Even flowers take time to wake up.
A musing on not fighting the morning.
I was texting with a friend about fighting to wake up in the mornings. She said “kind of incredible what I can get done when I don’t fight getting out of bed…”. I agree, and yes getting going is easier when I’m not fighting myself.
The sink in my bathroom sits in front of a window that overlooks a magnolia tree.
It is a delightful view to have while brushing your teeth. All February and March I have been fascinated by this tree’s readiness to create buds in the warm days between snow falls and freezing temperatures.
Again and again, little fuzzy capsules appeared on the ends of the branches.
Finally, in mid April, they began to open. In ones and twos soft pink petals broke out of their fuzzy capsules and began unfurling.
This morning, some of these flowers looked like sea anemones, sprawling petals splayed in every direction. (Not to be confused with the flower by the same name, which I learned about trying to spell anemone correctly.)
Others looked like the bell of a tuba if the edges curved inwards. They illustrated perfectly where the inspiration for a petal shaped / bell shaped / balloon shaped skirt came from. (I write more about clothing and style in it’s many forms here.)
I had spent much of the morning lounging and reading. Not fighting waking up and getting going, but rather reveling in not needing to. In other words, the perfect weekend morning.
By the time I got up and got going, those magnolia bells had opened and transformed into sea anemones too.
I guess even flowers take their time to wake up.
Photo by Elisa Amadori on Unsplash
When is a creative project done? And is that even the point?
If we can’t always get every project to a state of wholeness, what is the end?
When is a creative work finished? And is that different than done? And are those distinct from complete?
This question was sparked by that art is merely abandoned quote, often attributed to da Vinci.
“Art is never finished, only abandoned.” – Leonardo da Vinci (maybe)
Creative projects: finished vs done vs complete
When it comes to “done” or “finished”, I think those states are declared.
But I do think you can sense when a creative project is “complete.”
When there is nothing left to add, and nothing left to remove, the work has a wholeness about it.
And I don’t know how to describe the feeling any more accurately at the moment than: it’s kind of like when a lemon curd sets, or when an ice cube melts.
It’s not quite ready, not quite ready, not quite ready, not quite ready. And then it’s lemon curd.
It’s still ice, still ice, still ice, still ice. And then it’s not.
If every project had unlimited time and space it would be one thing. We may always be able to reach that point of wholeness.
But creating in the real world is messier.
Sometimes it’s a timeline or a deadline or impatience. Opening night doesn’t budge. The paper goes to print when it goes to print. Manuscripts are due when they are due.
Sometimes it’s a lack of skill. We don’t always have the technical skill set to complete the work we envision.
Sometimes, it’s something else.
In those moments we get as close as we can with the resources at hand. Even if the limiting resource is us.
We can’t always get every project to that state of wholeness. Sometimes we declare it close enough (or close enough for now) and move on to the next project.
Maybe we’ll decide to come back to this project in the future. Maybe we’ll come back to the concept. Or maybe it’ll be a stepping stone to something else.
I started this essay by asking myself to try and articulate my opinion on the distinction between “finished”, “done”, and “complete”.
I think I found my distinction between finished/done and complete. (One day I may decide to tease out the difference between finished and done).
But I don’t know that finished or done or complete is even a requirement unless you’re on a contract. Incomplete, unfinished, and close-enough-but-not-quite-done works can have value.
However, I do know that if you want someone to see a piece of work you need to let them see it, complete or not.
Photo by Kim Daniels on Unsplash
The power of having a container (for creative chaos and other things)
I have a tiny tray by my desk that I pile dirty dishes on.
The tray is small and green with a painted filigree pattern and matching handles from the Halloween section of a big box store one year.
The dishes are mostly mugs and tea strainers, a bowl of pistachio shells, an empty toast plate, sometimes a teapot.
As the day goes on, I add dishes to the tray.
When the tray is full, I bring the dishes to the kitchen.
(Though never on the tray, I just realized. Just a few handfuls at a time until the tray is cleared. The tray does not leave its spot by my desk. Possibly for fear of desk debris encroaching.)
There are a couple things I love about this dirty dishes set up:
- I no longer run out of mugs.
- It is adorably twee. When I have a tiny tray with a teapot and a mug and the remains of a plate of toast, I feel like I just had a tea party. Even though that was not the experience of consuming that food.
- It is the perfect use for this tray. Which I bought for something else that didn’t work out.
But perhaps most of all, I love how simple it is.
I talk a lot with clients about creating containers for creative chaos.
I’m not sure how creative a pile of dirty dishes is. But I know they are chaotic.
This tray creates a container with very clear boundaries. And when the container is full, this system has a very clear next step.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I just finished my pistachios and have a tray to empty.
Photo by Rodolfo Marques on Unsplash
