round out your dish—can also be so daunting that it leads to creative block.
One of my new favorite ways to deal with writer’s block is through something I’ve dubbed “creativity tourism.” It involves taking a short break from my own discipline (writing) to “visit” others, whether by doing or hands-off learning. The “tourism” part of the name is important because it emphasizes a lack of seriousness or permanence: writing is my true home, but I’m going to pop on over to watercolor or baking or collage, because it will be fun and my travels might teach me something.
I can’t emphasize this enough: the point of creativity tourism is to be playful. It’s a short vacation away from something we typically approach with a bit more meaning, consistency, and organization. By trying something new—or revisiting a discipline we’ve tried before and at least somewhat enjoyed—we’re more likely to give ourselves a pass if we kind of suck at that thing.
In fact, sucking is the point. Too many of us find ourselves consumed by what a particular piece could be—or, even more daunting, what we ourselves could become—that we stagger under the pressure of making the work “great.” While there’s nothing wrong with wanting to do an idea justice, being good at art isn’t the point; for many of us, self-expression, community, exploration, and catharsis are.
By visiting a discipline we know we’re not very practiced in, we’re forced to approach our creative selves with grace. We pick up a stick of charcoal with curiosity, a lump of polymer clay with humor. We admit that we don’t know everything, and that gives us the pass we feel we need to put play first. We’re not going for The Creation of Adam here; we’re just seeing what we can do.
When possible, I like to make creativity tourism a hands-on act. A couple weeks ago, I FaceTimed my best friend for a virtual collage date. We scoured our magazines (mine Bon Appetit, Nautilus, and Birds & Blooms, hers People, OK, and Star) for images and phrases that meant something different put together than they did apart. The process helped me think outside the box and learn to repurpose things I thought I wouldn’t need. The other day, I snagged a block of air-dry terra cotta clay from the craft store. I’m guessing it will teach me something about patience and going with the flow, but who knows?
Don’t want to spend a bunch of money on new materials? Already have so many craft supplies that bringing more into the home makes you feel like you need to explain yourself to your boyfriend? No problem—you can do a little hands-off creativity tourism! Go to a museum (on one of their free admission days, if they have one—most museums do) and see if anything about the paintings and sculptures there inspire you. Watch YouTube videos in which mixologists or potters or jewelry makers explain their process. Chat with a creative friend whose discipline is entirely different from yours. How do they prepare for a new project? Where do they commonly get stuck? What helps them get unstuck?
When you return home to your usual discipline, you might find that you see the creative process with new eyes. Maybe block printing taught you to roll with your mistakes and turn them into something unexpected. Maybe tie-dye taught you to spot patterns you wouldn’t have otherwise recognized. Maybe floral arrangement required you to work within strict spatial or seasonal boundaries. Best of all, maybe a short vacation someplace else helped you take yourself a little less seriously.
What’s been inspiring me lately:
✰ A Creature Wanting Form by Luke O’Neil. I’m so glad I looked past the somewhat misleading (but gorgeous) cover and found the incredibly poignant “fictions” within. Many of O’Neil’s stories and prose poems made me wonder if he’d somehow spent a day in my head; plus, his writing style cracks me up.
✰ Cloudy days. I’m a sun-loving girl through and through, but because Phoenix averages 300 sunny days a year, cloudy (or rainy!) days are a novelty. I can’t help but crave a cliche-but-cozy day of reading and baking whenever those heavy monsoon clouds darken the sky.
✰ Prickly pear! I spent Monday afternoon helping one of my friends harvest and process her cactus’s abundant fruit. The depth of color within these spiny little guys inspired me to make as much use of the fruit as I could; while my friend and I made prickly pear syrup (for lemonade, margaritas, tea, etc) together, I’m also attempting to plant the seeds and make natural watercolor paints with the peels. Freddy, my friend’s tortoise, also gets to munch on the pulp!
I love love love this. I think it’s so important to be playful and allow room for humor in creative pursuits. There’s such a capitalist premise that if you try something, you need to be so good at it that you can make money from it. I think fighting the perfectionism urge and going back to fun and play is so liberating!
I love this! There's such a pure joy in doing something just for its own sake, without pressure. During the pandemic I dabbled in candle making and started painting with acrylics and watercolor. I'm not good at it, but I still have a lot of fun and hang up my paintings around the house, just because they make me smile.