BE CREATIVE
/I CAN PLAY SO FAST AND LOOSE with facts and numbers; I could be a politician or tele-evangelist, but I’m neither. There’s an anecdote I’ve heard a few times, the actual numbers quoted are fluid but within my loose-fitting margin-of-error.
It goes like this: A teacher asks a kindergarten class, “How many of you are artists?” Roughly 100% raise their hand. Another teacher asks a seventh-grade class the same question, less than 10% raise a hand of affirmation. WHAT HAPPENS? WHAT ARE WE DOING TO KIDS?
“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up. ”
“The child is the first artist. Out of the material around him he creates a world of his own. The prototypes of the forms which he devises exist in life, but it is the thing which he himself makes that interests him, not its original in nature. His play is his expression. But as the child ages: Imagination surrenders to the intellect; emotion gives place to knowledge. Gradually the material world shuts in about us until it becomes for us a hard, inert thing, and no longer a living, changing presence, instinct with infinite possibilities of experience and feeling.” —1907, The Gate of Appreciation: Studies in the Relation of Art to Life by Carleton Noyes, Quote Page 29, Published by Houghton Mifflin, Boston, Massachusetts.
Arts District. Tulsa, Oklahoma
Here’s another illustration you may have heard: The young child of a college art professor asks his parent about her job as a teacher, “What do you do?” The parent, trying to couch the answer in kid-terms replies, “I teach people how to draw and paint,” to which the kid says, “Did they forget how?” Isn’t is cutely true that a young, unspoiled mind is creative, they know it and they assume everyone is—unless they’ve forgotten how.
I will go so far as to confess that I believe “creative” is a relative term but I also believe that the most variable (adjective) variable (noun) is courage. In other words, you have to be somewhat fearless to be creative, at least in spurts. That’s my experience anyway.
For several years, I served on the board of an arts organization based in New York City called International Arts Movement or IAM. As a part of my work with IAM, I also served as a “creative catalyst” for a version of the movement here in Oklahoma City. I cherish all of those experiences. During that time I met some powerfully creative people: fine artists, poets, musicians, actors, dancers, novelists, architects, anthropologists, comics, teachers, students, journalists, illustrators, writers, filmmakers, chefs, designers, photographers, songwriters and more.
I remember in my first meeting with the board. I was sitting next to the founder and renowned painter, Mako Fujimura. I tend to doodle in meetings, making little drawings that might resemble 60s psychedelic concert posters. This thought kept racing through my mind: “Don’t doodle! You’re sitting next to one of the finest artists in the world right now!”
Crazy thing though about hanging out with phenomenal artists; the really really good ones are rarely arrogant at all about their creativity. In fact, it was an environment that was much more encouraging than intimidating. They actually want to foster creativity and curiousity and dabbling—and maybe even doodling. During that time I made several trips a year to NYC for board meetings and conferences.
One of my favorite places to go in the city was a place called the Jazz Standard , a jazz club in a basement below a restaurant called BLUESMOKE, founded by legendary restaurant creative, Danny Meyer. One night, at the Jazz Standard the guest artist was a pianist named Helen Sung. She was amazing. Then, lo & behold, I got to the IAM conference the next day, and there is Helen Sung herself. We had a wonderful visit. She was delightful, interesting and interested; the ideal conversationalist.
Recently, My Amazing-Missus and I checked out a fairly new jazz club in Tulsa called “Duet”. I had read about the place and its programming director Jeff Sloan. While we were enjoying some fine and creative dishes before the show started, Jeff stopped by our table to visit with us. I told him the club reminded me of the Jazz Standard; he said that it was one of the models they looked to when creating Duet. I highly recommend you visit Duet soon.
So, is this a post about creativity, a post about jazz clubs, a post where I get to drop names and act like a big shot, a post where I reflect on how much I love being in the midst of creative endeavors, a post encouraging everyone to muster the courage to create, a post where I lay down a bunch of words so I can call myself a “writer”, or a post remembering what used to be and looking forward to what might be? YES! Yes, it is every one of those things.
Want to play along? Up for a challenge? Why not squeeze the creative fruit and see if the juices flow? Doodle, draw, write a simple poem, go to a museum or art exhibit, go for a walk and take pictures (you probably have a camera in your pocket right now built in to that phone/calculator/calendar/flashlight/etc. Or write something.
Here, let me throw out a challenge; a prompt, as an idea for writing something. Sometimes that’s all it takes to get started. Below, I will include the lyrics to The Beatles' “Penny Lane”. Read them through a few times, listen to the song a few times. Don't worry much about the meanings of the lyrics. This is just a prompt. Now grab a pen and paper and write about your "Penny Lane". Everyone has one. Remember it? Write about what is "in your ears and in your eyes" as you ponder the street(s) where you grew up.
I would love to see what you write. Please send your essay to me: hey.pops.hey@gmail.com.
Next Post: Pops' Penny Lane, a.k.a. Quincy Avenue.
PENNY LANE
Lennon and McCartney
In Penny Lane there is a barber showing photographs
Of every head he's had the pleasure to know
And all the people that come and go
Stop and say hello
On the corner is a banker with a motorcar
The little children laugh at him behind his back
And the banker never wears a mack In the pouring rain, very strange
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the blue suburban skies I sit, and meanwhile back
In Penny Lane there is a fireman with an hourglass
And in his pocket is a portrait of the queen He likes to keep his fire engine clean
It's a clean machine
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
A four of fish and finger pies In summer, meanwhile back
Behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout
The pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway
In Penny Lane the barber shaves another customer
We see the banker sitting waiting for a trim
And then the fireman rushes in From the pouring rain, very strange
Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the blue suburban skies I sit, and meanwhile back
Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the blue suburban skies
Penny Lane