The Process vs The Product
Give yourself permission to play today and simply let the creative energy flow through you.
I spent a few days this past weekend at my studio, experimenting with Gelli printing.
A Gelli plate, or gel plate, is a squishy pad that you spread ink over and then press paper onto. You can print on all sorts of things, like paper, bookmarks, even wooden picture frames or fabric, and embellish the process with things like stencils. It's a little quirky but once you get the hang of it, it's a pretty easy way to create really cool stuff. Last year, I had a blast making paper bookmarks and postcards (that I planned to sell, but instead gave away throughout the year).
I pulled the plates out again this weekend after seeing an artist on Instagram using leaves and flowers (instead of stencils) to make patterns in gel prints. I loved the effects they were getting, so I plucked some leaves from my garden, went to the studio, and started experimenting.
It was fun - look! I printed a leaf! - but I wanted to see what else I could do, so I started searching YouTube for tutorials.
Oh boy.
I fell right down a rabbit hole, watching hours of videos about how to use multiple layers of paint and magazine transfers and all sorts of gadgets to create this or that complicated printing effect. I started to doubt my ability to make something of value with my old supplies and wilted grape leaves. I priced new plates and brayers (the official term for the rollers I bought last year on the cheap) as I tried to determine what I needed to actually do this thing.
This thing I was already doing.
With a gel plate I already owned, paints I use every day, copier card stock from my office, and leaves from my garden.
Um. What more do I need?
Nothing.
I'm a process artist. My goal is to enjoy the journey and marvel at what happens when paint hits a blank canvas or when pen marks turn into words that become poems. I'm doing this because it's meditative and calming. If I create something people want to buy, lovely. If I like giving stuff away, also lovely. I count that as success.
But it's not the goal.
If my brain (or self confidence) gets sidetracked by what I think I'm not doing well enough, then I start downplaying my own creative expressions.
And then I'm in a bit of a muddle.
Aren't a lot of our creative journeys like that? We look at what others are doing and convince ourselves we can't write without the proper paper or pens or computers, or paint without the right brushes or canvas, or that we can't do it at all unless we're mimicking someone else.
This weekend, I turned off the tutorials and focused on what I had on hand, and only now do I realize how much that allowed me to be present not only in the art I was making, but also my own surroundings. I started examining the plants in my garden more closely. I've never noticed how textured spearmint leaves are, or how the leaves from my roses don't have quite enough detail to use for printing. But look at the ladybug eating aphids! My butterfly bush is finally in bloom! A blue jay left me a feather!
My lovelies, who cares whether you're doing it “right” or with the “right” equipment? Write on loose leaf notebook paper left over from your kid's school supplies. Color in coloring books. Splash children's watercolors on copy paper. Make a mess. Make mistakes. You'll figure out what works and doesn't work by trying all of it. If it goes belly up, then rip it up, unravel it, cut it up, turn it into something else, set fire to it (responsibly!).
This isn't about the end product.
It's about the process - the entire process. The playing, the researching, the exploring, the experimenting, the mistakes, and yes, even the crying.
Give yourself permission to play today - with words or paint or crayons or yarn or new recipes or sidewalk chalk. Celebrate taking time to be present and letting the creative energy flow through you.
Whatever you have on hand is what you need.
Whatever you do, however you do it, is good enough - including a less-than-perfect blog post written on a wonky Monday morning.
Happy creating,
Joanne